Amanda Bonilla - When Shadows Call

Another lick of shadowy heat reached out to caress me, and I gasped, in pleasure this time. My behavior was shameful at best. What would people think— No. Those were Henry’s words. Henry’s concerns. And he was dead.

“I will be lonely no more.” Azriel’s rich voice was soft in my ears as his shadows stroked my body. “And you are safe. Strong. You have become more than you ever were or could ever imagine. Isn’t that all you need to know?”

“No.” I’d meant the word to sound forceful but I was too used to weakness for it to sound anything but simpering. “Tell me, Azriel, what are you?”

“I am shadow,” he said.

I swayed as a second set of silky tendrils joined the first, swirling at the base of my neck and climbing up through the tangle of my hair against my scalp. A moan worked its way up through my throat, but I swallowed it down. I still held on to modesty and convention, no matter what Azriel’s touch evoked. “Shadow?” I murmured as I gripped the edges of the mattress for support. My bones had all but melted; it wouldn’t take much for me to topple over the edge of the bed, and wouldn’t that be charming?

“Shaede,” Azriel whispered.

I felt the weight of his body leave the mattress completely and I opened my eyes, afraid he’d left me. The silky vines of Azriel’s shadow retreated, slinking away from my body in a graceful, winding dance. He’d left his corporeal body completely behind, becoming nothing more than dark mist. The shadows retreated to the far side of the room and swirled in a violent cloud before coming together to create his solid form. But even so, as he stood before me, I couldn’t help but notice how his body quavered. Like a mirage. Or an illusion.

“Are you real?” I breathed.

“As real as you,” he said.

“What is Shaede?”

“The ancient Celts called us Scáth Siúlóir. Shadow Walkers. But our Fae forefather named us Shaede.”

“How can I possibly believe this?” I asked more to myself than Azriel. “You speak of magic and fairy tales. There is no magic in this world.”

“Then you deny what your eyes see?” Azriel asked. “What your body would tell you? There is magic in this world, Darian. And you are a part of it.”

“You changed me.” I’d intended my words as a question, but instead I made a cold, hard statement. I was no longer human. I felt that fact down to every cell that constructed my body, knew the truth of it in the depths of my soul.

“I needed a companion,” Azriel said, neither confirming nor denying my assertion.

“Are there others?”

His eyes narrowed shrewdly, but then his expression softened. “We are the last.”

“We?”

“Yes, Darian. You and I.”

I leaned back against the headboard and massaged my temples. I felt as though my skull would split in two. The room spun out of focus and beads of sweat dampened my skin. So warm. Heat stifled the air, too thick to breathe. I struggled to take oxygen into my lungs but my efforts brought only scorching agony. I was going to suffocate in this unfamiliar place with no one but a stranger to witness my death.

“Darian,” Azriel’s voice echoed in my ears as if he spoke from a long tunnel. “Don’t fight the change. You’re only making it harder on yourself. Let the shadows take you.”

“No!” I gasped, fear clenching my heart like a vise. My blood practically boiled in my veins, and I clawed at my dress, ripping the fabric. “Make it stop!” I writhed on the bed and wound my fists in the sheets to keep myself from tearing at my skin. “Please, Azriel.” Tears streaked a path down my cheeks and blurred my vision.

A balmy breeze stirred the long drapes as Azriel materialized at the balcony. He flung the doors wide open, and I welcomed the stirrings of a much cooler night than I was used to. Again, he left his physical body behind and when his heat met the cold air, it created a humid mist that clung to the atmosphere like building clouds. “Don’t be afraid,” Azriel said as his shadows came to rest at my side. “I told you, Darian, you no longer have any reason to fear.”

The feathery wisps of his incorporeal form wound around my body, and I calmed. All I’d known for the past five years was fear and uncertainty. How could I possibly let go?

“It’s as natural as breathing.” Even innocent words sounded sinful and seductive when Azriel spoke, and I suppressed a pleasant shudder. “Let go.” Shadows trickled up my arms, around my neck, and down my spine. His shadows. “Join me.”

“Yes.” The word had barely registered as a thought, I’d spoken it so softly, but I knew he heard me. I had no idea what to do or how to do it, but my body obeyed his command. I held my breath for the barest moment, kept as much of the pulsing heat in my body as I could stand. And then, as I exhaled a slow and languid breath, that heat melted right out of me.

Shadows permeated my skin, like the finest, softest silks joining with my flesh. The heat that had once been unbearable became once again the comforting warmth I’d known when I first awoke. I had no expectations, but even so, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust as I saw the world through a darkened haze. A veil of shadow. My bones melted, and my entire being became a gossamer thing.

The sensation sent an exhilarating thrill zinging through my soul.

“I am shadow,” I said as I tested my incorporeal form, weaving in and out and around the posts of the headboard.

“You are Shaede.” Azriel regained his corporeal form and stretched out on the bed. He looked magnificent. Sinewy muscles strained against the fine fabric of his shirt, and his dark hair shone in the lamplight. His black eyes followed the wisps and curling tendrils of my shadows with a sensual appreciation. He licked his full lips, and I couldn’t help but stare.

A wicked thought sparked in my mind, and I wondered if I was brave enough to follow through. But I’d been freed from convention. Released from the crippling vise of socialites, gossips, and an abusive, controlling husband. My prayers had finally been answered: I’d died and was born again. With a giddiness that almost made me laugh aloud, I let go of the thoughts that tethered me to respectability. Changing course, I unwound myself from the ornate bed posts and slithered across the sheets toward Azriel. A corner of his mouth lifted in . . . not quite a smile . . . more a satisfied smirk. The expression only strengthened my resolve, and I continued my course, winding up his arm like a thick, black ribbon.

“This is a dangerous game you play,” Azriel murmured as he tilted his head to one side. His invitation didn’t go unnoticed and I slid up past his jugular and around to the back of his neck. The fabric of his shirt rustled as I caressed the exposed flesh of his back, my shadow form tracing each defined muscle. “Have a care my dear,” he said. “Once you set foot on this path, there will be no turning back.”

I’d never touched a man in such a way. Somehow, the absence of my physical body protected me, allowed me to be brave and brazen. Henry never showed me an ounce of physical affection. Only in public had he seemed the doting husband, gracing me with a smile or offering his arm to me. At our wedding, he’d placed a dutiful kiss to my lips, and it had been the one and only time he would do so. For years I’d been nothing but an ornament. The excitement of this moment had no equal. I finally—after five long years of loveless marriage—felt like a woman.

“Perhaps I don’t want to turn back,” I said. My voice sounded the same in my shadow form, though the sensation of speaking was entirely different. I could not feel the reverberation of my voice in my throat or ears. And neither could I feel my lips and tongue form the words. Rather, they floated from me as if merely a thought, with no physical effort whatsoever.