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I don’t know what changed—whether it was me finally surrendering to the inevitable, or him realizing I wouldn’t break unless I chose to—but something is different now.

He listens when I speak.

Steorfan, for all his power and ancient, bone-deep hunger, no longer feels like a shadow pressing in on my every breath. He feels like a storm that waits at my edges, humming with restraint, his darkness folding around me only when I allow it.

Using his true name anchors him. Makes him less a monster and more... something real. Something I can touch. Something that touches back—softly.

And so far, he’s obeyed every boundary I’ve set.

That earns him something akin to trust.

His shadows move over my skin again, under my clothes—slow, reverent. They don’t grasp. They cradle. They pulse with a kind of quiet longing, like they know how close I am to unraveling and want to hold me there, just long enough to remember what it feels like to choose this.

Choose him.

They glide along the curve of my waist, over and under the fabric of my work clothes, the inside of my thighs, sparking fire low in my belly and shivers up my spine. My body responds before I can stop it—core tightening, breath stalling, pleasure pooling deep and low.

It’s too much.

Too gentle.

And it feels too fucking good.

“I said we play by my rules,” I murmur, trying to hold onto some piece of myself.

Steo stills. All of him—body, shadows, breath.

The dark around us hums, vibrating with something unspoken, something thick with restraint. His eyes flare, but his hands stay where they are.

He doesn’t challenge. Doesn’t push.

He waits. He really is achingly beautiful. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but this was not it.

My lips twitch.

Something shifted in the forest. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the realization that neither of us are what we first believed.

He isn’t just death.

And I’m not just prey.

His grip tightens slightly at my hips—not with possession, not with hunger, but with something quieter. Grounding. Steady.

And for once… I match it.

I don’t pull away.

I don’t run.

Steo must sense the conflict swirling just under my skin, because his voice breaks through the silence. Low. Knowing.

“Don’t you feel it?”

I do. I feel everything. The way this realm hums when I speak. How every inch of air feels like it’s watching. The way his shadows respond to me now without him calling them. The way I feel like I belong here, even when I shouldn’t.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

I look up at him.

He’s watching me.

Not like I’m a prize.

Not like I’m prey.

Like I’m a question he’s been aching to ask for centuries.

His hand drifts up, slow and deliberate, as if waiting for me to stop him. His shadows stay close, a gentle rhythm against my skin, matching the unsteady pace of my breath. I don’t stop him.

And suddenly, I’m aware of everything.

His hand. His body. His presence curling into the edges of mine.

And—

Something hard presses into my stomach.

I glance down—and freeze.

Oh.

Oh.

It’s not a bone. Not some ridged bit of armor.

It’s his cock.

And it’s... impressive. And yet again, unexpected.

A startled laugh bursts from me before I can stop it, the absurdity of it breaking through my tension. The laugh slips out so easily it’s almost involuntary, and as soon as it does, Steo shifts, his cock bobbing slightly between us.

I can’t hold myself back any longer. Curiosity wins out. I slide my hand down, feeling my way along every ridge of his body. My fingers ghost over the firm muscle, tracing the defined lines that disappear below his hips, accidentally brushing his length.

Steo’s whole body jerks, his shadows tightening around me—around my ass, my thighs, holding me in place, giving me nowhere to go. But I don’t stop.

I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock, experimentally sliding my hand upward, gauging his reaction. The sound he makes is primal—a guttural growl that sends a spike of lust shooting straight through me.

“Do that again, Snow Pea,” he rasps.

I do.

I squeeze slightly, dragging my hand down his length. My fingers barely meet around the thickest part of him, and that’s when I really take in the details. His cock isn’t smooth like a human’s. It isn’t even like Rad’s—thick, warm, muscle.

It’s bone.

Or rather, it’s made of interlocking vertebrae, like a spine, ridged and hard, each segment covered by a thin layer of the same translucent skin that covers the rest of him.

I blink.

Then, before I can stop myself?—

“So the Bone Daddy does get boners.”

The words slip out before I can think. I can’t help it. After years of fearing a shapeless monster made of darkness, this creature—this man —now standing before me paints a different picture. The shadow monster now seems like a distant memory, something I’d made up and imagined. These two are so vastly opposite that I can’t reconcile them as the same.

Steo stills.

Then, he growls. Loudly. Goosebumps spread on my arms at the sound, and I notice his eyes glow brighter.

So I don’t stop.

My amusement spreads into a smirk. The fear, the anger—gone, replaced with something warmer, more comfortable. I slide my hand up his length again, my core clenching at the feel of those ridges beneath my palm.

His hips jerk, his fingers digging into my waist. His shadows retaliate by undoing the knots of the bakery apron I’m still wearing and letting it drop to the floor.

“What did you call me?” His voice is dangerous.

