Page 45 of A Wild Darkness

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “The Black Veil Society is real, and we’re going to be the ones to bring them down.”

I’m not one to admit I’ve never experienced dark, intrusive thoughts—after all, humans are inherently evil in their own way. Knowing at some point I’ll have to help Sebastian and his team end the lives of the people who stood in front of me earlier this evening is a bit jarring.

But I think of the innocent lives lying on my table over the years of being a mortician. Most died before what society would deem as their “time to go,” and the possibility of me now holding the power to prevent some from leaving this earth too soon is exhilarating—and deeply disturbing.

“I know. I’m aware of what I agreed to.” Suddenly, my stomach growls. Hunger or nerves—perhaps I should eat. “Not to change the subject, but I’m hungry. Do you think Ben has anything pre-made in the fridge?”

“Absolutely,” he says.

We both head toward the kitchen.

Nightlights illuminate the tops of the tall cabinets and underneath them, giving only give a small, dull light source in the room’s darkness.

I walk straight toward the refrigerator, but Sebastian’s hand comes out to stop me. “I’ll get it for you.”

I smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, opening the fridge. “We have chicken parmesan, stuffed bell peppers, a chef salad—” He names off the prepped food from behind the door.

“I’ll take the chef salad.”

“Perfect.” Sebastian pulls out the salad and three different dressings and places them onto the large island in front of me.

My mouth waters at the sight of the food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.

Empty-handed, Sebastian slumps down into the chair next to mine.

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” he replies.

“Oh.”

“Tragic poem, though.” He leans in, his breath dusts the edge of my lips, and a tingle forms. I swallow hard, wanting to pull back. “And although most people don’t realize what a hopeless romantic he was, Annabel Lee focuses on his eternal love, but an incredibly tragic loss.”

With everything in me, I try to hide the shock and the flutters that spontaneously appeared inside my chest, and somehow I’m able to calm myself enough to reply. “I’m impressed.”

“So am I.” A smirk playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a hopeless romantic, Stevie.”

“I’m not. Actually, I think that’d be furthest from the truth. The reason I admire Mr. Poe so much is because of his respect for the dead.” I draw back, but only with enough space to pop a cherry tomato into my mouth. “And not to mention, the intensity of his melancholic personality. I find it appealing.”

Sebastian’s eyes flick down to my lips, then back up as quickly. “You’re a tortured romantic then?”

“I’m not any type of romantic.”

“It is said he was in love with Annabel Lee, correct?” he points out.

Is he insinuating I somehow have the hots for a dead guy?

“I explained why I respect his work, and it has nothing to do with my wanting to bang him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you think that I secretly get my rocks off with thoughts of Edgar Allan Poe? Please.” I roll my eyes, drawing back.

He finally mirrors me, creating a less tense space between us. “I don’t know.”

“Really?”