Black bird a nevermore d.., p.78
Black Bird: A Nevermore Duet, page 78
He winced as he huffed a deep laugh, pressing his hand into his still tender belly. “Honestly, I would be more worried about the opposite. I think we could agree on that.”
“You’d be right.” There was a long stretch of silence between them, and Sarah broke it finally as she stepped towards him. “Want me to help you back into bed?”
Brent threw a palm up. “No, no … you’re good. I, um … think I need to sit just a little bit longer.” His eyes dipped momentarily to his magazine and Sarah snorted. He lifted his eyes back to hers. “He’s growing on me. The detective?”
“You’re full of shit.”
“No, I mean it. Not just because—because I just made out with your best friend.” He laughed softly, heat gracing his cheeks. “I think you’re with who you should be, Sarah. For what it’s worth, you never looked at me that way, and … you seem really happy. Even he seems like he’s changed. You kinda have that effect.”
Sarah smirked. “I do, don’t I?”
He kept his smile and lowered his head. “You do. I can tell he loves you. The real deal. I think I knew it a while back, actually. I can understand it … you know, as a man.”
“There must be some kind of bro-code I’m missing here. Athan said that exact same shit about you not long ago.”
“Did he?”
“Men are so strange. Utterly exhausting.” She slipped her hands into her jacket pockets, and he looked up at her red shirt, drawing his brows together. Sarah looked down, and then back to him. “What?”
“Santa’s dirty bitch?” Brent grinned, shaking his head.
She shrugged. “Did you expect anything else? I’m getting in touch with my Christmas spirit.” She turned and put a hand on the door handle. “You know … I wasn’t the one sitting in a hospital room with a boner, and sucking face with a redheaded cyclops while she sat on your jingle balls … you dirty bitch.” Her wink was scandalous, and he cowered in bashfulness. “Happy Christmas, Brent.”
He smiled genuinely and nodded. “Happy Christmas, Sarah.”
Ten minutes they’d been bickering back and forth about Wren’s hotheaded, mouthy mother. The fact that they’d caught her getting fresh with Stratford surprisingly hadn’t come up at all. It wasn’t really a surprise, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to find them lip-locked in a hospital room. When they got close to his old building, Wren finally realized where they were.
“Wait—I needed to go by my place. Grab some clothes.” She pressed a palm to the window.
Sarah looked over at him and Athan smiled at her, taking her hand. “Why don’t we go see Rhaena first? She’s been dying to put some responsibility back where it belongs regarding your cat.” Wren inhaled sharply and leaned her chin over the seat.
“Is he doing okay?”
“He’s obese, Wren. It’s kind of pathetic.” Athan’s smile stretched wide. Wren smacked him in the arm.
“The only one allowed to call him fat is me. Watch your fangs, Blood Daddy.”
“I missed you too.” Athan chuckled, pulling into the parking structure.
They piled out of the elevator, and Wren fidgeted with her tights as they stopped in front of his old apartment door. When she looked up, she lowered her brows, and her good eye caught Rhaena’s door instead. “Are we not going to Rhaena’s?”
“We gotta grab something first,” Sarah winked. Athan slipped the key into the door and opened it. It was pitch black inside, his old curtains serving immaculate purpose in the harsh noon sunlight. They stepped inside and closed the door before flipping on the lights. Denver meowed and darted towards Wren, bashing into her legs and twining his pudgy body around them. Her mouth dropped open, and she picked him up, wide-eyed as she looked around the apartment.
“Oh my—oh, my God.” Her fingers pressed against her lips as she inched into the living room, finding her entire apartment moved in. She shot her face back toward them. “What did you do?!”
“He … uh … sort of moved in with me.” Sarah smiled, shrugging her shoulders as Athan slid an arm around her. “We figured maybe you wouldn’t wanna go back to the old place. That you’d feel safer being next door to Rhaena. Plus … you know, the whole sleeping on her couch thing had to be getting old by now.”
