Page 110 of A Soul to Steal

Apparently another version of himself trapped him in this life, but he couldn’t remember it. He remembered nothing, and yet why did he have to be the one to suffer it?

Why did I do it? Why did I bond myself to this Duskwalker... forever?How could he make such a decision? He couldn’t comprehend it. No human should bond themselves to a monster, so how could he be so careless?

The groin seam of his pants pressed against the hard length of his dick running down his pant leg, and it hurt. Despite it being crushed, or trying to snap in half, he couldn’t find the strength to unfurl himself in that moment.

He wanted to pull his hair out, curse at his past and his dead self. He shook with stress that wouldn’t leave him be, and the loss of his life that happened eight years ago, but was only a blink of an eye for him.

He’d had four days to adjust to all this, and he... wasn’t. Four days wasn’t much time to learn that everything he’d known, everyone he’d loved, and who he’d been, was all gone. Then, on top of that, he felt so trapped and pressured by this Duskwalker that he couldn’t handle it.

It felt like his consent had been taken away, his very freedom. His whole life had been stolen from him, and yet he was supposed to just smile and be fucking happy about it?

How am I supposed to do that?

Four days ago, Demons and Duskwalkers were nothing but horrible, terrifying, human-eating, vile monsters to him. There had been no reason to differentiate between them. They were just bloodthirsty creatures that desired to tear his skin from his muscles and suck on the marrow of his bones.

One had even done so.

“Why?” he whispered, wishing he could have an answer as to how or why past Gideon had done this all to himself. How could he have possibly... loved Aleron? It was too farfetched to believe, and he doubted it completely.

It was a lie, that’s what he told himself. Something Aleron said to keep him complacent, to trick him into accepting this bond he was unwilling to be a part of.

It had to be...

“You were cold,” Aleron answered him instead. He shouldn’t have been expecting his stupid dead self to give him one, but his features crinkled in hurt at the resounding silence from himself. “You were shivering, so I thought warming you with my wings would be better.”

Aleron was wrapping what he’d done with apparent kindness? Yes, Gideon remembered shivering to sleep, but he didn’t remember being forcibly dragged into his wings.

Only the dream. Flickering images of them fucking like two inseparable, crazed beings.

No, I didn’t.He crossed his arms behind his head, squishing his elbows against the side of his face to stop it from touching the ground. He breathed in dirt and grass, finding it settled his anxiety and helped to clear his system of Aleron’s scent.I didn’t fuck him in the afterlife. It’s not real. Just a dream. Please.

“Just let me be cold,” Gideon stated, his voice cracked and low.

He’d rather be cold than be hard against his will. He wanted to be in control – of his life, his body, his thoughts. They were all he had left.

At least he felt more alert than the disassociating stupor he’d been in for the past day.

I need to walk.Rushing to his feet and stumbling, he balanced against a tree trunk to right his footing. Then he strode forward.

Aleron followed – Gideon knew he would. His footsteps were loud, crunching, and always kept him alerted to the monster that continued to chase him.

He was prey constantly being hunted.

Moving through the forest with a tight chest, his lungs never ceasing to be swollen with his frantic breaths, he didn’t care to take in his environment. It didn’t matter where he went, what was around him, or his destination.

The only purpose he had was this: to walk.

He had no job, no home, no friends or family. He had nothing, and without a goal, a purpose, he feared he’d crumble. He feared... he’d give up. He didn’t even need toeat,to pee, since he didn’t drink water. Nothing made him feel human or gave him drive now. He didn’t need to hunt for food, which gave all people a purpose.

Although he’d been given a second chance at life, if he didn’t walk until he sorted through his thoughts, he worried about what he’d do to himself. If he gave up... he’d seek the afterlife again.

And Gideon refused that too.

Despite how low his will was, despite how empty and hollow he felt, despite how imprisoned he was, Gideon held onto life with the last of his strength. He clutched that last thread with a vice grip.

He was struggling. He knew his mind to be deeply unwell, his heart bruised and broken. He was trying to process all thesteps of grief at the same time, on his own. Denial, acceptance, bargaining, depression, and definitely anger.

In his own way, he also...triedto not take that out on Aleron.

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