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Fascinating

Ambrosius

I t took Ambrosius a moment to come back to himself.

He hadn’t anticipated showing his more demonic form to Gwendolyn, but naturally, she had been completely unreasonable when he finally manifested in her home.

It had been slightly amusing at first, seeing how quickly she tried to escape him.

Like a brand new fawn stumbling from danger.

By the time she closed the second door, something else had taken over.

Something ancient, baleful, that Ambrosius hadn’t felt in quite some time.

Malevolent intentions to hunt, to chase, to torment had bubbled to the surface like lava.

And it had been so very long since he had properly haunted a human.

The temptation was strong, and she had been right here .

He had taken extreme pleasure in catching her off guard, and now her hand was ensnared with his .

“I haven’t,” Gwendolyn denied, hand trembling slightly within his.

“I wasn’t…”

Ambrosius knew she wouldn’t try to move away from him.

She knew his sharp clawed fingers would shred her hand like fresh slices of meat.

“Gwendolyn, my bittersweet, I love a liar as much as the next demon, but I would appreciate it if you leveled with me. Why did you run away?”

“It’s Gwen,” she said, before letting out a long sigh.

“Just Gwen.”

Ambrosius blinked.

“Gwen … Gwen, ” he cooed.

“Be good now, and tell me why you ran away.”

The curtain was still between them, obscuring her from him, but Ambrosius had other ways of seeing.

He could picture her face, the doubt and fear in her eyes.

The way she bit the plump flesh of her lip.

“I’ve seen this before in my dreams,” she confessed.

“I’ve seen you in them, and I wasn’t sure if this is real or not…”

A partial truth, but not the entire truth.

Ambrosius felt the corner of his mouth go up.

He found it funny how much like him she really was.

Ambrosius had every intention of treating Gwen like the brat she was, but that had changed when she ran from him.

Whatever lecture, whatever torment he had been contemplating was nothing compared to her confessing to him, as if he were some priest that would forgive her sins.

The thought amused him, and there was a strange pleasure to it.

Ambrosius could sense fear and guilt rolling around in her soul, weighing her down.

Yet another odd flavor to her intricate making .

“Do you often dream of me?” he asked.

“I…”

His hand tightened, and he could feel her skin ready to give beneath his fingers.

Ambrosius wanted her to say it.

He wanted to know if a part of him had slipped into her nightmares, if it had buried itself into her mind.

“Not on purpose,” Gwen relented.

“What are you going to do to my hand?”

Once again, her clever mind managed to avoid the question.

Gwen had been learning—another good trait to have in a warlock.

Their connection gave him more access to her than if she had simply been a human.

He doubted she was even aware that something had fundamentally changed within her.

“Whatever I please,” Ambrosius replied with terrible satisfaction.

He could feel his demonic nature coiling, rearing back with an open jaw as it readied a lethal strike.

She winced as one of his jagged fingers pressed a little too hard into her hand.

Yet, she still didn’t try to escape him.

He’d take a cautious and cunning warlock over a brave and foolish one.

“ But , I’d be willing to give it back to you,” Ambrosius giggled—a game, the familiar game rushing through his body, causing the ink to swirl along his unnatural skin.

Without meaning to, his voice grew more distorted.

“Promise me you won’t run away again, and I’ll let you take your hand back. Promise me, my bittersweet, and I’ll let you go.”

“I promise,” Gwendolyn said, all soft and docile.

Ambrosius could tell that she believed she wouldn’t run away.

A personal truth that he had to consider as he slowly cracked his neck.

Pushing the boundaries of his human form was always easier than shoving his demonic form back into it.

He gathered his long limbs and crooked spine.

Slowly, Ambrosius pulled them back towards the center, melding the monstrous pieces into a semblance of something more human, something that wouldn’t terrify.

All of him, except for the hand holding hers.

“Very well,” he said before burying his true voice as well.

Ambrosius withdrew his spindly fingers from Gwen.

As they separated, the tip of one of his jagged claws swept through the pooling blood between her fingers and disappeared behind the curtain.

