Page 35

34

Intimate

Ambrosius

H e was in the middle of a sale when he felt something pull taut.

Beneath his carefully crafted human features, the demon slowly tested his prison.

The cursed items—each one a chain made to keep him locked forever—were sorted over, and each one was accounted for.

Even the ones that were currently out of rotation had a place.

“I know I’m gonna get a ton of shit for this, but I just really adore this style of radio. It’s so vintage and—”

Good, still yapping, Ambrosius thought.

Now, where are you?

The sensation was maddening, not too different from the constant pain at his hip.

Ambrosius knew the weight of every chain, yet this one was infuriatingly difficult to track.

Had he somehow miscounted?

No, I’ve been here too long.

I know every single one of these filthy spirits.

What could—

“—do you take card?”

“Yes,” Ambrosius replied, a bit more curtly than he usually did.

The technology to run credit cards was still old-fashioned, a clunky device that was decades behind, but Ambrosius was forced to work.

The Antiquarium had a limited amount of technology at any given time.

The spirits tended to interact poorly with such devices, and it was incredibly rare for any of them to attach properly to one.

The particular radio device the unfortunate human soul carried a particularly nasty spirit, but Ambrosius didn’t care about that.

Something was wrong, and not knowing what irritated him.

“Than—”

“All sales are final,” Ambrosius interrupted.

“Have a good day.”

And with more force than he meant to, Ambrosius reached deeply for the chain that connected the radio to him and shoved the human out the door.

He heard the man fall as the bell chime slowly came to an end.

“Where are you?” Ambrosius hissed under his breath.

“ What are you?”

This was different, something new had taken root, but what?

Ambrosius found himself pacing, twirling his cane as he went.

Anything to get out the pent-up energy of not knowing what it was.

He supposed it was possible they had found a new item.

Crafty vermin, sneaking them into the Antiquarium when its Antiquarian had been unaware.

Yet, Ambrosius could not feel the weight of the new binding so much as he felt it pulling at his frame like—

A crack split through his mind.

“ Gwen .”

Ambrosius’ form swelled, his true body pressing against the chains angrily.

In the pit of darkness, his gruesome claws reached toward that fraying bit of yarn in desperation.

She was failing, she was falling, and the connection between them was unraveling.

If he couldn’t reach it, the Antiquarium would never let him go to her.

The demon strained, pushing the limits of his body until muscles tore.

When the tip of his claw finally wrapped around the end of that string, Ambrosius felt his body shift and dissolve into nothing.

When he manifested inside the apartment, it was to a sight that nearly tore Ambrosius’ human form apart.

His eyes fractured, splitting into several glowing cyan orbs that could barely be contained within their sockets.

Limbs stretched, growing jagged and thin as his spine lengthened until he nearly touched the ceiling.

Serrated teeth erupting from his gums as his bones cracked and popped.

Ambrosius tore the monster from Gwen’s prone form by the back of his skull, claws sinking deep.

He shoved him onto the floor, and once he recognized the twisted, vacant face, set his rage upon him.

The demon hooked a claw into the man’s open mouth and viciously sliced down to his navel.

The monster came apart, hot entrails hitting the floor.

Within the contents, Ambrosius could see half bitten flesh that had once belonged to Gwen.

It was easy to hate the creature that had tasted what Ambrosius could not.

Jealousy suffocated his insides as he thought of it.

If anyone was going to eat his precious warlock, it should have been him.

Not this thing that barely deserved to lick the floor she walked on.

If Ambrosius had time, he would draw it out more, but this reanimated creature had no sensation for pain.

And there were more pressing matters at hand.

Ambrosius shoved the creature back by the shoulder, brought his knee up, and slammed his foot down onto its skull.

The impact was so hard that the monster’s head cracked like a watermelon, spraying blood and gray matter across the room.

Having thoroughly finished the job, Ambrosius wiped his foot on the man’s jeans and followed the trail of blood back to the bathroom.

When he entered the doorway, Ambrosius paused.

Gwen laid in a pool of her own blood, and for a moment, the demon was transfixed at her partially eaten form.

It was normal to be entranced by death, as it was what any demon would hope for.

The corruption, the fear, the madness.

All of it led to this point for humans …

and fuck , if Gwen didn’t make it so beautiful .

