Page 106 of Devil Inside

“You’re expecting both of us to ride... together? On the same bike?”

“Why not? My life is in your hands.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why are you so afraid?”

Because this city nearly killed me.My recklessness, my carelessness, it almost killed me. What am I now? I’ve barely healed, and Lilith wants me to risk it all.

But I can’t say the words. I’ve got nothing.

“I trust you, Jordan...”

There’s that pressure. That brick on my ribs. Its weight bears down on my chest, growing heavier by the breath, until it becomes a cinder block. Two cinder blocks. Three.

“Don’t,” I say, stepping back. “You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.” She steps closer, takes my hand. “I have faith in you.”

Faith. In me? When has a devil ever felt that before?

I can’t breathe. The cinder block against my chest is pressing down so hard, it squeezes my lungs.

Lilith must sense something is wrong, because she places her hand—her host’s hand, the woman from the movie theater, a woman I’ve never met, a stranger, an absolute fucking stranger, a Betty Boop redux in a slinky sequined outfit, the curls of her hair clinging to her temples, a painted-on beauty mark for added effect, an unfamiliar body, out of time—against my chest, where the pressure is at its apex. Her palm settles against my shirt, and even though there’s a thin layer of cotton between her skin and mine, I feel her.

“Breathe,” she says. “Breathe.”

Something in the way she keeps her hand there, touchingme, I feel the weight lessen. The brick diminishes. Lifting, almost, until I can inhale and exhale again.

“That’s it,” she says. “Breathe.”

The cinder block disintegrates. Nothing but skin now. Nothing but air.

“Take me,” she says.

I climb on. Grip the handlebars. Squeeze, then release. There’s something about mounting a bike that gets my heartbeat pummeling. I’m not ready for this. I need off.

“Sorry, I—I don’t think I can.”

“You can.”

Lilith won’t let me go. She hasn’t released me. We’re in constant physical contact. Her touch is enough. Something about her skin. Her presence. It supports me. Strengthens.

“Take me home,” she says. “That’s all I want. Will you take me?”

Everything in my body screams to walk away from this. All of this.

Instead, I say, “Okay, but we’re taking it slow.”

“As slow as you want.”

She climbs onto the back of the bike behind me, taking the seat. There’s enough room for me to stand on the pedals when the time comes, keeping upright and leaning on the handlebars. For now, my feet are planted on the pavement, holding us both upright.

I have to recalibrate our weight. My strength. Can I really do this? To her?

“Hold on to me.”

She wraps her arms around my waist. Her face presses against my back. “Like this?”