“That’s just it, Fee,” Conah said. “No one should be speaking to her. Not even you.”
Needles pricked the back of my mind, and my fingers tingled. “What … What do you mean?”
Conah took a breath through his nose as if preparing to deliver bad news, and my stomach cramped in response. A door in the back of my mind creaked open.
No.
No, don’t say anything.
I didn’t want to know what the thing behind that door was. The thing I’d locked up and forgotten, the thing …
I shook my head, my eyes welling. Why did I want to cry?
Cora frowned at me in confusion even as the door in the back of my mind swung wider.
“She turned up when your aunt died in that accident,” Conah said softly. “The accident you felt responsible for. You’d locked yourself away. You were spiraling in your grief, but a part of you knew you needed to come out. That part of you knew what you needed, and so, it somehow created it. I saw the photograph in your room. Of you, as a child, clutching a doll. A favorite toy?”
No …
Cora blinked at me in confusion. “What? What is he talking about, Fee?”
“Have you heard of a tulpa?” Mal asked.
I shook my head even as the truth of what they were saying pricked at my consciousness and pulled the door wider.
“You know, Fee,” Mal said softly. “I can see, you know.”
I turned my head and looked at Cora, looked into her cornflower blue eyes, at her sweet, kind face. A face I’d seen before so many times when I’d played with Lissa and hugged her to sleep at night. Lissa, my doll, had been my comfort blanket. The first thing Aunt Lara had bought me. I’d taken her everywhere with me. She was in almost every photograph of me. She hadn’t left my side until we’d gone on a picnic, and I’d accidentally left her behind. We’d gone back for her, but she’d been gone. I’d cried myself to sleep for days.
“A tulpa is a being that is created by another’s spiritual and mental power,” Conah continued. “A consciousness that usually lives inside the creator’s head as a separate entity. Only the creator can interact with it. Except in your case, your tulpa exists outside of your head where everyone can interact with it.”
Tulpa … I stared at Cora. Cora … Lissa … my comfort blanket…
“You think I’m one of these tulpa things?” Cora scoffed.
My mouth was suddenly too dry as memories drifted out of that door. “I slept for days.” I rubbed my temple. “I dreamt of being a child. Of being with Aunt Lara. Of having Lissa back. Of being happy… When I woke up, you were at the door. Three days had passed, but I thought I got the date wrong, and that in my grief, I’d lost time. It didn’t matter because when I opened that door, I knew you were meant to be there. I knew we were connected.”
Oh, God. Oh, fuck, it was true. I’d blocked it out. I’d explained it away. I’d labeled her a ghost and treated her like one. I’d needed comfort, and I’d created it.
“Pfft,” Cora said. “Bullshit. I’m a ghost. I had a life.”
“And how much do you remember?” Conah asked her.
“I was killed. Shot. It was an accident.”
“And before that?”
“I had a boyfriend. We were happy, we … We were so happy.”
“And before that. What about your mother? Your father?”
“Foster homes.”
“What about your foster families?”
Her gaze flashed from side to side. “I … I can’t remember.”
Broken … this is what they’d meant.
“We didn’t want to push you too soon,” Conah said. “We didn’t know how deep the mental fracture was and if we could …”
“If we could trust you to hold out under pressure,” Mal finished for him.
But I had. I’d held out.
“You get so invested,” Conah added. “Like with the younglings at the Academy. You almost derailed their training with all your—”
“Compassion?” Cora said. “I think the word you’re looking for is compassion.” She linked arms with me, and there was no ignoring the tremor that was running through her body. She was shaking despite her bravado. “And Fee gets invested because she fucking cares,” she continued. “It’s what’s going to make her ten times the Dominus you’ll ever be. I don’t know what I am, ghost, tulpa, whatever. But I’m here. I belong here with Fee, and no one fucks with my bestie.”
I lifted my chin and stared down my nose at them, taking my cue from Cora. “I may have been fractured, but fractures heal. They leave scars, but they heal. I may have created a tulpa, but I created a damn fantastic one. One who’s her own person. One I love.” Cora gave my arm a squeeze. “I dealt with my grief, and I dealt with the vamps today, and if you’d simply spoken to me about this when we first met, all the subterfuge could have been avoided. So, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t have to prove myself to you. From now on, you’ll need to earn my trust.”
I strode past them, taking Cora with me, but paused in the doorway. “Oh, and I’m going to need a new comm. Stat.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cyril
A tulpa … that’s new.
I watch as Cora and Fee leave the room, and I’m about to slip away when a sixth sense stops me.
“She healed the Loup,” Mal says.
“I heard,” Conah replies.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out,” Conah says.
“We should tell her,” Mal replies.
“Right now, there’s nothing to tell. It may be nothing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. After what you did today, you need those brownie points.”
“Or maybe it’s you that wants the points,” Conah sneers. “To get you into her bed.”
“Fuck you, Con.”
“I won’t let you use her to sate your appetite.” His voice fades away.
He is leaving the room.
