Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,45
became known, and before long, we learned that all these ancient deities were just supes that envisioned themselves as gods at some point in history.
Some still clung to faith, per se, but it had changed. They hoped if they worshipped these beings of magic, that perhaps they’d be spared from the cost.
Why did it always come down to the price?
“This was where you changed, was it not?” Ronan asked me, pulling me from my thoughts.
“That’s a mild way to describe the life-altering event that occurred beneath these lifeless eyes,” I said, both greedily and guiltily taking in every feature of the cathedral, including the portrait of Jesus I’d stared at when it happened. I had prayed then. Only a different god answered.
“How would you rather I say it?”
“I’d rather we didn’t speak of it at all,” I replied firmly.
He stepped into my periphery, still wearing a suit. His black hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail. Those swirling mists of chaos focused on me.
“Then why did you bring us here?” he asked softly.
“I didn’t bring us anywhere,” I replied, voice hard.
“On the contrary, this is your dream. When you sleep, the blood-exchange pulls me to you. I have no control over the location. So I ask you again, Atma, why did you bring us here if you’d rather we not speak of it?”
My mouth felt dry as I said, “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are.”
He said it with conviction, as if he stated that the sky was blue and the mountains tall. If I were any less obstinate, I might have crumbled.
But I was Piper Fallon.
I did not crumble, buckle, or bend. Certainly not for a demon.
“Do you have to come to me when I sleep?” I asked him, changing directions. If he could tell I was deflecting, he didn’t say anything.
“No.”
“Then why do you?”
He moved directly in front of me, and I pointedly didn’t look him in the face, instead opting to stare at his chest. “You know why.”
I swallowed hard. “Enlighten me.”
He leaned forward, lips brushing the very edge of my ear ever so softly. “Because I want to.”
“But why?” I asked in a breath. “Why come to me at all if you can’t have me? Why chase? You believe me to be your atma, but I reject that. I reject you. So why do you continue?”
Two fingers curved under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. I didn’t want to look into his eyes. To stare at perfection so beautiful it hurt. The kind of beauty he had wasn’t soft or kind. It was brutal. Honest. Cutting.
“Do you know what an atma is?” he asked me.
“A soulmate.”
His full lips curved upward, and my heart stuttered. “Do you know what a soul is?”
“The concept that our true form is inside us somehow, but it isn’t a physical being,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Magic,” he said simply. “Demons are beings made of magic. Once we were angels, but over time all magic corrupts. It slowly drives us to insanity. To darkness. Unless we find and bond with our atma.” He brought his thumb down, sweeping it across my bottom lip. His pupils dilated at the movement, and a shudder ran through me. “I have waited thousands of years for you. I don’t plan to wait another second. So if the only way I can see you right now is in your sleep, then I will. I’ll take any time I can get, but one day you will be mine in every sense of the word.”
He was staring at my lips too much. The tension was too thick. My throat felt full, and I swallowed hard, then looked away.
Just like last time, he let me. But he didn’t move.
“That’s a beautiful story, really, so touching,” I said sarcastically. “There’s only one problem with it. I’m not a demon.”
“You weren’t born one. That doesn’t mean you aren’t one.” One of his hands wrapped around my forearm. The slight pressure of his fingers burned through me. My heart sped up.
“I stole the magic from one, that’s not the same—”
“Actually,” he said, “it is. The magic and the soul are the same. Your magic calls to me, just as mine calls to you. Doesn’t it, Atma?” His fingers on my arm loosened, sweeping up and over my shoulder, past my collarbone, to my neck.
“I told you not to call me that,” I snapped at him, trying to step away. His fingers dipped inside the turtleneck I