Page 63 of The Devil's Wrath

“Theo?” I whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” He sounded sleepy and content, his fingers lazily threading through my hair.

I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, his green eyes were soft and warm as they met mine.

“What you said earlier about Igor and The Collectors . . .” I hesitated, biting my lip. “I need you to promise me something.”

He frowned slightly, his hand stilling in my hair as he sensed the seriousness in my tone. “Anything, little bird. What is it?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Promise me that you won’tshut me out. No more secrets, no more hiding. I’m in this with you. All the way. Whatever happens, whatever we face, we do it together.”

His eyes searched mine, a mix of emotions playing across his face—love, fear, protectiveness, and a deep, aching vulnerability. His hand came up to cup my cheek as his thumb brushed over my skin with a featherlight touch.

“Wren, I . . .” He trailed off as he struggled to find the words.

“I would burn for you if you’d just let me in,” I told him.

And I meant every word.

His eyes widened at my words, and I saw fear flicker across his face—fear for me. For what loving him could mean.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

I held his gaze, unwavering in my conviction. “I do.” I leaned down, pressing my forehead against his. “Let me love you. All of you. Every scar, every shadow, every broken piece—especiallythe broken pieces.”

His arms tightened around me, crushing me to his chest as if he could absorb me into himself. “I’ll try,” he whispered against my hair. “For you, I’ll try. But if it ever becomes too much . . . if my darkness threatens to swallow you whole . . . promise me you’ll walk away. Promise me you’ll save yourself.”

“I’m not afraid,” I said softly but firmly.

He closed his eyes as if my words caused him physical pain. “You should be,” he whispered hoarsely. “You have no idea the things I’ve done. The monster I can be.”

I placed my hand on his cheek and gently turned his face back to mine. “Then show me. Let me see all of you. Show me your sin, Devil.”

He stared at me for a long moment as his green eyes searched mine, searching for any hint of hesitation or fear. When he found none, he let out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he said finally. “No more secrets, little bird. If we burn, we burn together.”

TWENTY-ONE

THEO

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a pale glow across her delicate features. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the soft flutter of her eyelids as she dreamed. In sleep, the lines of worry and fear that had etched themselves into her face were smoothed away, replaced by an almost childlike peacefulness.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, I eased myself off the bed, inch by inch, until I was free from the tangle of her limbs. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I tiptoed across the room, pulling my pants on and then holding my breath with each step. I paused at the door, glancing back at her slumbering form bathed in the ghostly moonlight filtering through the curtains.

She looked so tranquil . . . so innocent. An innocence that I was going to break. I knew she would take every bit of ruin I gave her because she didn’t know that loving me would be the end of her. And like the selfish bastard I was, I would let her. I knew I was no good for her—that I would only bring her pain. But I was too weak to let her go, too selfish to set her free. I clung to her like a drowning man to a life raft, desperate for the salvation she offered.

And yet, with every touch, every kiss, I was dragging her down with me, pulling her into the abyss of my darkness.

I didn’t deserve her. I never would. She was too good, too pure for the likes of me. But I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t resist the temptation of her love, even knowing that it would be her undoing.

I closed the door, walked downstairs, and went to the kitchen. The floor was icy against my bare feet. I reached for a bottle of whiskey in the back of the cupboard, my hands shaking as I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my lips.

The amber liquid burned my throat as it went down, but it was a familiar pain, a comfort, even. I took another swig, then another, until the world blurred at the edges and the ache in my chest dulled to a distant throb.

I slumped into the chair at the kitchen table with the bottle clutched in my hands like a lifeline. I stared into the darkness, the silence pressing in on me from all sides. In the stillness, the voices in my head grew louder, their whispers turning to shouts until they drowned out everything else.

“I’m going to make you wish you were dead,prizrak. Every cut, every bruise, every broken bone will be a reminder of your sins. You’ll never escape. I will tear your soul from your body and feed it to hell’s hounds. When I’m done with you, you’ll be a shell, a husk. And you’ll beg for death, but it won’t come. Not until I allow it.”

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