I raise an eyebrow at his tone, but I answer anyway. “Bone Daddy.”

Another growl. His hips twitch again. His hands tighten, and the goosebumps on my arms turn into full-body shivers. I swear he shudders in response.

“Say it again.”

I blink. “You want me to call you?—”

“Say it.”

“Bone Daddy.” I punctuate the words with a slow, deliberate stroke of my hand and a grin.

Steo jerks violently, a sharp exhale ripping from him as he hauls me closer, his grip firm, possessive, needy. The orange glow of his eyes intensifies, his gaze boring into mine, the darkness around him coiling as if preparing to pounce. His shadows use the opportunity to slice through the back of my shirt, making goosebumps rise along my spine in the cold.

That’s when I realize—I have power here.

This fearsome, ancient, unshakable nightmare is at my mercy.

And that sends a thrill through me unlike anything else.

So I push further.

I lean in, voice sultry, teasing, thick with control.

“Come for me, Bone Daddy.”

I slide my other hand back up his chest, and grab him by the throat, testing how far he’ll let me push him, and increase the pace with the one wrapped around his cock, now curious as to whether shadow monsters have cum.

His growl spills into a full-body shudder, hips jerking helplessly into my hand as his shadows cinch tighter around me—frantic, feverish, already clawing at the seams of my pants like they can’t wait to tear them away.

But I don’t stop.

I stroke him faster, fingers squeezing, twisting, watching his restraint fray thread by thread. The sight of it—the sound of him unraveling—makes me dizzy with power. It’s a high—a rush. Like I’ve conquered something ancient and terrible and claimed it for myself.

And it feels too much like lust.

Like triumph dressed in heat and hunger, blurring the line between what I want and what I shouldn’t.

His shadows must feel it too because they fight back—removing the last of my clothes while I’m distracted, then curling around my breasts and gliding along my bare skin. I let them, no longer willing to deny the craving, no longer caring about what it could all mean.

It’s a battle of wills and lust, a war of dominance, and I refuse to lose. Neither of us backing down nor admitting defeat.

He lets out another growl that carries so much longing, so much hunger, that it becomes an almost physical feeling, spreading along his limbs, stretching along his shadows, and rippling along my skin in a vibration that sends all my nerve endings into overdrive.

My pussy flutters in response and my movements falter only for a second—but it’s enough.

His shadows instantly know what I want, before my mind even entertains the idea, and they push between my legs, stroking, pulsing, gentler than they did the last time, like they’re reading my reactions, and syncing with them. They find a rhythm that’s so perfect, hitting just the right places, that it pushes me dangerously close to the edge without having given them any direction at all. My body reacts violently, my thighs shaking, my breath hitching.

“Steo—” I gasp, legs unsteady, shaking with the effort to stay upright. The pleasure is too much, too fast, too deep. I don’t even know how to articulate what I need.

I barely have time to brace myself before his arms are around me, locking tight at my waist, holding me up effortlessly. My body melts into his, every inch of him solid and unyielding, his grip possessive but controlled.

“Too fast,” I pant. “Too much. Slow down, bone man. What’s the rush?”

His fingers flex against my hips, nails just barely pricking my skin, a silent warning. But he stills. Holds. Waits.

His next breath is slow, deliberate. But his eyes? They’re wild with hunger.

“You taste exquisite.” The words are a growl, dark and rich, vibrating through my chest where we’re pressed together. He leans in, his nose dragging along the line of my throat, inhaling deeply. His eyes flutter shut, their glow vanishing, and for a heartbeat, the room darkens around us.

Then the sound comes.

A low, primal rumble, deep in his chest, resonating through the very air itself. It rolls outward, into his shadows, making them tremble, making me tremble.

And suddenly, I feel it—everywhere.

A vibration spreading through every tendril wrapped around me, through every slick inch filling me, pulsing against my clit, pressing against the tight ring of muscle that’s already struggling to take him.

It spreads through my body in a wave of heat, and I arch, gasping, my inner muscles clenching down hard.

Oh, fuck.

Steo shudders, his grip tightening. His chest vibrates with another growl, and his shadows flex in response, a perfect, synchronized storm of sensation. I cry out, my body bowing back, my head tilting toward the ceiling?—

And something changes.

Above us, the glowing veins of light flicker, growing brighter, stronger—reacting.

I should be asking questions. I should be wondering why. But Steo moves before I can think.

His mouth is on me—lips, tongue, teeth—dragging over the swell of my breast. He hesitates, just for a second. Like he’s unsure. Like he’s never done this before.

Then his tongue flicks out, slow, tentative, testing.

A soft gasp slips past my lips.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His shadows tighten as his mouth closes over my nipple, hot and wet, his tongue swirling before he bites down, sharp and claiming.

A shocked yelp escapes me, my fingers flying into his thick, surprisingly soft hair, twisting, tugging.