“You didn’t move out because of me—”
“No.” Athan shook his head. “Sarah offered, I accepted. Couldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste. Rhaena wasn’t standing for anybody else moving in next door, other than you. Everything just seemed to make the most sense this way. It’s yours, if you want it.” He dangled the keys from his finger.
“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” Wren’s eyes teared up, and she stormed forward, hugging them both. “Thank you … holy shit, thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, bitch.” Sarah kissed her cheek. Athan smiled, awkwardly hugging her and handing her the keys. The door to the apartment opened with a soft knock, and Rhaena peeked in, Jenkins right behind her.
“Hey, twat-waffle …” Rhaena grinned, stepping inside. Wren didn’t appear to have many words left as she cried a little harder, and tackled Rhaena. Denver scurried back into the living room. “I brought you your car keys. It’s parked on the upper level. Didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Wren sniffled, wiping her nose. “Thank you all, so much.”
Athan felt the strangest warmth standing here with all of them, and it threatened to chip away at his brooding facade. He shifted uncomfortably and smirked at Wren.
“Alright. I’m outta here. This shit is way too sappy for me.” He started to turn, and every single one of them—including Jenkins, made an over exaggerated attempt to smother him in affection. His back pressed against the wall, and everywhere he looked, there were arms reaching around to hug him. “No!” he yelped, wrestling them off. “It’s too much! Bunch of fuckin’—get!”
CHAPTER 40
NEVERMORE
The chill of the cold in this apartment was finally easing. Even more so when Sarah picked up a black, hooded jacket with an extremely familiar smell—one she couldn’t place and pulled that over her head instead of a t-shirt. It was his, and she knew that. Something about wearing his clothes felt so much more intimate, and she savored every look he gave her whenever she borrowed his shit. She stepped out of her small bathroom in that jacket, and a pair of underwear, glancing at the window as snow started falling over Boston. Athan was shirtless and leaning against the mountain of pillows against her headboard with his knees raised, while Poe perched on his chest. He was nuzzling the breast of the bird with his knuckle and mimicking every sound Poe made. A very chatty—fucking adorable conversation.
“Snow on Christmas Eve,” Sarah breathed, padding towards the bed with a cup of coffee. Athan glanced up, distracted by what she was wearing. His eyes lingered, not on her bare legs … but on the jacket. “What’s the matter?”
“Where’d you find that?” he asked, sliding his finger under Poe’s feet and raising off the bed to sit him on his perch stand.
“It was in a basket by the washing machine. It smells like you. Sorry, if that’s weird.” He eased back down, joining her as she sat on her knees on the old blanket.
“I—” he started, seeming more and more uncomfortable. “I should have burned that.”
Sarah glanced down at the front of the hoodie, and then back at him, brows furrowed. “Why?” He audibly swallowed, growing a little more tense. “If you’re about to tell me it was an old lover’s or something, I—”
“It’s not … you know better than that.”
“Then what?” she asked, scooting closer. He slid a hand up her tattooed thigh.
“That’s … that’s the jacket I was wearing that night in the alley. The night that I—” he cut himself off and lowered his eyes to where his hand rested on her leg.
“Oh …” Sarah bit down on her lip. “That’s what the smell is.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, looking way too ashamed.
“Hey.” She took his hand and raised it to her mouth, kissing his fingertips. When he looked up at her, his eyes looked incredibly sad. “Do you really still believe that I’m upset about it? You know I’m not. Not anymore.”
“It’s not that. I’m just …”
“Athan …” Sarah crawled over him, sitting in his lap while he leaned back against the pillows. “You ready for your Christmas present?” A smile crept across his mouth, and he looked at her with that molten stare. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that … you pervert.”
“Aww …” he stuck his lip out.
