The thought did not finish.
The shadows around him began to writhe, responding to the surge of emotion he no longer bothered to suppress, the cavern darkening as his control thinned.
“Lyssena,” he said again, but this time her name was not a call.
It was a plea.
And the silence that answered him was unbearable.
Chapter Forty-Two
The Option That No Longer Existed
Lyssena
The pearls felt weightless.
“My human,” Rolam said, “never chose me back.”
She lowered the case slowly onto the table between them, the sound of velvet against shadow sounding louder than it should have in the cavern’s hush.
“You loved her?” she asked.
It felt like a fragile question, though she was not entirely sure why. Perhaps because love, when spoken by a demon, sounded less like warmth.
Rolam did not look offended by it. If anything, his expression softened.
“I did not know what it was at first,” he replied. “She was . . . curious. Unafraid in ways the others were not. She would ask me questions instead of running.”
Lyssena could picture a human woman standing before him, chin lifted, unaware of the vastness she was addressing.
“I returned the next season,” Rolam continued, though something quieter threaded beneath his voice. “And then the next. Eventually, I found that waiting an entire year between visits was . . . hard.”
“So I came every month. Then every week.”
His fingers idly traced the rim of one of the tall glass jars beside him, and Lyssena noticed another thing that was different from Erevos. Rolam acted more human.
“And then,” he finished, “every day.”
“You became attached,” she said.
“I became obsessed,” Rolam corrected without hesitation.
There was no shame in the admission.
“I learned her languages. Plural,” he added. “I took her across oceans. Showed her mountains that cut into the sky. Deserts that swallowed the horizon. Cities bright enough to rival stars.”
As he spoke, his voice carried more color than Lyssena had heard from anyone.
“I began to feel more,” he said, then paused as though he sank deep into thought. “Impatience when she did not smile. Satisfaction when she did. Irritation at other men who approached her. Pride when she chose my company.”
His gaze flicked toward Lyssena then, searching her expression.
“Demons do not experience such gradual escalation. We hunger. We take. We discard. It is efficient.”
“And yet,” Lyssena murmured.
“And yet,” he agreed.