I grab his cock in retaliation, squeezing hard.

Steo snarls. His hips jerk, his fingertips digging into my flesh.

“Yessss,” he exhales, voice rough, wrecked. “You are divine. Absolute perfection.”

I stroke him again, slower this time, twisting my wrist on the upward slide, feeling the hard ridges, the unearthly texture of him beneath my palm.

His shadows pulse inside me, mirroring my movements, curling deeper, stretching, teasing.

A battle of control.

I squeeze again, sliding my hand down his length.

He retaliates—one tendril tightening around my throat, another slithering between my thighs, pulsing with precision, matching the rhythm of my strokes.

My body is burning, needing more. More friction. More contact. More of him. I’m done denying the truth that I will surely analyze later if I survive this. For the first time I feel in control, holding my own fate by the cock, literally, my body thrumming with a new energy that makes every single one of my nerve endings pulse. With death’s shadows following my lead, I feel alive.

“Bone me, Bone Daddy.”

Steo freezes.

His orange eyes flash wide, locking onto mine in pure, unfiltered shock.

“…Did you just?—”

“Yup.” I pause for a beat. Then I grin. “And I meant it.”

I squeeze him again, slow and deliberate, and his shadows nearly implode around me. “I want to feel you inside me. Every. Single. Ridge. While your shadows stroke every other part of me.”

Another growl—this one so deep I feel it more than I hear it.

And then?—

He moves.

His shadows lift me off the ground.

A sharp squeal escapes as I lose my footing, but he doesn’t let me fall. His hands clamp around my hips, positioning me exactly where he wants me, his shadows wrapping around my thighs and ass, creating a perfect seat.

I instinctively grab onto his shoulders, my nails biting into the too-thin skin.

Then he lowers me.

Slowly.

Agonizingly slowly.

I slide down the thick length of him, my body stretching around every inch, every textured ridge, every dip and angle.

I feel everything.

I gasp, my forehead dropping to his shoulder as my breath shudders out of me. Fuck.

His cock is nothing like I’ve ever felt before.

Hard. Unforgiving. Designed to ruin.

I am quite literally being impaled by death himself. And it feels so good.

A rumble rolls through his chest, vibrating against my breasts.

“Fuck, Steo. That’s?—”

I don’t get to finish.

His shadows lift me and drag me down again.

Wetness pools between my thighs, an embarrassing amount, slick coating every inch of him.

A sharp snarl escapes Steo, his control fraying. His fingers dig into my waist, his hips flexing, forcing me to feel every part of him again.

The sound of it—the slick, wet slide—makes something snap in him.

His shadows shove deeper.

I scream, my back arching, every nerve in my body lighting up.

He growls, his voice nearly incoherent.

Shit, I feel so full.

“More,” I gasp.

“With pleasure, Snow Pea.” His voice is guttural.

His pace picks up, moving me faster, his shadows keeping perfect rhythm—inside me, around me, coiling tighter, owning me. Every thrust, every flick sends me spiraling higher, my pleasure mounting impossibly fast.

“Exquisite,” he groans, his voice raw. “Delectable. Mine.”

His mouth finds my skin, biting, sucking, marking, his words spilling out between gasps.

I can’t take it.

It’s too much.

His shadows curl around my throat, teasing, sliding down to pinch my aching nipples.

I snap.

My climax hits like a shockwave, my entire body seizing as pleasure detonates through me, shattering every thought. A second scream rips from my throat, my vision blurring into starbursts, my limbs trembling.

But he’s not done.

His thrusts grow wild, shadows clenching around me, his body going tight.

He’s right there.

I moan, desperate, reckless. “Yesss, come for me, Bone Daddy.”

His entire body jerks.

His shadows explode.

The pleasure that rips through him sends a wave of heat flooding inside me, his hands locking me down, his growl breaking off into a sharp exhale.

And then?—

The Evergloom reacts.

His shadows surge outward—then suddenly collapse, bursting into a rain of dust, like they simply couldn’t hold their form anymore. Fine particles drift through the air, landing on my skin, covering my hair, dusting both of us head to toe.

Steo stiffens.

His arms lock around me, supporting my weight where the shadows were before. My legs remain wrapped around him, his cock still buried inside me.

We both stay still, panting, bodies wrecked. Well, I’m wrecked, I have no idea what Steo is feeling.

My mind is still catching up, still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion, but Steo?—

Steo is staring at the dust coating his arms. And I realize what has him so shocked. His shadows—his dark, abyssal, death-born shadows did not turn to black ash.

No.

The dust covering everything is bright pink.

We stare at each other, wide-eyed.

“What the f?—”

“What in the fiery pits of hel?—”

We both exclaim at the same time?—

Just as the glowing veins of the ceiling flare bright pink.

Of course they do.