“It’s my forgiveness,” Sarah breathed, leaning forward and taking the side of his face while she pressed her head against his. “I’ve had my time to be upset about what you kept from me. I’ve had my tantrum, and I’ve had my time to figure out what I really want out of my life.” Athan curled his fingers into her hair and swallowed. “It doesn’t really even need to be said, but … I want you. I want this,” she said as she gestured around the apartment. “I want a future where we’re not running from anything. Where you can have this freedom to experience us.”
“I’ve never deserved you.”
“Yes, you have. You do.” Her voice dropped into a whisper over his mouth. “That night in the alley isn’t a stain on what we’ve got, Athan. It was the moment you woke up from this nightmare. It was the moment I woke up from mine, and any time you think about it from here on out … I want you to remember it as that perfect, complicated thing that brought us together. Nothing else.”
“You’re incredible, Sarah St. James.”
“I hope so … cause you’re fucking stuck with me now.” He smiled against her mouth and kissed her, deep and longing—like the one they had in his apartment the night she read his journal. It escalated quickly, and she was irritated when he pulled away, making sure that he knew it when she glared at him in frustration. “The return policy is solid, asshole. All sales are final.”
Athan snorted and nipped her jawline. “Oh, I won’t be returning anything. You’re stuck with me, too. I’ve got you a little something as well.”
Sarah leaned back while he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the figurine he’d bought at Wren’s tattoo shop. “You’re a re-gifter? Athan that’s just shameful.” He chuckled and handed it to her.
“I was gonna wait until tomorrow morning, but this feels like a moment … so.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “It’s just as lovely as the last time you gave it to me.”
“Flip it over.” She did, and at the base of the skull was a round disc that covered a compartment he’d carved out of the bottom. She glanced up through lowered brows. “Open it.” When she turned the small disc, it popped open, and a glass vial fell out of the figure and into her hand. There was a small, rolled piece of aged-looking paper inside. “What you have in your hand is as rare as you are. Be extra careful with it.”
“I’m intrigued.” Sarah smiled, screwing the lid off of the glass tube. The roll of paper … there was something hard hidden in it. Her heart started pounding and she looked at him. His breathing had quickened. She slowly unrolled the little torn strip and a ring with a stunning blood ruby, haloed by tiny black diamonds dropped from it. Athan caught it in his hand. “Oh, my God …”
“Read it,” he whispered, swallowing.
She flattened the paper in her palm, trying earnestly not to cry. There was a small smudge of really old ink, and a scribble of a dip pen that formed the word ‘Nevermore’ in handwriting that looked very—very old. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked back up at him. “Is this …?”
“A piece of Edgar Allan Poe’s handwritten first draft of The Raven. I thought we could add it to the shelf.” He nodded towards his collection of old books, and journals that they’d moved into the safest corner of the apartment. Sarah swallowed back the knot in her throat, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about the pounding of flesh in her ribcage. “This though …” He held up the ring and raised his back off the pillows. “This I’d rather put somewhere else.” Sarah held the small piece of parchment in her right hand while he lifted her left, sliding the ring onto her finger.
“Athan …” She could hardly breathe.
“I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing what love feels like, Sarah. I told you I’m no good at it. But there have been some changes … I’ve lived a really … really … long time. I’ve known what pain feels like. Loneliness. I’ve felt how bitter and cold the dark can be, and I know you have too. I know you’ve suffered in unimaginable ways, and we were both looking for the light. We were both chasing the sun. In all my years, I’ve never met anybody like you, Sarah St. James. I finally caught up to the sun, and I wanna stay in it … forever. With you.”
Just a couple of months ago, she’d had a ring on this finger. One from someone else, that had been a lie the entire time. Whether she had known it then, or not … that was the moment that everything changed in her relationship with Brent. The moment he started becoming more distant … less like he actually loved her. But this … this was different—wasn’t it? She swallowed and blinked back warm tears. “Are you sure?” Her breathing was as rapid and shaky as his. “It’s only been—”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my immortal life.” He lowered her hand and tilted her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Can I ask you, now?”