“So nice to know you think so highly of me,” Mal says, and then there is silence.
Secretsss. More secrets. Will these males never learn?
Chapter Twenty
Cora and I didn’t stop till we got to my room, and then I closed and locked the door and turned to her.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, her shoulders slumped and her head down.
“Cor …” I didn’t know what to say.
The truth of what Mal and Conah had just told me was still settling. It hadn’t hit yet. I’d created her. With my will. With some mystical power I didn’t even know I had.
“Fee … what the fuck am I?” Her voice was a tremulous whisper, a far cry from the tough persona she’d projected in front of the guys. “What the fuck am I?”
I’d never seen her like this—unsure and frightened. Her fear tightened my gut and chilled my bones. I didn’t completely understand it either, but I knew what I felt. I believed the reality of our relationship.
“You’re mine.” My tone was strong and confident.
She raised her head and locked her tear-rimmed gaze with mine. “I’m not real. I’m a figment of your imagination. I’m a … a thing.”
Fuck, no. I joined her on the bed and slung my arm around her shoulders. “You’re real, Cora. You’re solid and warm. You’re real. You’re my best friend, and maybe you did start out as a wish, but you took on a life of your own. You are your own person.” I squeezed her shoulders. “You’re my best friend, and you’re here. That’s all that matters.”
She didn’t say anything, just crawled up onto my bed and curled up under the duvet. I lay down behind her and wrapped my arm around her.
“Can I sleep, Fee? Can I please just sleep for a while.”
“Of course you can, babe. I’m here. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Long minutes passed, and eventually, her breathing evened out. She was asleep. I don’t think I’d ever seen her sleep before. I’m not sure how long we lay like that with me listening to h
“How issss she?” Cyril asked.
“You heard?”
“I may have caught the tail end of the conversssation.”
“I don’t know what to do, Cyril. I don’t understand any of this.”
“Do you need to understand it?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, does what she is matter?”
He was right. It really didn’t. “Nothing’s changed … not really. She’s still here. She’s still my best friend.”
“Exactly, and that’s what she needsss to focus on. I’m a sssnake, you’re a demon, and she’sss a tulpa.”
He made it sound so simple, and maybe it was.
“There’s something else,” Cyril said. “After you left, I overheard the males speaking. I believe there may be more they aren’t telling you. They, however, don’t believe it’ss an issue yet, whatever it may be. But you may wish to presss them.”
Secrets. I was beginning to hate that word. “I’ll speak to them, but right now, I need to focus on Cora. She needs me. I’ve been running around doing a whole load of stuff, and we’ve barely spent any time together. I need to fix that.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Get that. I’ll lie with her,” Cyril offered.
I climbed off the bed, allowing him to take my place, and then padded across the room to the door.
Azazel stood outside my door. I blinked up at him in surprise. He was the last person I’d expected to see tonight.
“A word,” he said.
I stepped out, closed the door behind me, and stood facing him. He was so fucking tall and broad that he blocked me in. He looked down his nose at me, so his lashes fanned against his cheeks. Dark lashes contrasting with his silver hair. His eyes were milky right now, making me wonder once again what he was seeing when he looked at me. The mark on my chest throbbed softly as if reminding me what he was meant to be to me. I resisted the urge to rub it.
“Grayson and his pack are safe,” he said tersely. “The Rising Pack graciously agreed to waive their right to blood recompense. They’re working things out.”
I didn’t need to ask what that meant. “Thank you.”
He inhaled and held his breath a moment before letting it go. “You were reckless today.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, to tell him where to shove his judgment, but he cut me off with a glance.
“But you saved lives. You fought well, and you survived. You’re ready.”
Wait, what did he mean, I was ready? As in, no more need for training. No more one-on-one sessions with him?
A hollow pit opened up in my chest. “I could still do with training. Sparring. Just to stay in top form.”
He considered me a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I have managed to procure an amulet that will help hide your true heritage from Lilith. It should be ready soon.”
“Wait, I thought the scythe nulled enchantments?”
“It strips them over time, which is why the amulet will have to be recharged every month.” He grimaced as if the thought was distasteful. “But it will afford you some protection.”
“What about the fact I look like Eve?”
“There was never anything to be done about that. Lilith rarely ventures into the human realm; none of the oldest demons who recall Eve’s face do.”
He’d gone out of his way to find me protection, and yes, I knew he had to keep me alive, but still … I was touched. “Thank you.”
He nodded curtly. “Conah told you about your tulpa?”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I assumed you knew. I see that I was wrong.” He looked at the door behind me. “How is she?”
“Confused. Sad. I don’t know …”
He tucked in his chin, pondering this. “Tell her there is no shame in being different.”
The soft tone of his voice drew me closer and made me want to reach out and touch his hard jaw, to comfort him for some reason. The pulse at my jugular pounded hard, throbbing as if in need of something.