Ambrosius watched as his hand reverted back to its human size, but paused at changing its appearance.

He stared at the dark red on the tip of his claw.

Impulsive by nature, he brought his finger to his mouth and licked the small offering.

It wasn’t entirely the same as when he first sampled her blood.

There was no doubt that she was different now, that she had changed.

Another boon for him, one that made the human organ in his chest beat wildly.

“Okay,” she murmured, then more steadily.

“Okay … I’m going to—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Ambrosius manifested behind her.

His arms snaked around her body.

His human hand gripped her shoulder while his more demonic hand clutched her abdomen.

Gwen gasped, her own hand clutching the arm across her chest while the other bit into his wrist. Ambrosius rested his head on her shoulder, eyeing her shocked expression with glee.

“What is it, Gwen?” he murmured in her ear.

“When did it happen? Tell me everything. ”

She squirmed in his arms, pressing her back against his chest in a weak attempt to dislodge him.

His warlock didn’t have the spirit to will herself to be physically stronger, it seemed.

“When did what happen, you unhinged dick?!” Gwen snarled, turning her head to glare at him.

“Don’t play coy, Gwen,” Ambrosius wiggled his monstrous fingers, tapping them down her ribs.

“Tell me what you’ve been eating!”

Gwen strained against his hold, pulling away from his fingers as they finally rested on her lower abdomen.

Ambrosius wanted to know—was aching to know what terrible thing sustained her.

What made her salivate, what made her stomach lurch in pain?

What fooled the organ inside of her into thinking she was eating?

There was a chance she had taken on more of his own traits.

The leaching of his power came with funny side effects.

How that power manifested depended entirely on the warlock.

When she had revealed her pink hair—her own unique aspect of him—Ambrosius had found it fitting.

Of course, such a creative soul would boast such a loud color.

Naturally, Gwen was just as independent and flamboyant as he was.

She just needed guidance, and she would be the most dreadful warlock the world would ever see!

“Eating?” Gwen yanked on his arm, but to no effect.

“ Wait! You are the reason why I’ve been sick! I fucking knew it, you piece of shit, you—”

“Oh, Gwen, save the theatrics!” Ambrosius scolded affectionately as his hand loosened on her shoulder and glided to the base of her jaw.

He tilted her head so they were eye to eye.

“What is it? Raw meat? Organs? Or is it less physical and more abstract? Are you more like me than I thought? Is it loneliness, or maybe despair? I can’t imagine you’ve eaten many souls, but—”

“Oh, my fucking god, will you shut up long enough so I can talk?” Gwen grumbled, fisting the hair on the back of his head with the hand that had once griped his arm.

Ambrosius allowed it simply because he enjoyed it.

His face must have shown it to some degree, because her expression grew more pissed.

“Stop it,” she ordered.

“I haven’t eaten anything like that. No raw meat and no—how the hell does someone eat despair?”

“Oh, it’s quite easy if you happen to be a demon that feeds on despair,” Ambrosius replied.

“Most demons eat the more awful things in life.”

Ambrosius had briefly known a demon who fed on humans’ fear of aging.

Guntur barely had to bait a human into it, unlike the demons who preyed on other vices.

He had simply instigated it by complimenting a younger woman's beauty or a younger man's vitality, and the humans would do the work for him.

Guntur had been fortunate to have spawned with such an appetite.

Others were not as lucky.

“Whatever,” Gwen grumbled.

“My point stands. I haven’t been eating anything like that. I’ve eaten more food than ever before, but it doesn’t seem to help.”

He pulled away from the hold she had on his hair, staring at her in confusion.

“Explain.”

An order, not a request. Ambrosius made that clear as his hand slid down her jaw to her soft throat.

Gwen didn’t look away, keeping her amber eyes locked with his.

“I’m hungry,” she admitted before letting out the softest of groans through gritted teeth.

“No matter what I eat, no matter how much I eat, I’m still so fucking hungry! ”

She sounded like she was in agony.

Ambrosius couldn’t remember how often warlocks needed to feed, but if it was anything like a human’s appetite, then no wonder Gwen had been so irritable.

