Page 129 of Eternal

I release the knife, and Declan takes it.

Declan holds one hand over my stomach while the other holds the knife, and when I open my eyes, I see that Weston’s expression has relaxed like he thinks this is over.

It isn’t.

Declan isn’t here to save anyone.

He’s my villain.

He’s my monster.

He’s mine.

“You remember what I said?” He kisses the top of my head.

“I remember.”

Declan moves so fast that I don’t have time to process it. It’s not until blood starts dripping down Weston’s throat that I fully comprehend what he’s done. In one swift move, Declan sliced Weston’s neck through to his vocal cords.

I watch as my godfather struggles to hold on. As he fights for air. I watch the life he took from me slip away until there’s only silence. And all that’s left is me, my slayed demons, and the man who rectified my pain, holding a bloody knife in his hand.

“He won’t hurt you again. And you needed to see that. To know it. So there could be no more questioning it, and no more fear.”

I plant my hand over Declan’s on my stomach, and I believe him. He didn’t bring my godfather here to taunt me with the past; he did it for closure. So I would know, without a doubt, that I was safe.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you ever again.” Declan drops the knife to the ground, and his words are whispered promises in my ear. “You’re mine, Teal. And I will protect you from the devil himself if I need to.”

The air in the room lifts, and my fear dissipates. While anyone else might fear Declan for what he’s done, I’m relieved.

I embrace this sickness that lives in both of us and spin in Declan’s arms, pulling him down for a kiss. His mouth slams to mine, and he’s everything bad for me—a bully and a manipulator. But he’s also everything good. My protector and the one person who has always seen me for who I am without wanting to change me.

“Thank you,” I mumble against his mouth as he picks me up.

He sinks his teeth into my lower lip and carries me to the center of the room, sinking to his knees and laying me flat on my canvas. Paint sticks to my hair and clothes, but I don’t care. I need this man who will fight for me. Who will sin for me. Who will turn on the House for me.

Declan tips my jaw back and kisses a path down my neck.

“Is it crazy if I’m thanking you for killing someone?”

“Stop calling yourself crazy.” Declan nips at my throat. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m far from perfect.” I can’t help arguing with him, even as he kneels between my legs and strips off my shirt. “And right now, I’m a mess in every way.”

His gaze roves over my paint-splattered skin. “You’re my masterpiece.”

He dips down, tugging one of my nipples between his teeth, and my back arches on a moan when he bites harder.

He moves to the other nipple, teasing it, as his fingers work the buttons on my shorts. He pulls back to strip them off with my underwear so I’m naked and stretched across the canvas beneath him.

“That’s better.” He grins, grazing his hands down the insides of my thighs.

“My painting is a mess now.” I quirk an eyebrow as he drags more paint over my skin.

“Just how I like it.”

Declan reaches over to one of the paint cans, pulling the mixing stick out of it so he can drip the blue paint along the canvas until he reaches me. He lets it dribble over my stomach before moving it to the other side.

“What are you doing?” I ask as the cool paint dribbles on my breasts.

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