Page 67 of Devil Inside

“And what is it that you see?”

“An angel.”

Our grip loosens, just for a breath. The sharpest gasp. No one has ever been aware of us. No one has looked. Only flesh and bone. Only our bodies. Never the devil within.

It unmoors us.

Seeing us—seeingme—would be too much. Even for him. There’s no coming back from that, no returning to this. Where we are now. We like this. We want to keep it for as long as possible. We remain hidden, slithering in this skin. But Jordan insists onseeing me.

Can we give that over to him? Open ourselves up?

Let him in?

Not yet. Not now. We want this. Want him. We run our tongue along the lobe of his ear. There is the salt. The brine of his life. We want more. Crave more.

We lower ourselves to his neck. We find the jugular, the steady drumbeat of his pulse pounding now, deafening now, as we lick along with the rhythm.

We keep our tongue to his neck, patient, lapping at his heartbeat. Such a thin barrier between our mouth and all that blood. It could be ours. We could drink it. Bathe in it.

He doesn’t push us away. Doesn’t resist.

So we continue. Our tongue runs along his throat until we findhis jaw. He hasn’t shaved. The sandpaper rasp of his skin scrapes against the tip of our tongue. We enjoy it. We could rake our face over his until our own skin is rubbed raw, sandpapered to the bone.

Jordan keeps still, so still, his body barely moving. He can’t find our eyes now. We are too close, exploring the tender hemisphere of his face. He permits this expedition.

He breathes deep through his nose. His eyes are now locked on the wall at our back. Out the window. To the city. All of its lights.

Let him in...

We are at his mouth now. Our lips have found his. We suspend ourselves here, almost as if we were hovering in the air, as if we were no longer bound by gravity, our bodies rising, rising, lifting off this planet and its laws. We are boundless now, our bodies. Free.

We hold ourselves at his lips, mere inches away from his mouth. So still. Ready to capture his breath. That last gasp. We want it for ourselves.

“Are you afraid of what you see?” We ask this question again, so desperate it sounds like we’re begging, unable to restrain ourselves any longer.

We want his fear. Need it.Give it to us.

“No,” he replies. The word is so measured, but we can hear the faintest tremble at the back of his throat. A levee about to break. “Show me. I want to see everything.”

“Trust us, you wouldn’t like what you—”

Jordan moves. Pounces upon us. He presses his lips against ours. We are startled by this. We hadn’t sensed it. Hadn’t anticipated it. He takes us by such surprise with this kiss. It is such a fluid movement, his head, his neck, his chest, then the rest, all upon us, closing that infinitesimal gap in a matter of a blink. There’s no time to react. To breathe.

All this time, we believed we were in control. Easing into his fear. A spider toying with the fly. But he unleashes himself upon us. His muscles spring into action, a tightly coiled wire. All that sinew. There is such strength to him, even now.

Jordan pushes off from the wall. Our body now tilts back, upending itself, until we are sprawled across the mattress and Jordan is on top. His hands find ours, weaving his fingers between our own, pinning our arms in place.

His lips never leave ours. He continues to kiss us. Our mouth opens wider, as wide as these cheeks will allow. Then, just as his tongue plunges in, we—

Bite.

Jordan reels back just in time to hear our teeth snap. So close to his own.Almost.We find his eyes once more. We are panting, frenzied now. He studies us, out of breath.

We smile, our chest heaving. There is danger here, yes. In both of us.

“Who are you?” he asks. “Show me.”

“No.”