All she could manage was a tearful nod.
“I love you,” he choked. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve given me life. You’ve given me purpose. You’ve given me a heart that beats … you gave me back the warmth I’ve been missing for over two hundred years, Sarah. You brought me out of Hell with your spine straight, and your pretty mouth just as smart as the brilliant mind that bleeds the most delicious insanity.” Sarah laughed through her tears, and he brushed his lips against hers. “Fuck this other life. I wanna spend the rest of my days buried in that insanity. Will you do me the honor of spending eternity at my side?”
“Yes … fuck yes …” Sarah dropped the paper onto the pillow beside them and took both sides of his face kissing him hard enough to steal his breath. His hands slid up beneath the hooded jacket that threatened to swallow the upper half of her body, and he lifted it off. It seemed only right, Sarah thought … to rectify this situation of that jacket still being a bother. She broke their kiss, and dipped her chin to his neck, relishing in the hiss that bit through his clenched teeth as she sank the sharp points of hers into his jugular. His hips bucked against hers and she drew his skin into her mouth as her tongue rolled, pulling the incredible taste of his blood down her throat. She drank, infuriatingly slow, pressing her body against him and moving her hips to match his pace as he gripped her hair.
“Christ,” Athan whispered, trembling with need. She released him, and he jerked her head back, grazing his fingertips over her bloody mouth and chin. The look in his eyes was pure fire, and ruin. “You are so fucking beautiful …”
“Don’t hold back. Take me. Lose control.” She could barely get the words out, every nerve responding to how he felt beneath her. Athan grazed her jaw with his teeth.
“There’s nobody here to save you if I do …” he whispered, breathing harder. Sarah smiled.
“There’s no salvation for bad girls, detective.”
It was his undoing. He leaned her back, holding her with an arm and kissing down the column of her neck. Then, lower … across her collarbone, and down her chest. Sarah reached into his hair with both hands as his fangs unexpectedly punctured the inner swell of her left breast. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was that pain she reveled in. The kind that sent an otherworldly surge of euphoria through every part of her body. Sarah felt the easy, numbing satisfaction of what he took from her body, and something between a deep moan and a growl left her throat. She felt the tear of the material around her hips right before the assault of his throbbing cock as he slammed it inside her, and she cried out, gripping his hair as he continued to drink from her. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d managed to come out of his pants.
There was no one in this world better suited for either of them. This chaos … this sick, deranged, love story of the two most damaged little fuckers this side of the dark had ever seen. When he raised his head and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, the unhinged smile he gave her set her off. Sarah leaned forward, riding him hard while she took that bloody mouth against hers.
Poe trilled from his perch stand, turning himself to face the freshly framed poster that had been returned to the wall above their bed. His head cocked to the side, the reflection of text gleaming in his sharp eyes.
“Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door …”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
EPILOGUE
Snow fell lightly over the Boston skyline, the quiet and stillness of it bringing in the magic that was Christmas. The glow of a cigarette bloomed across her chin beneath the hood of her dark jacket. She watched the exchange of the couple that lived above the art gallery on the corner of 4th and Butner, through the slight gap between their curtains. They were shameless. Beautiful, really. Beautiful, at least, in the way that their kind enjoyed each other.
She raised her phone to her ear as she smirked, the shadow of her hood hiding the upper half of her face.
“Yes?”
“I found them. They’re still in Boston.”
“I want proof.”
“I think you’ll have to wait a bit for that.”
“And why is that?”
She smiled, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Looks like a late dinner … among other things.”
“So, she’s been turned.”
“Certainly looks that way.”
“So be it. Leave the gift. Don’t lose her.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’ll be hard to find, John.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She ended the call and her heels clacked across the street as she flicked the cigarette into the snow. She checked the contents of the box—a lovely black bird taking its final rest in a bed of red tissue paper. Closing the lid, and adjusting the bow, she laid it down in front of the door to the apartment. Her keen hearing picked up the sounds of breathy moans and fevered curses from upstairs. She slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket and smiled as she started down the sidewalk.