His gaze flicked to my throat and lingered on my pulse. Was he thinking about blood? Could he hear it rushing in my veins? Did he want it? Did Lilith’s descendants drink from other demons? What would it feel like to have his mouth on my neck, to have his fangs sink into me, and to have him suck on me? My breath came fast and shallow, and when he closed the distance between us, I backed up into the door. Shit, he was so close. I mean, we got close in training, but that usually involved blows and evasion and the odd moment of being pinned to a mat, but this was different. The air molecules between us were charged with an anticipation bordering on threat. I took shallow breaths and caught the scent of turpentine under his regular fresh aroma.
Azazel’s milky eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, close enough for our breath to mingle but not close enough for our bodies to touch.
“So many questions …” His voice was an abrasive rumble against my heightened senses.
Oh, fuck … How could he know what I was thinking?
He opened his eyes, and even though they were clouded, I got the impression he was looking into my soul, and the urge to touch him, to run my fingers down his cheek and brush my thumb across his bottom lip was a sudden, sharp ache in my chest. Would his mouth soften at my touch? Would it part on a sigh?
His gaze branded my mouth, making it tingle and swell in anticipation. “When we feed from a demon, it’s always sexual.” His voice dropped an octave, thrumming through me. “Always …”
I fisted my hands and pressed them to my thighs. Fuck, what was this? This wave of need, this poignant urge to press myself to his body and lick him? The mark on my chest throbbed in time to my pulse as if egging me to make the move. To turn my head to the side and offer him my neck. To offer him the wetness that was blooming between my thighs.
As if sensing how close I was to breaking an invisible boundary, Azazel took a step away from me.
“Which is why I never do.”
I was dead, barely clinging to the wall, and he was back to stone-cold, unaffected Azazel. There had to be a switch somewhere. Where was it, and where could I get one because my body was in meltdown now, cursing me for promising it a banging time and not delivering.
I licked my lips and blew out a breath. “Well … um, thank you for the information.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You should know that we have an agent tracking the Dread who attacked the Academy.” He blinked slowly. “I’ll keep you informed.”
He walked away.
I guess we were done then, but it was several seconds before I was able to peel myself off the door and slip into my room.
Cyril raised his head, flicking out his tongue. “If my brows could shoot up, they would,” he said. “You sssmell like you’re in heat.”
“I have no idea what just happened.”
“Maybe that mark of yours?” he suggested.
I rubbed the mark through the material of my shirt. “No, that’s a soulmate mark. Soulmates aren’t necessarily sexual partners.”
“But they can be.”
“Or I could just be horny after the massive adrenaline-fueled fight and all the revelations.”
“Who’s horny?” Cora sat up and stretched.
She looked better. Less drained, more … her.
“Did you have a nice nap?”
She looked down at the pillow she’d just been lying on. “I slept.” She smiled at me. “I think I even dreamed.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep.”
“I don’t. I mean …” She blinked slowly. “I go away sometimes …”
“Huh?”
“Sometimes, I’m not here. I’m somewhere else. A garden. It’s beautiful, and I feel safe there, but I don’t want to stay, and then I’m back here with you.” She frowned. “I thought it was a ghost thing. I don’t know … Like, I thought it was the Beyond calling me, but it’s not, because I’m not a ghost. There is no beyond for me. There’s only you.” Her shoulders tensed. “I don’t know if I want that. I don’t know if I like not having a choice any longer.”
My heart ached for her predicament. Maybe I could simplify it a little. “Do you love me?”
She waved a dismissive hand my way. “Pfft, course I do, you dick.”
“Are you happy, I mean, before you found out about the tulpa bollocks?”
She shook her head slightly. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve made friends in Senki, and I like hanging at the tavern. Bartok, the owner, even offered me a job the other day. I was actually thinking of taking him up on it and giving up Soul Savers, but I was worried I’d be forced back into the system and have to move on, and …” Her eyes widened in revelation. “And now I don’t. I’m not a ghost.”
I smiled at her. “You’re not dead, Cora. You’re alive. You’re a tulpa. You’re fucking alive, and there is no shame in being different.”
She took a moment to process that. “Fuck it. You’re right. I slept, and I dreamed. I’m alive.”
And she also looked more solid than she had when she’d lain down.
I nodded firmly. “And tomorrow night, we’re going out.”
“We are?” She looked surprised and then instantly suspicious. “You hate going out.”
“Not anymore. Not if we go out in the Underealm. You and me, down to Senki. We’re gonna hit the tavern and have a great time. Cyril, too.”
“You promised ratsss,” Cyril said, eyes glinting in anticipation.
“And rats you shall have.”
* * *
A full moon ran its silvery fingers over my skin as I lay in bed. It was late, and Cora and Cyril had retired to their room hours ago. Just as well I hadn’t pressed her to stay with me.
It was hot, too hot, and the fact that Azazel kept entering my thoughts didn’t help my discomfort. His rumbly voice, his warm breath on my cheek, his scent, and the way he’d branded me with a look.
I kicked off the sheets and pressed my thighs together to quell the ache that begged me to touch myself. I was swollen with need, and the only way I was going to get any sleep was to release the sweet tension that was gathering at my core.
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