Gorgeous in life, gorgeous in death, it didn’t matter to Ambrosius because she was everything his terrible existence could have ever hoped for .

It was so easy to get lost in the vacant look in her eyes, to lift her still hand and feel pride at the flesh beneath her fingernails.

She had fought as best as her humanity had allowed her.

Ambrosius wouldn’t mourn her …

because he had no intention of letting her go.

With a flick of his wrist, water quickly began to fill the bathtub.

Ambrosius gathered Gwen’s broken body in his arms as his spectral hands pulled the curtain aside.

He stepped into the tub, shoes filling with water before he sat down.

Leaning back against the end of the tub, he maneuvered Gwen so her back pressed against his chest, submerging them both in water.

Ambrosius cradled her jaw with one hand, turning her face toward him and used his fingers to pry her mouth open.

The other hand moved toward her damaged body, hovering over the fatal injury.

Ambrosius brought Gwen’s face near, pressed his forehead and the bridge of his nose against hers.

Then he breathed .

Power—the same power that sustained his form—was expelled from his throat and entered Gwen’s mouth.

Ambrosius felt it linger on her tongue and breathed again.

This time, it went deeper, past the back of her mouth, down her throat.

Her soul reached out to him, welcoming his spirit in a crying embrace and—

Gwen gasped, a heavy breath that Ambrosius matched.

She blinked rapidly, lashes brushing his own face, but the demon kept breathing.

With every shuddering gasp for breath, he could feel his power work through her.

It reached the injury and reacted.

New tissue boiled into existence, expanding and melting into old flesh.

The pain was excruciating for her, yet Ambrosius held onto her with every shaking breath.

He didn’t stop until her abdomen was whole again.

“There you are, my gorgeous girl.”

“Ambrosius,” Gwen said, so weakly against his lips.

“I’m so—”

He kissed her .

He didn’t want to think of what she could have said then, because the words were too much for him to endure.

This woman—his warlock—had nearly left him for death.

Ambrosius had little care for the thing beyond the ether, the unknown entity that occupied the space spirits dwelled.

But the thought of Gwen being alone with it set his blood on fire.

Nothing and no one would have any part of her as long as his spirit existed.

Ambrosius held onto her until Gwen complained about pruning skin.

Reluctantly, he gathered her from the filthy water and peeled the layers of soaked clothes from her.

Unlike Gwen, when Ambrosius vacated the bathtub, he was completely dry.

As if he hadn’t submerged himself in water at all.

At one point, Ambrosius had to sit Gwen on the edge of the bathtub as her frame was quite weak.

He knelt before her, examined her abdomen, and pressed his fingers to make sure his essence had made her flesh strong.

Once satisfied, he pressed an open mouth kiss there.

It made her shiver with both fear and want, but there would be time for that later.

The demon wrapped a towel around Gwen, hoisted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

If she noticed her neighbor—or what was left of him, soaking into the floor—Gwen didn’t say anything.

He wouldn’t shield her from the horror, either, as they would need to find out exactly how the reanimated corpse came back to life.

There was a small probability that Gwen’s power—his power—had awakened him, but Ambrosius wouldn’t bet on it.

There were many avenues to reanimate the dead, nearly as many as there were monsters.

Ambrosius noted that the sheets and pillows were stained black—her tears, of all things, most likely.

With a wave of his hand, the sheets were cleaned.

Easy enough to do, given the ichor was an extension of his own being.

Ambrosius tucked Gwen in—a sentimental thing the demon realized that he had never done before now.

He wasn’t sure what to do with the thought, intending to vanish the body when Gwen’s hand weakly grasped the sleeve of his jacket.

“Stay,” she rasped. “Stay and talk to me.”

The fear and lingering death she emanated would be appetizing if she wasn’t so weak.

And despite his crueler nature, Ambrosius found himself sliding his shoes off and lying next to her.

He propped his head up on one hand and used the other to gather her close.

Gwen was shivering—a side effect of dying, no doubt, but she had somehow found the strength to cling to the front of his dress shirt.

“What do you want me to talk about? What do you need?” he asked.

“Anything. Everything,” she shuddered.

Ambrosius ran the tip of his tongue along his canine in thought.

“I … have a tail,” he confessed.

Gwen blinked watery eyes up at him.