“You’d be right.” There was a long stretch of silence between them, and Sarah broke it finally as she stepped towards him. “Want me to help you back into bed?”
Brent threw a palm up. “No, no … you’re good. I, um … think I need to sit just a little bit longer.” His eyes dipped momentarily to his magazine and Sarah snorted. He lifted his eyes back to hers. “He’s growing on me. The detective?”
“You’re full of shit.”
“No, I mean it. Not just because—because I just made out with your best friend.” He laughed softly, heat gracing his cheeks. “I think you’re with who you should be, Sarah. For what it’s worth, you never looked at me that way, and … you seem really happy. Even he seems like he’s changed. You kinda have that effect.”
Sarah smirked. “I do, don’t I?”
He kept his smile and lowered his head. “You do. I can tell he loves you. The real deal. I think I knew it a while back, actually. I can understand it … you know, as a man.”
“There must be some kind of bro-code I’m missing here. Athan said that exact same shit about you not long ago.”
“Did he?”
“Men are so strange. Utterly exhausting.” She slipped her hands into her jacket pockets, and he looked up at her red shirt, drawing his brows together. Sarah looked down, and then back to him. “What?”
“Santa’s dirty bitch?” Brent grinned, shaking his head.
She shrugged. “Did you expect anything else? I’m getting in touch with my Christmas spirit.” She turned and put a hand on the door handle. “You know … I wasn’t the one sitting in a hospital room with a boner, and sucking face with a redheaded cyclops while she sat on your jingle balls … you dirty bitch.” Her wink was scandalous, and he cowered in bashfulness. “Happy Christmas, Brent.”
He smiled genuinely and nodded. “Happy Christmas, Sarah.”
Ten minutes they’d been bickering back and forth about Wren’s hotheaded, mouthy mother. The fact that they’d caught her getting fresh with Stratford surprisingly hadn’t come up at all. It wasn’t really a surprise, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to find them lip-locked in a hospital room. When they got close to his old building, Wren finally realized where they were.
“Wait—I needed to go by my place. Grab some clothes.” She pressed a palm to the window.
Sarah looked over at him and Athan smiled at her, taking her hand. “Why don’t we go see Rhaena first? She’s been dying to put some responsibility back where it belongs regarding your cat.” Wren inhaled sharply and leaned her chin over the seat.
“Is he doing okay?”
“He’s obese, Wren. It’s kind of pathetic.” Athan’s smile stretched wide. Wren smacked him in the arm.
“The only one allowed to call him fat is me. Watch your fangs, Blood Daddy.”
“I missed you too.” Athan chuckled, pulling into the parking structure.
They piled out of the elevator, and Wren fidgeted with her tights as they stopped in front of his old apartment door. When she looked up, she lowered her brows, and her good eye caught Rhaena’s door instead. “Are we not going to Rhaena’s?”
“We gotta grab something first,” Sarah winked. Athan slipped the key into the door and opened it. It was pitch black inside, his old curtains serving immaculate purpose in the harsh noon sunlight. They stepped inside and closed the door before flipping on the lights. Denver meowed and darted towards Wren, bashing into her legs and twining his pudgy body around them. Her mouth dropped open, and she picked him up, wide-eyed as she looked around the apartment.
“Oh my—oh, my God.” Her fingers pressed against her lips as she inched into the living room, finding her entire apartment moved in. She shot her face back toward them. “What did you do?!”
“He … uh … sort of moved in with me.” Sarah smiled, shrugging her shoulders as Athan slid an arm around her. “We figured maybe you wouldn’t wanna go back to the old place. That you’d feel safer being next door to Rhaena. Plus … you know, the whole sleeping on her couch thing had to be getting old by now.”
