Page 127 of The Vespertine Treaty
"Make me forget," she demanded. "Make me forget everything but this."
The command shattered me.
I reached up and slapped her clit. A sharp, stinging flick of my fingers.
She screamed.
Her inner thighs clamped around my head, crushing me. I kept eating. I kept sucking, merciless and cruel, driving her over the edge and into the abyss.
She shattered again, harder this time, her body convulsing, her eyes closing. She went limp in my hands, utterly spent.
I stayed there for a moment, breathing in the scent of her, my face wet with her pleasure.
I stood up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked at the filling tub, then at her—satieted, beautiful, mine.
"The bath can wait," I muttered.
I lifted her into my arms again, carrying her out of the steam and back into the bedroom. I laid her on the sheets, pulling the heavy furs over her.
I climbed in beside her, pulling her back against my chest, wrapping my arm around her waist.
She stirred, turning her head to look at me. Her eyes were hazy, sleepy, but filled with a terrifying, absolute softness.
She looked at me like I was no longer just darkness, but hers.
“I think I can really fix you and you could fall in love with me too…” she whispered almost to herself, the words slurred into the pillow.
I froze.
The Void laughed.
I kissed her forehead, my lips lingering on her skin.
"Sleep now, Ophelia," I commanded softly.
She drifted off, her breathing evening out, her hand still clutching my forearm.
I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence she had created inside me. It was terrifying. It was addictive.
I brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, leaning down to whisper the truth she would never hear.
“I long for you in a way no male should ever long for anything other than power,” I murmured to the shadows, the confession tearing out of my throat like jagged glass. “But you see, Ophelia, before you I am weak. For you have found your way into thedepth of my Void and pulled until the echo chamber turned into music.”
I traced the line of her jaw, my hand trembling.
“Now I haunt these halls and hear your melody like a siren’s call,” I whispered, closing my eyes against the sting of unspent tears. “Not fearing the crash, but longing for it.”
But the crash would kill us both. And I could not let her die.
As the haze of pleasure faded, the cold reality crept back in. I had claimed her. I had marked her with wax and blood and seed. I had tasted her soul.
And judging by the look in her eyes, I had already made her love me.
And that only meant it would hurt more when I destroyed her world tomorrow, but I could never allow myself to love her back.
CHAPTER 42
OPHELIA