Hunger was a universal suffering for all manners of evil.

Ambrosius was no different, consuming scraps as they clumsily explored his Antiquarium day after day.

Hunger with no relief was one of the worst things that could happen to a monster.

Ambrosius’ clawed hand tightened against her abdomen, noting the small swell of tears in the corner of her eyes.

So much needless suffering.

“Gwendolyn, my bittersweet,” Ambrosius sighed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know!” she cried.

“I didn’t know what was happening, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m mad at you!”

Ambrosius hushed her, lowering his hold on her neck, which allowed her to move.

Gwen turned to face him, hand raised to wipe the tears from her distraught face.

She swayed toward him, a conflicted moment of weakness as she obviously craved comfort.

But to accept comfort from him was to show weakness to the very entity that had trapped her within his web.

Good, he thought. Depend on me, only me, my bittersweet.

No one will understand your suffering as I do.

His hand still boasted long, sinister fingers that Ambrosius used to gather the moisture from her lashes.

As gentle as a monster like him could be.

A small comfort, but not enough to endear her to him.

Ambrosius didn’t want her to come to him too easily or under any false notion of affection.

The sooner she understood his nature, the easier their time together would be.

And if, for whatever reason, Gwen strayed from his plans, well, Ambrosius was more than happy to scare her again.

“I’m hungry,” she whimpered.

“I’m hungry and nothing tastes good.”

“Oh, my bittersweet … nothing is satisfying you because what you’re eating is vile,” Ambrosius admonished.

Gwen blinked, her head shook in confusion.

“Gwen, human food will only get you so far,” Ambrosius explained, lifting his hand between them, eyeing the small pool of her tears that had gathered at the end of it.

“You need to feed on human life, my warlock.”

“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Ambrosius said before dipping his head low to lick her tear from his finger.

She had already been shaking, but Gwen somehow managed to raise her hand, as if she could stop the truth.

Denial was clear on her face.

Before she could voice it, Ambrosius pulled her nearer.

He cradled her distressed face in his hands before leaning down to kiss her wet cheek.

Gwen let out a small whimper as Ambrosius licked a path up toward her eye, smearing the tears away.

They were salty, filled with anguish, and delectable.

A light palette cleanser after tasting her newly changed blood.

It no longer held the same flavor as when she had been human, but it didn’t matter, because it was hers.

Her blood, her tears, her saliva—he would take all of it and form her in the image she was meant to be .

I might hate you still, but it doesn’t matter, Ambrosius thought as he consumed her horror.

You’re mine now.

When she had calmed enough to stop crying, Gwen grasped onto one of his spindly fingers.

There wasn’t any of the same lingering fear there had been when she had first seen it.

None of her lovely temper, either.

“How do I know which part to eat?”

“Tell me what you’ve noticed when you’ve been around humans. Anything unusual?”

Gwen bit her lip, brow furrowed in deep thought.

“Yeah … I noticed when I was around people, I feel sick. My coworker—she touched me, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I could smell wine coolers. And if I’m not feeling sick, I’ve been feeling … weird? Like my neighbor—I caught him stealing earlier this week, and he glared at me. I’ve caught him stealing before without him noticing. I honestly didn’t care before, but I remember feeling so annoyed.”

“Your appetite may lie in the unseen,” Ambrosius concluded.

“Unseen?”

“Things that humans have that aren’t the physical,” he explained.

“My palette isn’t just blood and tears. Most demons are partial to the human spirit. But we won’t know for certain until we get you alone with a human. Or until you finish the doll, whichever you prefer.”

Gwen’s eyes widened, and he noted the way her gaze darted toward the spider colony.

Ambrosius could sense her soul waver—stress.

She was afraid of something, but—

Naughty one .

His clawed hand swept past her cheek and tangled in her hair.

He cradled the back of her head and pulled the pale pink strands.

Not viciously, but enough that Gwen had no choice but to tilt her head back.

“Gwen,” Ambrosius purred as he caught her avoidant eye.

“What did you do with the doll?”

“I gave it away,” she mumbled. Ambrosius blinked.