“You didn’t move out because of me—”
“No.” Athan shook his head. “Sarah offered, I accepted. Couldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste. Rhaena wasn’t standing for anybody else moving in next door, other than you. Everything just seemed to make the most sense this way. It’s yours, if you want it.” He dangled the keys from his finger.
“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” Wren’s eyes teared up, and she stormed forward, hugging them both. “Thank you … holy shit, thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, bitch.” Sarah kissed her cheek. Athan smiled, awkwardly hugging her and handing her the keys. The door to the apartment opened with a soft knock, and Rhaena peeked in, Jenkins right behind her.
“Hey, twat-waffle …” Rhaena grinned, stepping inside. Wren didn’t appear to have many words left as she cried a little harder, and tackled Rhaena. Denver scurried back into the living room. “I brought you your car keys. It’s parked on the upper level. Didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Wren sniffled, wiping her nose. “Thank you all, so much.”
Athan felt the strangest warmth standing here with all of them, and it threatened to chip away at his brooding facade. He shifted uncomfortably and smirked at Wren.
“Alright. I’m outta here. This shit is way too sappy for me.” He started to turn, and every single one of them—including Jenkins, made an over exaggerated attempt to smother him in affection. His back pressed against the wall, and everywhere he looked, there were arms reaching around to hug him. “No!” he yelped, wrestling them off. “It’s too much! Bunch of fuckin’—get!”
CHAPTER 40
NEVERMORE
The chill of the cold in this apartment was finally easing. Even more so when Sarah picked up a black, hooded jacket with an extremely familiar smell—one she couldn’t place and pulled that over her head instead of a t-shirt. It was his, and she knew that. Something about wearing his clothes felt so much more intimate, and she savored every look he gave her whenever she borrowed his shit. She stepped out of her small bathroom in that jacket, and a pair of underwear, glancing at the window as snow started falling over Boston. Athan was shirtless and leaning against the mountain of pillows against her headboard with his knees raised, while Poe perched on his chest. He was nuzzling the breast of the bird with his knuckle and mimicking every sound Poe made. A very chatty—fucking adorable conversation.
“Snow on Christmas Eve,” Sarah breathed, padding towards the bed with a cup of coffee. Athan glanced up, distracted by what she was wearing. His eyes lingered, not on her bare legs … but on the jacket. “What’s the matter?”
“Where’d you find that?” he asked, sliding his finger under Poe’s feet and raising off the bed to sit him on his perch stand.
“It was in a basket by the washing machine. It smells like you. Sorry, if that’s weird.” He eased back down, joining her as she sat on her knees on the old blanket.
“I—” he started, seeming more and more uncomfortable. “I should have burned that.”
Sarah glanced down at the front of the hoodie, and then back at him, brows furrowed. “Why?” He audibly swallowed, growing a little more tense. “If you’re about to tell me it was an old lover’s or something, I—”
“It’s not … you know better than that.”
“Then what?” she asked, scooting closer. He slid a hand up her tattooed thigh.
“That’s … that’s the jacket I was wearing that night in the alley. The night that I—” he cut himself off and lowered his eyes to where his hand rested on her leg.
“Oh …” Sarah bit down on her lip. “That’s what the smell is.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, looking way too ashamed.
“Hey.” She took his hand and raised it to her mouth, kissing his fingertips. When he looked up at her, his eyes looked incredibly sad. “Do you really still believe that I’m upset about it? You know I’m not. Not anymore.”
“It’s not that. I’m just …”
“Athan …” Sarah crawled over him, sitting in his lap while he leaned back against the pillows. “You ready for your Christmas present?” A smile crept across his mouth, and he looked at her with that molten stare. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that … you pervert.”
“Aww …” he stuck his lip out.
“It’s my forgiveness,” Sarah breathed, leaning forward and taking the side of his face while she pressed her head against his. “I’ve had my time to be upset about what you kept from me. I’ve had my tantrum, and I’ve had my time to figure out what I really want out of my life.” Athan curled his fingers into her hair and swallowed. “It doesn’t really even need to be said, but … I want you. I want this,” she said as she gestured around the apartment. “I want a future where we’re not running from anything. Where you can have this freedom to experience us.”
