Page 14 of Can't Bite This Feeling
I smile—my first real, unguarded smile for centuries—and press a kiss to her lips before lifting her into my arms. “Then let me show you.” I lower her to her feet and thread our fingers together, tugging her toward the door. I’m ready to face whatever waits beyond it. Together. “Let me show you this new world.”
“Will it be cold?” she asks, plucking at the delicate cotton shift she’s still wearing.
I frown. She can’t go outside like that.
I snap my fingers, and she’s suddenly dressed in tight blue jeans, an emerald green blouse, and a pair of black Converse. She’s adorably sexy, even in this modern attire. I swallow hard. Fuck, those jeans do incredible things for her curves. I want to trace my hands over her hips and cup her rounded ass, but she pushes away from me to stare at the clothes.
“You have this kind of power now?” she gasps, looking down at the silk blouse. “It’s so fine.”
“I have many new powers. I tried to resurrect you for centuries. I performed black magic, searched out ancient tomes, bargained and traded for anything that might offer me hope. Nothing worked until Lucifer gave me a solution I couldn’t refuse—to tempt humans into bargaining their souls for favors and reaping those souls when it was time to collect. In exchange, he promised to resurrect you.”
“You wanted me back that much? Loved me that much?” she asks softly.
My throat works around a knot so tight it feels like it might choke me. “More than you will ever comprehend,” I rasp. “Every moment you were gone was worse than death. I would have burned down heaven itself to have you in my arms again.”
I don’t tell her that with every soul I reap, I sink deeper into the darkness. That it pulls at me like the need for blood when I was a vampire. How many souls can I reap before I lose myself completely?
I push the thought away. I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times over to be exactly where I am right now, standing before my woman, her eyes shining with love and awe.
Slowly, Drusilla reaches out and brushes her fingers along my jaw, studying my horns, my crimson eyes, and the sharp lines of my demon form as if she’s memorizing me all over again.
“I don’t care what you’ve become,” she whispers. “You’re still mine.”
A rough, broken sound tears from my throat, half a growl, half a sob. I close the small distance between us and kiss her again, desperate and raw. She tastes like home, like hope. Like everything I’ve fought for.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. “Stay close to me out there,” I warn, letting a bit of my demon edge bleed through. “Screaming Woods is…unpredictable. And you’re human now.”
Drusilla nods, her lips quirking faintly in a familiar, fearless smile. “I survived a Roman father, an arranged marriage, and death. I think I can survive Screaming Woods.”
Gods, I love this woman.
I press another kiss to her temple. “That’s my girl.”
She hesitates. “Won’t they, um, notice you out there?” Her head tilts to the right, and the gesture is so familiar and alluring that my poor, tiny demon heart misses a beat.
“This place is magical, my love. We’ll be the least noticeable of all the beings we’ll see outside, I assure you. Come on. You’re going to love this.”
I open the door, and we step into the hallway, ready to face the strange, dangerous wonderland of Screaming Woods, side by side.
Drusilla stands frozen outside the inn’s battered wooden door, clutching my hand like a lifeline, her eyes wide as they sweep over our surroundings.
It’s a place like no other—a town of curses and second chances, forever changed by magic that should never have touched mortal soil. An ancient magic pulses beneath the earth here and has spilled into the neighboring town of Fable Forest.
Signs adorn crooked buildings, their letters rearranging themselves as though the words can’t settle on a single truth. Gaslights burn in twisted iron sconces that seem to breathe with a faint, unnatural life. The street ripples as if it might shift direction underfoot at any moment.
And the people—Gods, the people.
They wander the square with an easy confidence that belies the monstrous power sleeping beneath their skin. A centaur in ripped jeans. A girl with flowers growing from her hair. A gargoyle perched lazily on the edge of a lamppost, his wings folded like a predator in wait. A group of witches bargaining over candied apples at a market cart. Children made of swirling shadow race each other across the square, their laughter impossibly bright.
Drusilla’s gaze follows them, her lips parting in wonder. I watch as she takes it all in. Her breathing stutters, and her eyes widen with wonder, awe, and fear. Then she lifts her chin with the same unbreakable courage that lured me to her centuries ago. Even in this broken, enchanted town, where nightmares sleep with their eyes open, she is the bravest soul I have ever known.
“Rapha,” she breathes, “I don’t understand half of what I’m seeing.”
“You don’t have to,” I murmur, brushing my knuckles down her arm to steady her. “You just have to stay by my side.”
She turns to me then, and I see the spark in her dark eyes as they lock onto mine, that spark I thought I’d lost.
“Show me,” she says, voice steady even as her hands tremble. “Show me everything.”
