Page 91 of Wicked Flavors

“Should we … have that ritualistic sex now?” Gwen suggested with a small tremor in her frame.

“I’d love nothing more…” Ambrosius trailed, before frowning.

It was only for a short moment, but Gwen could tell something had shifted. Call it instinct or perhaps a patternGwen had picked up on, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.

“Ambrosius?”

“I’m … afraid I might be dying.”

Gwen’s mind went blank.

That was when the black ink on Ambrosius’ skin roared to life.

38

Trusting

Gwen

Gwen was barely able to get Ambrosius to her bed.

Strength wasn’t Gwen’s strong suit, but in her desperation—and with the demon’s help—she had somehow managed. All the while, panic built in her throat. The ink that often swayed on Ambrosius’ skin was violently convulsing, like electricity ran through it. He was sweating, burning up under Gwen’s fingers as she loosened the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Ambrosius, what’s happening? What’s going on?” Gwen asked.

As more of his skin was revealed, Gwen could see eyes and mouths within the clusters of ink. A horrific sight made more gruesome by the obvious expressions of pain they displayed. Silent screams that Gwen felt more than heard. The demon groaned between clenched teeth, hands twisting into fists.

“Something’s wrong,” he managed. “It feels like I’m being … pulled from my vessel.”

“Your vessel?” Gwen pulled his dress shirt open.

“A demon at its core is still a spirit. This body—” Ambrosius’ eyes shut tightly as a slight tremor ran through his form. “Thisbodyisn’t my real form, but something I made in my image. It’s meant to host my spirit, as I cannot exist in the world without one. But it’s not without its imperfections. Sometimes, my real form pushes through—fuck, it’shot.”

The eyes, all the demonic parts of him,Gwen realized.

Quickly, Gwen helped him shed his jacket and dress shirt.

“And being separated from your body—” She pulled at the button of his dress pants. “—this hurts you?”

“It hurts when something else is pulling on my spirit,” Ambrosius managed. “But I don’t know what. I felt something like this when you died. I thought it was our connection on the verge of breaking, but this is something different. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

“But you have felt it before? You know what this is?”

If Ambrosius knew, he needed to tell Gwenimmediately. The sooner Gwen knew, the sooner she could fix whatever this was. Yet, she could tell by his gritted teeth that he was reluctant to do so. The same way he avoided questions she had asked in the past. Ambrosius was suffering, and a feeling of helplessness rapidly ate away at her nerves. The pain in her hands burned with every anxious ‘what if’ that tried to play through Gwen’s mind.

“Something or someone is trying to summon me.”

“Summon—what do you mean summon you?” Gwen licked her lips. “Do you mean like fucking high school kids trying to summon Bloody Mary?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m already stretched thin with the Antiquarium. It shouldn’t be possible, as every human who comes into contact with me through the shop dies within a week of meeting me. And I’ve been very careful about keeping myself hidden. Whatever is happening, it’s tearing me apart. We have to act fast.”

“Okay. Okay, just tell me what to do,” Gwen said.

“Take the book in the bathroom. I’ve implanted it with tools that will help keep you alive. It won’t protect you from everything, but it will ensure your survival. It’s intuitive. You won’t have to read it, just take the book into yourself. It will do the rest—fuck! Fuck, shit,fuck!” Ambrosius swore, his hand reaching for his hip.

Immediately, Gwen went for the zipper of his pants, but Ambrosius halted her hand.

“Leave it. The pressure helps,” he said weakly. “It’s not the source, just a side effect. I’ve had this pain longer than what’s happening to me.”

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