“I’ve never deserved you.”
“Yes, you have. You do.” Her voice dropped into a whisper over his mouth. “That night in the alley isn’t a stain on what we’ve got, Athan. It was the moment you woke up from this nightmare. It was the moment I woke up from mine, and any time you think about it from here on out … I want you to remember it as that perfect, complicated thing that brought us together. Nothing else.”
“You’re incredible, Sarah St. James.”
“I hope so … cause you’re fucking stuck with me now.” He smiled against her mouth and kissed her, deep and longing—like the one they had in his apartment the night she read his journal. It escalated quickly, and she was irritated when he pulled away, making sure that he knew it when she glared at him in frustration. “The return policy is solid, asshole. All sales are final.”
Athan snorted and nipped her jawline. “Oh, I won’t be returning anything. You’re stuck with me, too. I’ve got you a little something as well.”
Sarah leaned back while he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the figurine he’d bought at Wren’s tattoo shop. “You’re a re-gifter? Athan that’s just shameful.” He chuckled and handed it to her.
“I was gonna wait until tomorrow morning, but this feels like a moment … so.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “It’s just as lovely as the last time you gave it to me.”
“Flip it over.” She did, and at the base of the skull was a round disc that covered a compartment he’d carved out of the bottom. She glanced up through lowered brows. “Open it.” When she turned the small disc, it popped open, and a glass vial fell out of the figure and into her hand. There was a small, rolled piece of aged-looking paper inside. “What you have in your hand is as rare as you are. Be extra careful with it.”
“I’m intrigued.” Sarah smiled, screwing the lid off of the glass tube. The roll of paper … there was something hard hidden in it. Her heart started pounding and she looked at him. His breathing had quickened. She slowly unrolled the little torn strip and a ring with a stunning blood ruby, haloed by tiny black diamonds dropped from it. Athan caught it in his hand. “Oh, my God …”
“Read it,” he whispered, swallowing.
She flattened the paper in her palm, trying earnestly not to cry. There was a small smudge of really old ink, and a scribble of a dip pen that formed the word ‘Nevermore’ in handwriting that looked very—very old. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked back up at him. “Is this …?”
“A piece of Edgar Allan Poe’s handwritten first draft of The Raven. I thought we could add it to the shelf.” He nodded towards his collection of old books, and journals that they’d moved into the safest corner of the apartment. Sarah swallowed back the knot in her throat, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about the pounding of flesh in her ribcage. “This though …” He held up the ring and raised his back off the pillows. “This I’d rather put somewhere else.” Sarah held the small piece of parchment in her right hand while he lifted her left, sliding the ring onto her finger.
“Athan …” She could hardly breathe.
“I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing what love feels like, Sarah. I told you I’m no good at it. But there have been some changes … I’ve lived a really … really … long time. I’ve known what pain feels like. Loneliness. I’ve felt how bitter and cold the dark can be, and I know you have too. I know you’ve suffered in unimaginable ways, and we were both looking for the light. We were both chasing the sun. In all my years, I’ve never met anybody like you, Sarah St. James. I finally caught up to the sun, and I wanna stay in it … forever. With you.”
Just a couple of months ago, she’d had a ring on this finger. One from someone else, that had been a lie the entire time. Whether she had known it then, or not … that was the moment that everything changed in her relationship with Brent. The moment he started becoming more distant … less like he actually loved her. But this … this was different—wasn’t it? She swallowed and blinked back warm tears. “Are you sure?” Her breathing was as rapid and shaky as his. “It’s only been—”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my immortal life.” He lowered her hand and tilted her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Can I ask you, now?”
All she could manage was a tearful nod.
