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When all my essence is crying out to be given to her, it’s torture—but it’s not more than I deserve for my impatience.
Loving your mate is instinctive for every Sombra demon. Our gods grant us only one, and they’re never, ever wrong. When we find our mate, we don’t hesitate.
Humans are different. I’ve learned much of their strange customs since I’ve been trapped in their world, and reactions that perplexed me at the time make more sense now that I have a human female of my own.
I never could understand why Malphas’s pale-haired female made him wait until the night of the gold moon and he was about to be dragged in chains back to Sombra before she claimed him in return. If she was his mate, wouldn’t she have wanted to bond herself to him immediately?
I had though s0—but I’ve now known of my beloved for four cycles and I’m no closer to claiming my forever mate than I was when I was a full-blooded demon in Sombra, serving under the duke.
My heart beats for her. Every breath I take is for Hope. I become part of the human world, try to learn their tongue, and I do it all for her.
The bond is there. I can follow it to her, no matter where she goes, though I do try to give her her privacy. It’s not right to see that which isn’t mine quite yet, so I always stand guard outside of the small room where she keeps her toilet and her shower stall. I will see her naked form when she allows me to, no sooner, though when it comes to her pleasure…
I am a weak male. When she finds her pleasure with the false cock the hums and buzzes, I hunger to watch her, but dutifully close my eyes to it before drifting from her private quarters to the floor below. As a phantom, my senses are duller than they are when I was a demon, but I would have to slice off my nose and my ears not to smell her delicious musk and hear her soft, whimpering cries.
One day, they will be for me.
At least, Ihopethey will…
Until then, I continue to think of a way I can reveal myself to her. It’s been seven human days—marked by every time Hope slumbers during the time of shadows—since I first brought the grimoire to her, and she’s kept it tucked away beneath her bedding for safekeeping.
And then, on the cusp of the next earthly cycle of its singular moon, I’m hovering in the corner of her quarters, watching her sleep fitfully when I finally sense something I’ve longed for for centuries.
My female is tugging on her end of our fated mate bond.
Since I’ve been broken, shattered,splinteredinto a phantom, I have not been able to summon a portal to return to Sombra. It’s as though the human world is keeping me here until I can either release my tie to Hope—or convince her to accept it.
I never attempted to use a portal to travel in search of the spellbook. I only followed the traces of Sombra that lingered in this realm, but when I think back on how far of a distance I was able to travel, maybe I did subconsciously summon one.
A Sombra mage, portals have always been one of my specialties. I could cross over countless planes, including the human world, Sombra, Soleil, and more… including the dream plane.
I’ve been there once before, helping Duke Haures reach his human mate when Bazael tried to harm her. I had forgotten about it, but when I sense the tug and see the hazy patch of opalescent-like shadow hovering around the level of my horns, I’m suddenly reminded.
That’s when I understand justwheremy Hope is calling me to her. As though part of her has finally accepted that I am here, that I would do anything for her, and that I have enough magic stored deep inside of me to reach her after all… when she tugs on our bond, I’m helpless but to answer her, touching the shimmering ball with my claw and allowing it to carry me to her.
After all, she is my mate. There is nothing in this world or any other that would prevent me from going to her when she calls.
CHAPTER5
SAMMAEL’S PLEASE
HOPE
I’ve always been a very vivid dreamer.
Growing up, there were times that I would wake up, convinced something had happened, only to have Johanna tease me that I was seeing things while I slept again.
What can I say? If I wasn’t a librarian, maybe I would’ve been a storyteller. I love reading, love watching movies, and if my grammar was better, who knows? Maybe I would’ve become a creative instead of happily settling down to be a guardian of books.
Nowadays, I get most of my creative outlet in my dreams. From as far back as I can recall, I would often have a faceless, featureless shadow creature that would visit me. He—because I was sure it was ahe—never spoke, and he always lurked far away, melding into the other shadows, but I wasn’t afraid. Shocking, huh? I’m scared of nearly everything else, but a shadow creature?
Oh, no. Why wouldthatfrighten me?
You think he would. Nope. As a kid, I thought of him as a guardian angel. As an adult, I rarely thought of him as all.
Lately, though, I’ve had a few dreams where it seems like I’m the one searching for him. As a vivid dreamer, I can’t really tell if I’m asleep or not, and I seem to control the narrative, trying to trigger a story in my head while watching to see how it would play out.
That’s what happens tonight.
