My eyes shoot open once more, darting to my right where he’s sitting, leaning over my body as he touches me softly. Julian is smiling, his dark hair falling onto his forehead as he looks at me as if... as if he adores me.
I must have lost some much-needed brain cells alongside the energy the incubus took from me.
I want to sit up, to shove him away and freak out, but my body is so exhausted that I fear I’ll simply fall right back onto the mattress if I attempt it. It has to have been only minutes, or maybe an hour or two, since the Incubus left.
No time to recover, no time to sort out my thoughts.
“Julian,” I breathe. “What are you... Leave. Now.”
“Atlas—”
“No. I’ll scream if I have to, but you must leave right now. I don’t even know how you got in.” My tone is demanding, if not a bit cruel, but Julian just narrows his eyes at mine.
“Why? Is your boyfriend returning soon?” he asks, his own voice taking on a hint of malice.
Oh. So hedidn’tsee the incubus again. This bodes well for me, actually. I can send him away under the pretense of loving another man, and suffer alone as I have always intended to.
In fact, his being here now is confusing me. Wasn’t he just absolutely disgusted by me and my desires?
“Yes, he is,” I confirm. “Now leave, before he returns and you make things difficult for me. Stop inserting yourself where you’re not welcome.”
Hurt flashes across Julian’s features, and if it wasn’t protecting his livelihood—and my own heart—I’d feel guilty for saying it.
“You’re a cruel little thing,” he eventually whispers, leaning down, and the closer he gets, the harder it is to breathe. “Will you ever stop lying to me?”
“Huh?” I mumble, unable to say much else as every one of his exhales falls upon my lips, and I can practicallytastehim. My body is acting as if I didn’t just come twice—as if I’ve never experienced pleasure before now.
“You don’t have a boyfriend, Atlas,” he tells me. “Want to know how I know?”
“H-how?”
“Because thatthingcame to my room, too.”
My eyes widen, my heart dropping so fast I choke on my own spit and have to focus onnotvomiting right here and now. With a renewed burst of strength, I sit up, inches from busting my forehead against Julian’s.
He does not move, only watching me with assessing, calculating eyes.
“He... it…What?!”
Slowly, a small, vicious grin shapes his full lips. “How else do you think I got these beauty marks?”
He doesn’t have to touch them—I know he’s talking about the scratches on his cheeks.
I’d spent all day suffering under the idea that some otherpersonhad harmed him, when it wasmydemon who’d done it all along.
Oh, god. I… I think I’m going to panic. I can’t breathe. I haven’t even attempted to confess my feelings to Julian yet, and I’m already harming him with my demonic condition.
Oscar was right—I should have been afraid of what the incubus would do after being stunted that night. I shouldn’t have become so complacent in my sick pleasure.
“Julian,” I choke out, his face becoming blurry behind my tears. My fingers lift, hesitantly grazing the marks on his face. “I’m so, so sorry. I… I never thought it would… why would it…”
I can’t seem to finish a sentence or a logical thought.
Julian uses both hands and wipes my eyes gently, clearing my tears so that I can see him clearly. He’s no longer grinning but instead is staring at me with so much pity and anguish that I want to shove a blade straight through my chest.
“It came again tonight,” he tells me. “It pressed me down onto my mattress and then left, as if warning me. Telling me to stay put.”
He’s watching me, waiting for a reaction, but I’m unclear on what he’s implying. The incubus came to his room before it appeared to me, and all buttoldhim to stay in bed. Okay…?
