Page 34 of Wraith

And for the first time since waking up, I felt something new. Something sharp and unfamiliar.

Hope.

Because as much as Lilith thought she’d won, I could feel the bond now. Between her, me, and Ciaran. It wasn’t as strong as it had been in life, but it was there, pulsing faintly like an ember waiting to ignite.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, meeting Lilith’s gaze head-on.

Her smirk faltered for the briefest moment before the laughter returned, louder and colder than ever. But I didn’t flinch. Not this time.

Twenty-Four

The funeral was heldon a dreary, overcast afternoon, as though the world itself had dimmed to mourn. The chapel was suffused with a dull gray light, the stained-glass windows filtering muted hues of blue and red onto the polished wooden pews. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of lilies and the murmured whispers of those who had gathered to pay their respects—or, in some cases, to gawk at the spectacle of my tragic and untimely death.

Emma sat in the front row, her face pale and blotchy, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she clutched a crumpled tissue, her sobs audible even over the low hum of the organ music. But no amount of weeping could erase the subtle, disdainful glances from the crowd—the whispered accusations that floated like specters in the air.

“She’s the reason he’s gone. I heard she was there when he died. She must have pushed him.”

“After those texts? How could he not confront her?”

“What a snake. Poor Lucian.”

The whispers coiled around Emma, and though she buried her face in her hands, the weight of their judgment was palpable. She was alone in her grief, isolated even among those who claimed to have loved me.

The glossy black casket rested at the front of the chapel, draped in a rich crimson cloth that bore the Ashford family crest. It was flanked by towering arrangements of white lilies and roses, their pristine beauty a stark contrast to the ugly truths now woven into my death. People filed past the casket one by one, their gazes lingering on the closed lid, as though they could divine some final wisdom from the life it now contained.

From where I sat, nestled beside Lilith in the pews near the back, it was surreal to watch them all. The polished wood pressed uncomfortably against my bare skin, a jarring reminder of the undignified state I was stuck in. It seemed that dying the way I had—naked and exposed—meant this was my permanent condition. Though I lacked skin to feel the chill of the air, it didn’t matter. The principle of being surrounded by everyone I’d ever known,exposed, sent a shiver of humiliation through me. They couldn’t see me, but I was still here… watching, aware,laid barein ways no one could fathom. The realization twisted in my gut like a cruel joke, adding another layer of humiliation to an already surreal nightmare.

My parents were there, stiff and composed, their grief buried beneath a veneer of aristocratic dignity. Old friends I hadn’t spoken to in years stood in clusters, whispering and glancing at Emma with barely concealed contempt. And then there was Ciaran, seated in the back row, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else, his presence heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.

“They’re all so predictable, aren’t they?” Lilith’s voice slid into my ear like velvet-coated poison, but it was her gaze driftingdownward that made my stomach twist. “And you, my darling—so vulnerable. It’s almost poetic.” Her laughter followed, soft but sharp, slicing through my composure like a blade. “Grieving the perfect little prince they never really knew. And your precious Emma? Oh, her tears are almost convincing.”

Her presence was a chilling weight beside me in the pew, her form flickering faintly in the dim light of the chapel. She sat unnervingly close, her leg brushing against mine in a way that made my entire body tense.

“Stop it,” I muttered, my voice low and strained. “Not here.”

Lilith’s laugh was soft, a dark hum of amusement. Her eyes roved over me, and the smug curve of her lips made my skin crawl. “Not here? Oh, Lucian, darling, this isexactlythe place. Besides…” Her fingers ghosted over my thigh, her touch sending a jolt through me. “I rather like you like this. Raw. Unfiltered… Don’t you see? They’re mourning you, loving you, idolizing you… and yet here you are, mine in every way that matters.”

I tried to pull away, to shift from her reach, but it was useless. Her fingers brushed against my arm, light as a whisper but impossible to ignore. The bond between us pulsed faintly, the connection both a tether and a chain. Her touch was cold, invasive, and it made my skin crawl—but I couldn’t escape it.

The service droned on, the priest’s words a hollow echo in the back of my mind. Lilith’s hand rested on my thigh now, her fingers curling slightly as though to stake her claim. Each touch sent a shiver through me, a reminder that no one else in this room could see the possession playing out in plain sight.

“Look at them,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Crying for you. Wishing they could have done more. But they’ll never know you like I do. They’ll neverhaveyou like I do.”

Her hand moved again, trailing lightly over my chest and down my arm, her nails grazing my skin in a way that felt both invasive and mocking. “It’s a shame no one else can see you likethis,” she whispered, her lips curving into a wicked grin. “Such a beautiful display, and none of it wasted on the living.” I glanced toward Ciaran, desperate for some kind of anchor, but his gaze was fixed on Lilith. There was a tightness in his jaw, a flicker of something sharp and bitter in his eyes. He saw her touch me. He saw everything.

And he did nothing.

Lilith’s fingers trailed down my back, her touch growing bolder as the minutes dragged on. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to stop her, to push her away, todosomething. But she was relentless, her presence pressing against me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Relax, darling,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper. “You’re mine now. Let me remind you what that means.”

I tried to focus on the priest's words, on the somber tone of the ceremony, on the grief etched into every line of my parents' faces. But Lilith was relentless, her hand insistent on my thigh, her touch both arousing and terrifying. I was dead, for god's sake. This shouldn't have been possible, and yet here I was, my cock hardening under her watchful gaze.

Lilith chuckled, a sound that seemed to echo through the cathedral, though only I could hear it. "Poor Lucian," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Even in death, you can't escape your baser instincts."

Her hand moved, her fingers wrapping around my cock. I tried to tell myself it was just a phantom sensation, that she couldn't actually touch me, not like this. But as her fingers stroked my length, I felt an embarrassing twitch of pleasure. My cock stiffened, betraying my unease. I tried to focus on the casket at the front of the room, on the reality of my death, but Lilith's laughter was a siren song that drowned out all other thoughts.

"Such a beautiful reaction," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear. "It's almost a shame they can't see you like this."

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