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The remains of her old sleeping shirt had fallen to her elbows, the scraps at her back damp with cooling sweat. If it wasn’t so old, she might have grumbled about it.
Gwen didn’t know when it had happened, but the light from her bathroom had come back on. She could see Ambrosius more clearly, could see the horns on his head slowly recede. It looked painful, as evidenced by the blood and gore still on her hands. Ambrosius let out a relieved sigh once they were gone. He zipped up his pants before pressing into the mattress as if to sit up.
“You need sleep. It’ll be light soon,” he murmured.
Panic pressed a blunt knife to her heart. Gwen grabbed onto his shirt, yanking firmly and drawing him back down. She fell on top of him just as quickly, free from the ruined sleeping shirt. Tucking her body as close to his as she could, Gwen shut her eyes tightly.
“Gwen?”
“Stay,” she whispered against his jaw. “You don’t have to go every time. You canstay.”
For a brief moment, Gwen was certain he would push her away. But his hands found her bare skin, snaking around the base of her neck and back. She exhaled into his neck and tried to hide the way her body shuddered with how badly she needed him to stay. If she just buried herself against his frame, made his chest her new home, then he’d never have to leave.
“But not for long,” he replied. “Not forever. That’s up to you.”
“I … I’m still…”
“I know,” he sighed. “You’re still so …human.”
The words hurt. They always hurt when Ambrosius was the one saying them. Gwen should have been used to itby now. This was what they did. Hurt each other. It didn’t matter if Gwen refused or accepted the Soul Covenant, because Ambrosius would leave either way. Wouldn’t it be better to let him go completely than binding herself to him and suffering anyway?
Human.
Monster.
All of it swirled through her head, a mess of doll hair knotted together and impossible to sort through. It hurt—hurt in a way Gwen hadn’t felt in ages. The way family and friends had hurt her, until she had been forced to make the hard choice. Taking scissors to all the messy threads between them and severing the connection. She had done it before, Gwen could do it again, if only her heart wasn’t betraying her. Beating so rapidly that it made her dizzy. Like she couldn’t get enough air.
She was suffocating.
Gwen pulled away from him, gathering her pillow toward her chest. For a moment, she said nothing, but felt Ambrosius stare heavy on her. The awful feeling wasn’t going away, it would never go away as long as he was around.
“I guess that’s one of the ways I drive you mad, huh?” Gwen said, not meeting his eyes. “Being sohuman.”
“Gwen—”
“Not that I should be surprised, right? After all, you told me what this was early on,” Gwen went on, swallowing every unsaid word into her gut as deeply as she could. “This is just business, right?”
That was the purpose of a warlock, wasn’t it? To work for a demon, to do their bidding. Everything Gwen hadsworn she would never do, until Ambrosius had come along and messed with her mind. For all she knew, he could have been reading her thoughts the entire time. He was devious enough, petty enough, and if he noticed things about her as well as he said he did, Ambrosius would know exactly how to wield that against her.
The sun was starting to rise, the early morning light trickling through the balcony blinds. The promise of another hot summer day right around the corner. And here Gwen was, with no family, no friends, no job, and no promises.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked a moment later.
His voice was so quiet, but it was so loud in her ears. Despite her best efforts, the thought surfaced in her mind.
Because you’ll never love me, even if I tie myself to you. You’ll never love me the way I love you.
“You should go,” Gwen said instead. “You have antiques to sell.”
Ambrosius didn’t say anything for a long time. When she finally found the courage to look at him, he was gone.
Gwen buried her face into the pillow and cried. Her sobs grew harder at the sight of black ichor stains on the pillow.
33
Foolish
Gwen