Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
He didn’t even need to urge Shadow on. The tar-like creature lay down on the body and melted into it seamlessly, as if the skin had become less dense and allowed the liquidized soul to seep through.
No movement followed.
Gray gave a choked sigh and stood by the side of the bed, staring down at the lifeless lips that still had the same purplish color. “Shadow? Please, wake up,” he whispered, resting his hands next to him.
His heart stopped for a second when dense black spots emerged on Shadow’s forehead and cheeks, eventually followed by the rest of the featureless head that created a leather-like mask over the face. When Shadow spoke, it wasn’t in his human voice.
“The body won’t move.”
Gray’s hand moved to rest on Shadow’s chest as panic clutched at his throat. “Oh no. Oh fuck. It’s dead already.”
The shadowy form melted back into the body without another word. Would he be able to physically force the heart to beat? With what Shadow ate, Gray wasn’t sure if Shadow’s human form even contained normal organs. When he bled, it was with the substance his soul was made of, and his tears were black. Even his cum was. But maybe this was a good thing. A human would have been long dead at this point, but this creature? Maybe he still had a shot.
So Gray pulled the corpse to the floor, and did the only thing that came to his mind.
CPR.
He worked on autopilot, tipping back Shadow’s head to open the airways. Then, he placed his hands—no, just one hand!—in the middle of Shadow’s broad torso. He thrust it down in a familiar rhythm, counting to thirty as he prayed this would trigger something inside the cooling body. He didn’t think much when his lips formed a seal around Shadow’s, but the way the chest rose slightly under his elbow was a glimmer of hope.
Five seconds later, Gray was back at the heart massage, his gaze transfixed on the lifeless features that had so often appeared goofy or unreasonably scared of little things.
Memories jolted through his heart like a lightning bolt, bringing both clarity and agonizing pain. In a flash, he was back in the ambulance that came to collect Mike’s lifeless body from under that goddamn bridge. The paramedic had already shut Mike’s eyes, but there was nothing peaceful about bruises and torn skin on the cheeks. Mike’s face was the color of ash, unevenly rouged with dried blood and lips consumed by shadow.
In the moment when Gray had cupped the face of the man who’d been so central to his life the boundaries between them were sometimes vague, he knew his life was over. From then on, it could only be a skewed reflection of what it could have been with Mike still around. But Mike wouldn’t answer to his frantic pleading, cold as meat left overnight in the fridge.
Back in the dingy motel room, it was as if Gray’s blood had turned into liquid urgency pumping through his body at a rapid pace while he worked, desperate to keep alive this strange creature that was so devoted to him despite getting nothing in return.
He could’ve cried with joy at the gentle, barely-there breath that brushed over his cheek when he leaned in to blow air into Shadow’s lungs. The following exhale was more intense, followed by a loud gasp—proof that Gray wasn’t just hearing things. Shadow clutched his arm, shivering and looking around in panic the moment his eyes opened.
Gray laughed, pushing his arm under Shadow’s head and hugging him, high on the joy of having him back. “I’m here. Don’t be scared,” he said, light as if a weight had physically fallen from his heart.
But Shadow’s widening eyes pulled him right back to a reality where he couldn’t congratulate himself just yet.
Shadow’s teeth clattered as if they were about to break from the force behind it. “I’m so cold. I’m cold all over. Inside and out.” He took irregular gulps of air, and despite the oxygen once again coursing through his system, his skin still had a deathly shade.
Some days, Gray wondered if Mike had been cold before he died. Some nights in winter he walked around the clubhouse in just his pyjamas, desperate to grasp at the threads of the lost connection with his brother.
But Shadow was still here and didn’t need an offering of Gray’s pain.
Gray pulled him closer, rubbing the cool flesh, but he already knew it wasn’t enough. His first instinct was to cover them with comforters, but then his gaze lingered on the open bathroom. “Come. Under the water,” he said, dragging Shadow’s shuddering form up.
It was as if that bit of physical push put Shadow’s own muscles into motion. There wasn’t much energy in his shuddering body, but he put his arm over Gray’s shoulders and stumbled to the bathroom as if his legs were jointless tree trunks.