A groan escaped me as I pulled on my arm. My shoulders were extended in an unnatural manner. Eyes shot open to confirm that both of my wrists were bound outward to hold me to the bed. Craning my neck, I noted a thin orange rope that ran out of sight, presumably under the mattress. The motion made me wince. I needed to right the damage he had done.

"Welcome back Ash."

Atticus was writing at his desk. After closing his journal he pushed his chair back and swiveled it on one leg to face me. Leaning back, he gestured towards me. "Now look what you made me do," he tsked.

Beyond confused, neck sore, and headache forming, I sighed and dropped back on the pillow. "Please, do explain how this is my fault," I asked.

The chair creaked as he rose from it to sit on the edge of the bed. Able to meet his eyes without overextending, I saw past the mischievous front to see uncertainty there.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you don't understand what's at stake here."

"Please," I begged. "Just tell me. What can you possibly have to hide from me? I've seen your soul. I've felt your soul. Just talk to me." Eyes pleading I involuntarily tried to reach for him and winced again.

Leaning forward, Atticus poked at my tender neck. I sucked a breath in through my teeth. "I need to reset it," I said, hopeful.

Bright blue eyes met mine. "Too bad." He crawled over me to flop down on what was available of his usual sleeping place, head resting on my arm like a pillow. "Tell me about the human you killed."

My mind stalled. "What?"

We laid together, staring up at the knotty pine boards, catching waning sunlight through the skylight. He didn't ask again or clarify. He waited.

Taking a deep breath, I thought about Bill.

Bill had been a handsome twenty-four-year-old construction worker. He was a talented artist and ate three sandwiches as a small part of his lunch every day. Boy, could that man pack away food. Bill had also been developing paranoid schizophrenia.

"He was mentally unstable," I started. "He got involved with a mother of three young children I had been shadowing. They really hit it off and he treated the children like his own. He moved in with them and it seemed like they were going to be good for each other." I paused, swallowing a lump in my throat.

"As his sickness developed unchecked, he became possessive and controlling and delusional." My breaths were becoming shaky as I relived my involvement.

Atticus rolled onto his side to face me. "And then what happened?" he asked encouragingly.

I turned my head to face him, ignoring the strain, "He was going to kill those children," I whispered. Tears streamed from my eyes as I held the demon's gaze. "He really believed it was for their own good. That they would all have this beautiful ascension. I couldn't stop him. He was so sure he was doing the right thing."

I was crying through my words. Rambling out my reasoning; my excuse. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "So I reached into his chest cavity while he slept and squeezed his heart." My tears were hot as my voice grew stronger. "I felt his life end so quietly and his soul passed right through me and it was like swimming through sludge."

We were silent and still. My face was wet from my tears but I had stopped crying. I leaned back, my neck becoming more and more bothersome.

This is temporary.

"And then you end up here." Atticus' words echoed through my head. I looked back to see that same waiting stare.

"What's your point?" I asked, trying to read his stoic features.

His lips didn't flinch as I continued to meet his gaze. A moment passed before I looked around to the desk, positioned to get the best sunlight. I thought back to the assortment of graphic novels and the smatterings of bachelor essentials.

Something clicked. "This is his house," I breathed. I looked out the skylight at a passing cloud. It must be late afternoon by now.

Atticus nodded.

"But I still don't get why you're here?" I turned to him again, groaning with the pain.

Lithe form scooching up against me, the devil nuzzled his face closer, bringing his lips to my ear. "Because Bill was my greatest work."

Frantically, I pulled against the restraints, whimpering as my body protested. "Untie me!" I bellowed.

"I will." Atticus slid over me again, this time stopping to straddle my hips. He regarded me coolly.

I thrashed against him as he took my face in his hands. "Don't touch me!"

He loomed over me to capture my eyes, tired, worn, and full of rage. The red glow he emitted pulled me in.

"No," I whispered as I felt his influence overtake me.

My breathing slowed to a steady rhythm as his hands loosened their hold on my face. Fingertips trailed my skin, brushing back my hair from where it had stuck to my tear-stained cheeks.

Atticus swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "I've been working towards this moment. I had so many lessons to teach you. And yet I'm fucking hesitating. " His piercing gaze drifted to my lips. "Just once more," he breathed.

His lips crashed onto me in a way that would have had me reciprocating if I wasn't both furious with him and hypnotized into stillness. Growling against me, he pulled back to meet my eyes. "Kiss me," he demanded.

I cringed internally as my lips moved against his, our tongues diving and dancing together in rhythm. He moaned before whipping his head back, breaking the kiss. I stared, waiting patiently.

The glow of his red eyes intensified as he spoke. "You will stop caring for me."

Emotionless, I told him, "You know you can't affect my heart."

Seething, he stared at me unblinkingly. "You will not touch me."

"I won't touch you," I said, automatically.

Jaw clenched, Atticus moved up to place a firm kiss on my forehead before locking eyes with me again. "You will feel the pain and suffering I've caused every time I feed from you."

"I will feel the pain and suffering you've caused when you feed from me."

As if the experience was exhaustive, the demon hovering over me exhaled, the blood red of his eyes fading away to uncover a brilliant blue. He flopped down next to me as the silence thickened until a sob escaped me. We laid there for a long moment as he listened to my sorrow.