“I love you,” he choked. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve given me life. You’ve given me purpose. You’ve given me a heart that beats … you gave me back the warmth I’ve been missing for over two hundred years, Sarah. You brought me out of Hell with your spine straight, and your pretty mouth just as smart as the brilliant mind that bleeds the most delicious insanity.” Sarah laughed through her tears, and he brushed his lips against hers. “Fuck this other life. I wanna spend the rest of my days buried in that insanity. Will you do me the honor of spending eternity at my side?”
“Yes … fuck yes …” Sarah dropped the paper onto the pillow beside them and took both sides of his face kissing him hard enough to steal his breath. His hands slid up beneath the hooded jacket that threatened to swallow the upper half of her body, and he lifted it off. It seemed only right, Sarah thought … to rectify this situation of that jacket still being a bother. She broke their kiss, and dipped her chin to his neck, relishing in the hiss that bit through his clenched teeth as she sank the sharp points of hers into his jugular. His hips bucked against hers and she drew his skin into her mouth as her tongue rolled, pulling the incredible taste of his blood down her throat. She drank, infuriatingly slow, pressing her body against him and moving her hips to match his pace as he gripped her hair.
“Christ,” Athan whispered, trembling with need. She released him, and he jerked her head back, grazing his fingertips over her bloody mouth and chin. The look in his eyes was pure fire, and ruin. “You are so fucking beautiful …”
“Don’t hold back. Take me. Lose control.” She could barely get the words out, every nerve responding to how he felt beneath her. Athan grazed her jaw with his teeth.
“There’s nobody here to save you if I do …” he whispered, breathing harder. Sarah smiled.
“There’s no salvation for bad girls, detective.”
It was his undoing. He leaned her back, holding her with an arm and kissing down the column of her neck. Then, lower … across her collarbone, and down her chest. Sarah reached into his hair with both hands as his fangs unexpectedly punctured the inner swell of her left breast. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was that pain she reveled in. The kind that sent an otherworldly surge of euphoria through every part of her body. Sarah felt the easy, numbing satisfaction of what he took from her body, and something between a deep moan and a growl left her throat. She felt the tear of the material around her hips right before the assault of his throbbing cock as he slammed it inside her, and she cried out, gripping his hair as he continued to drink from her. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d managed to come out of his pants.
There was no one in this world better suited for either of them. This chaos … this sick, deranged, love story of the two most damaged little fuckers this side of the dark had ever seen. When he raised his head and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, the unhinged smile he gave her set her off. Sarah leaned forward, riding him hard while she took that bloody mouth against hers.
Poe trilled from his perch stand, turning himself to face the freshly framed poster that had been returned to the wall above their bed. His head cocked to the side, the reflection of text gleaming in his sharp eyes.
“Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door …”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
EPILOGUE
Snow fell lightly over the Boston skyline, the quiet and stillness of it bringing in the magic that was Christmas. The glow of a cigarette bloomed across her chin beneath the hood of her dark jacket. She watched the exchange of the couple that lived above the art gallery on the corner of 4th and Butner, through the slight gap between their curtains. They were shameless. Beautiful, really. Beautiful, at least, in the way that their kind enjoyed each other.
She raised her phone to her ear as she smirked, the shadow of her hood hiding the upper half of her face.
“Yes?”
“I found them. They’re still in Boston.”
“I want proof.”
“I think you’ll have to wait a bit for that.”
“And why is that?”
She smiled, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Looks like a late dinner … among other things.”
“So, she’s been turned.”
“Certainly looks that way.”
“So be it. Leave the gift. Don’t lose her.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’ll be hard to find, John.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She ended the call and her heels clacked across the street as she flicked the cigarette into the snow. She checked the contents of the box—a lovely black bird taking its final rest in a bed of red tissue paper. Closing the lid, and adjusting the bow, she laid it down in front of the door to the apartment. Her keen hearing picked up the sounds of breathy moans and fevered curses from upstairs. She slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket and smiled as she started down the sidewalk.
