Page 99 of Corrupt Shadows

I run my finger along the line of dried blood crusted over his mirrored skull tattoo.

“My demon.”

“My witch.”

FORTY-THREE

Lorcan

My steps thud softly against the hardwood floors in the library as I pace and think about last night. I released my madness fully for the first time in decades, and it was more than ready to play. My control slipped as Ezra mocked me. I can still hear his voice echoing in my mind.

Don’t use your shadows against me, Lorcan. Some of us have had centuries of training while others rotted in a cage.

It was always this way between Ezra and me. Whenever we were near each other as adolescents, the tension between us was like a volcano ready to erupt. He triggered my madness to take control of my body. If my witch did not submit to my madness as she did, the outcome would’ve been catastrophically different.

I am in awe of this woman. Evie has finally accepted that she is mine. Thoughts swirl in my mind of all the ways I can make her darkest, dirtiest fantasies a reality.

My thoughts are interrupted as dread runs an icy finger down my spine. Ezra won’t be gone for long. Demonic blades do affect us, but it’s not the instant death non-royals receive from their cuts. There is no fucking chance that he will not retaliate for the suffering I caused him.

Guilt covers me as flashes of memories creep into my thoughts. I don’t regret taking her with my demon cock, though the madness was not even remotely gentle. Evie craves to be used violently; however, as I watched from within my mind, there were times when she was petrified of my madness.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. She and I have bonded through our trauma, and she is the only one who understands me. I can’t be apart from my witch. I need to explain to her that she’ll stay here with me. I’m just too selfish to let her go.

I wonder if she’s gotten my note yet.

Replacing the Fallenmoore mirror is still my priority, and I know my little witch is more than capable. Perhaps she would be more willing if I allowed her to visit her bat and best friend.

I groan, gripping the mantle over the fireplace. I need to show her who I really am… unmask myself literally and metaphorically.

My fingers tremble as I touch the edge of the mask, then I ball my hands into fists at my sides. Something as simple as revealing my face should not make me feel like this. Anxiety grips my heart violently. Evie will have complete power over me if she desires it when she sees what’s beneath the mask. I sigh deeply, lowering my head between my outstretched arms.

My thoughts are too fucking loud. Flashes of memories from my time in that cage have me on edge. I massage my temples as I stare at the warm purple flames dancing along the pine logs. I send a shadow toward the stereo and play dark, haunting songs on a loop. I run my fingers along the varying book spines, willing the music to distract me.

Music is my refuge from the trauma my mind insists on replaying, dulling the edges of the jagged pieces slicing into my brain. The edges are quick to sharpen, but ever since she came into my life, the cycle is much slower. I know that those memories, the sharp reminders of the pain I’ve endured, will always be there. Yet some sick part of me is relieved. I’ve been trapped within myself for so long that life without misery is terrifying.

I twist my head toward the engraved door as quick footsteps sound down the hall. A few moments later, Evie cracks open the door and slips inside. She walks into the room cautiously, as if she hasn’t spent hours upon hours exploring its shelves.

The thrill of watching her without her knowledge will always be something I enjoy. I will never stop stalking her from within the shadows. When my witch reads, a small smile curves her lips, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that only surfaces when she has her nose in a book.

She walks toward me but stops several yards away. Her eyes dart around the room, and her fingers tremble before she crosses her arms over her chest. Shit. Did I hurt her last night? Or is my witch nervous about facing me in the light of day?

“Evie.”

She looks up, her eyes darting to mine. “Lorcan,” she says as pink tinges her cheeks.

“I want to show you something.”

It’s time to prove to her and myself that I am not afraid to be vulnerable around her. To offer her my broken pieces and hope that she’s willing to cut herself on their edges.

I squeeze my eyes shut and rip the mask away from my face.

Evie gasps, and my eyes flick open. Her hands fly to her mouth, then she slowly reaches a hand toward my cheek. I know what she sees, the disfigurement my brother granted me with. Her warm palm caresses my stubbled jaw, and she brushes her thumb over the branding Ezra etched into my skin. Her hazel eyes shimmer with unshed tears, thins wisps of black swirling within them. Her lower lip trembles from the force of her emotions.

“Lorcan,” she says softly, still tracing the word on my cheekbone.

I turn my head, looking toward the fire. My throat bobs as I swallow, anger simmering in my veins. I don’t want to witness her tears for me. Evie sniffles and cups the other side of my cheek, bringing my gaze back toward her. My lips form into a thin line as she gives me a sad smile.

“Do not pity me, witch.”