Page 62 of Mortis

That man was far too interested in the woods, He murmured inside my mind. And his eyes unsettled me.

I agreed instantly. The same prickling sensation had crawled beneath my skin every time Sebastian’s mismatched eyes settled on me.

It felt as though he knew us, the Beast continued. And if he did not, then we have certainly captured his curiosity.

I nodded to myself before letting my attention drift towards Teddy. From my seat at the dining table, I could only see his back as he prepared what was apparently my dinner.

“A steak and kidney pie,” he’d proudly announced earlier. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Though I’ve never actually made one with human flesh and kidneys.” Another pause. “I’ve never made one at all, actually. So, fingers crossed.”

He was rolling out the dough now. A pale sheet of butter and flour beneath the wooden rolling pin. I found myself watching the steady rhythm of his movements. The muscles beneath his sleeveless burgundy jumper shifted with each push. His white shirt was rolled neatly to his elbows to keep the sleeves clean, revealing lean forearms dusted with light brown hairs. His fingers curled confidently around the rolling pin.

The breeze drifting through the open window carried his sweet scent towards me. Honey. Sweet and thick. It filled my lungs, and for one brief, dangerous moment, my imagination wandered somewhere it ought not. To his lean fingers wrapped around not the rolling pin, but a part of me that I usually kept hidden. A part that Teddy had glimpsed on more than one occasion, causing him to blush beautifully and stumble over his words.

He smells delectable.

The Beast’s interruption tore me from my thoughts, and I silently chastised myself.

We are demons, He replied with what felt like an eye roll. There is nothing unnatural about thinking with our baser instincts. Or acting upon them.

We are demons of Greed, I snapped back. Not Lust.

His laughter echoed through my mind. Low, confident, and infuriatingly smug.

Each of the Seven Sins was created to coexist, my sweet vessel. We may be born of Mammon’s Greed . . .

A warm thrill rolled through my body before I had time to stop it, and my cock perked up in the stiff jeans Teddy had bought for me.

But that does not mean we are blind to Asmodeus’ Lust . . .

The feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, and heat swept through me instead. Violent and scalding. My jaw locked. My fists clenched beneath the table. For one terrifying heartbeat, I wanted to destroy something. Anything.

Or Satan’s Wrath . . .

Then, just as suddenly, the anger dissolved, leaving only a dull ache inside my chest. My thoughts drifted back to Sebastian and his strange eyes. The way they’d lingered on Teddy. On my Teddy. His gaze had travelled over my mortal as though he wished to prise him open and discover what made him tick. It made something dark twist inside me. Protective and possessive.

And Leviathan’s Envy.

The feeling vanished. I slumped back in my chair as the Beast released His hold over my emotions. Each one had felt strangely familiar. Not new, but simply unnamed.

Had they always existed inside me, and I just didn’t know how to recognise them?

You see, my vessel, the Beast murmured, settling comfortably into the darkness of my mind once more. We may belong to Mammon. But we are no less multifaceted than the mortals we consume.

Silence settled between us. Then, just before He drifted back into slumber, He spoke one final time.

You and the mortal are not so different. Perhaps you should discover whether his baser instincts resemble your own.

With the Beast’s parting words still circling my mind, I rose from my chair and crossed the kitchen in long, silent strides. Resting my hands on the counter on either side of Teddy, I leaned over his shoulder.

“May I assist you, Teddy?”

He jumped, exactly as I’d expected. One flour-covered hand flew to his chest, no doubt checking the pulse I could already see racing beneath the skin of his throat. The dark apron he wore protected his burgundy jumper from the dusting of flour covering the worktop. He leaned back against my chest and tilted his head to glare up at me.

The look lacked the indignation I’d become accustomed to. Instead, it felt almost fond, and something warm unfurled inside my chest.

Maybe he was no longer annoyed when I startled him, and had simply accepted it.

Accepted me.