Eventually, my tears ran dry once more and the long body beside me sat up to undo the knot holding my right wrist. Once that was done, I rolled over to undo the left myself. As soon as I was loose, I tumbled off the bed, struggling to get to my feet, before stumbling down the stairs and out the door.

I fell off the bottom step, crashing palms first onto the gravel. Laying prone, I looked up to see the 'phantom cat' watching me. It stood and stretched, eyeing me with its golden gaze. Cocking its head in my direction, it took a step forward.

Panic filled my heart as one last tear cascaded down my face. Was this salvation?

Strong hands wrapped around my upper arms to pull me to my feet and I watched as the furry black creature trotted off into the treeline.

"What?" I yelled, both enraged and relieved. "Isn't this what you want?" I asked, much softer.

Atticus dragged me back into the cabin and closed the door with his foot. Without pause, he continued hauling me over to the kitchen sink where he turned on the water and dunked my hands under the cold stream.

I looked up at him wondering if this was all a dream.

His eyes avoided mine as he ripped a couple of paper towels from the roll, thrusting them at me. I removed my hands from the icy rinse, turning off the tap, and began drying my chilled digits. It was then that I noticed the crimson spider-webbing across the dampened material as my bloodied palms marred its purity. Leaving me to finish cleaning myself up, Atticus retreated from the kitchen.

I stared at my fraying skin, pink and soft, nothing but a membrane over muscle and bone, and none of it mattered. This already decaying material was inconsequential compared to the soul harnessed on a completely different plane. This body was not just temporary but really nothing more than a shadow.

Uncaring towards the red that continued to seep out of my puckered flesh, I gripped my head and shifted hard, a pop echoing through my vertebrae. Exhaling shakily, my neck finally began to heal properly giving me an ironic sense of accomplishment.

Looking beyond the kitchen, I saw Atticus watching me from his chair. Finishing his drink, he stood to refill it as well as pour a second glass. He rejoined me to top it off with the cold tap before holding it out to me. I took it wordlessly, my hands involuntarily avoiding his, and sipped without prompt. A shudder passed through me reminding me of the sensitivity of this temporal form.

"Why did Death run from me?" I asked. With all the thoughts bombarding me, this was the only one I felt I could address without breaking down.

Atticus leaned against the counter nonchalantly. "It wasn't running from you." He let the silence envelope his statement.

"So, what? Your triumph scared it off?" My voice was more bitter than I intended, not to hurt his feelings, but to try to reign in my emotions. It was plausible that he wouldn't have the energy to control me again so soon but I really didn't want to take that risk.

I thought back to the first command he had tried. My heart clenched so I took a gulp of the liquid distraction.

Atticus straightened himself. "It's not happiness that pushes him away." His jaw tightened again as spoke. "It's the will to live."

Mouth agape, I balked. "Atticus, I can't even begin to grasp what-" I stopped. "Instead of manipulating me, why don't you just tell me what's really going on?"

"You're not going to win." Intense blue eyes captivated my vision. "You're falling prey to your own emotions and you're falling for me. Don't you see it?" His voice had grown soft. Pushing himself up from the counter, he deposited his glass before approaching me. "I've found purpose," he said, removing my drink to set it down beside his own. "You're going to need that in a minute." Giving me a small smile, he brushed back my dull hair and I understood where he was heading.

My heart rate spiked as he tilted my chin to fully claim my gaze. "To get you out of here in one piece you're going to need to hate me."

I immediately tried to back away. Given that I couldn't push off from him, I threw myself so hard I ended up on the floor. Light began to build behind my eyes but he was too fast. The demon descended on me swiftly and gracefully, pinning me to the pine boards beneath, a hand covering my eyes and teeth sinking into my neck, all in one swift motion.

Screaming, I was barely aware of the assault on my flesh as I felt a plethora of internal wounds plague me. My throat seized, the sensation of blood building there, thick and warm, clogging my airways. I choked on it feeling like it was streaming out my mouth and nose. Ribs cracking, long fingers reached inward, clawing at my lungs. Blood pooled there too causing my whole chest cavity to burn with immense pain.

My vision faded then, taking me to the safety of unconsciousness.

Back stiff, I awoke on the kitchen floor. With the lights off, the room was dark, mostly blocked from the warmth of the firelight. I sat slowly, jumping when I noticed Atticus sitting on the floor watching me.

Something deep in my guts squirmed causing panic to rise. I jumped to my feet and ran to the sink to dry heave, spitting up bile. The acid burned my throat, the familiar sensation compounding my discomfort. I filled a glass with water and took a long drink before sliding to my knees. I leaned my head against the cabinet door for a moment before resting on my butt, back to the counter to face the creature to blame for my condition.

I wanted to scream at him; to tell him to take this away. That I wouldn't let him feed from me- only I didn't know if I could stop him anymore. In reality, I don't think I ever could. I was always going to be a conquest for him. The type had shifted as his motivations evolved, but he had always been the one in control.

Frustration tears surfaced, making me even more annoyed. Would I ever stop crying?

"Don't worry," the demon assured me from the shadows, "It's back to 'whiskey and cynicism' for me."