Her color wasn’t exactly right, still too pale and not for display.

Ambrosius knew it would take her some time to recover, at least a night’s rest. Still, he took mercy on her confused state .

“I don’t remember when I got it. I think it came after the horns? I just remember feeling something brush my body that was foreign to me. And when I looked and realized it was attached to my spine, needless to say, I wasn’t excited. It was just one more thing humans had started associating with devils. Another thing to tie me to their concepts, their fears … it also has a mind of its own, which can be infuriating at times.”

Ambrosius was quite aware of Gwen’s hand slowly creeping around his torso, but he didn’t have the heart to bark at her.

In fact, he found it quite amusing when her fingers slipped beneath the belt line of his slacks, dipping low.

“It’s not there, my bittersweet,” he chided.

“And even if it were, I’d bite your hand before allowing you to touch it.”

The demon wasn’t kidding.

What he failed to tell Gwen was how sensitive the appendage was.

Possibly more so than his horns were, especially at the tip, where the shark tooth-like end was.

Ambrosius couldn’t predict how he would react, feeling her hands around it.

“Killjoy,” Gwen grumbled, pulling her hand back to her chest.

Ambrosius laughed, “I’m just being honest and doing what I can to keep you safe.”

Gwen’s eyes unfocused, her fingers running along the lapel of his jacket.

Ambrosius could search her surface thoughts, but he found no urgency to do so.

Instead, he ran his own fingers through the pink strands that curled against her cheek.

They were paler than normal, a warning that she needed to feed.

He would need to bring a human to her, or at the very least, take her somewhere humans were .

“Thank you.”

The demon peered down at her, blinking in confusion.

“For what?”

Gwen bit her lip before pulling on his jacket and drawing him close.

Ambrosius was surprised when her lips connected with his cheek.

“You know why,” she whispered.

“You’re way too clever not to know.”

An odd feeling tickled at Ambrosius’ being, though he didn’t recognize it.

The more he thought about it, the more troubled he was that he couldn’t place it.

“You’re … welcome.”

“Ro?”

“Yes?”

“I … I’m choosing.”

Ambrosius felt his chest swell, felt the chains tighten around him.

“Choosing what, exactly, my bittersweet?”

“You,” Gwen said, voice shaky.

“I’m choosing you. I want to finish the doll. I want to do the Soul Covenant. I want you .”

Pleasure, unlike anything physical, swept through Ambrosius.

It was euphoric and untamed as it coursed through his very being.

All the possibilities lay ahead of him, revealing a path that led to one thing.

The demon didn’t believe in hope, and he didn’t need it when he had Gwen in his arms. Not when he had her consent to his will .

Finally.

Ambrosius’ stare grew heavy lidded as he tilted Gwen’s chin up.

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip .

“Then have me, my bittersweet.”

When their lips met again, Ambrosius indulged her until he felt her lungs shake.

He laughed when she chased him, desperate to continue their kisses.

“You’re still weak, my gorgeous girl. You need to recover, and we have time before the Antiquarium disappears,” he explained.

“But not enough time,” Gwen retorted.

“You’ll be gone soon. I need more time, more memories with you.”

Greedy, needy thing …

so delicious.

Ambrosius eyed the sheets, recalling their last encounter.

Perhaps it was the rush of successfully swaying Gwen to him, or the enticing possibility of freedom, but for whatever reason, it left Ambrosius in a generous mood.

“Let’s go out.”

“I … where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere,” he said, running a hand along her waist and hip.

“Like … like a date?”

The demon found the question delightfully humorous.

A demon taking their warlock out on a date?

If demons had any societal norms the way vampires or werewolves did, he would surely be mocked by other demon-kind.

But like all things, Ambrosius did whatever he pleased, driven by impulsiveness and chaos as always.

And what he wanted more than anything was to be in the material plane with her.

“Yes, exactly like a date,” he agreed with a grin.

“Oh, Gwen, let me take you out. Let me see the world with you while I can. And when it’s over, we’ll come back here, and you’ll finish the doll. ”

Gwen smiled, a gummy thing that would have been unsettling for humans, but only made Ambrosius grin wildly in return.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I want to go on a date with you.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her.

“We can figure out if we’ll have ritualistic sex before or after. For now, rest, my bittersweet.”