Poison Tongue (17 page)

The blond to our hair mirrored each other, but hers hung longer, glistening in the firelight. Wrinkles creased her eyes and mouth, making her look as kind as I knew her to be. She had a gentle face, easy and loving.

My gran and I used to sit in front of the fireplace just like that almost every night. She and my mama used to travel when it was just the two of them, seeing things, places, new people. But when Mama became pregnant with me, they thought it best to settle down somewhere.

Gran had always been a permanent fixture in our home. Before Gran died, I couldn’t have imagined a family without her. She was the one I’d always gone to when I thought Mama was being unfair to me, only to have Gran tell me how lucky I was to have a mama like her, and that I should be more thankful.

“Levi,” she’d said.

“Yes, Gran?”

“I need to tell you something very important. Will you pay attention?”

“Of course.” I’d always known that when Gran told someone something important, it was imperative that they paid attention. Not only because it was respectful, Mama said, but because Gran knew things about the world that no one else knew. She was a looking glass into the past, present, and future.

“One day you’ll fall in love with the devil. Lord, will you ever love him. And he will love you right back. But remember, Levi, loving a man with darkness on his soul can cause you to go mad. It could cause you to lose your own soul. And, sweetheart, I’m not sure if you’d be the same person without your soul.”

I thought about that, let it sink in deeply, the thought of a person losing their soul. I wondered to myself if they’d be an evil person, or vacant, like a leftover eggshell.

“Will I lose my soul, Gran?”

She looked up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell if she was thinking hard about the question, or about whether or not to tell me the answer.

Eventually she looked back down at me. “Maybe. But maybe the devil will be worth it.”

“How could the devil possibly be worth losing my soul over, Gran?”

She smiled at me kindly, the corners of her eyes scrunching as she did. “Ah, sweetheart. That’s love, ain’t it? It’s the one thing you’d throw almost everything into the pits for.”

I was too young to understand it then. I had no notion of romantic love or desire. I knew only the few things in my small world, and I knew by the way Gran looked at me that she knew how confused I was.

“You’ll remember this memory one day, Levi, when you need it most.”

“Are you sure?”

She laughed and wagged her finger at me. “Of course, I’m sure. I don’t make this up for fun.”

“What if I don’t know he’s the devil?”

“You’ll know. The devil has a soul blacker than tar. You’ll see it, and his dark, dark soul will love you so bad.”

I thought about this for a moment, long, hard. “What should I do, Gran? I don’t want to love someone full of darkness. I don’t want to lose my soul.”

She smiled at me sweetly, her expression warming, turned loving. “When the time comes, that’s a choice you’ll have to make.”

I STOOD
at the edge of the swamp, the wooden boards of the dock under my bare feet, the seemingly endless pools of water before me beckoning. Tall, dark trees shaped like looming figures watched me, outstretched their spindling arms toward me.

“How sweet it will be,” they murmured, “if you plunge into these depths. How badly we’ve missed you. Come to us, and we will never part again.”

Overhead hung a white, full moon. Reflective scratches of light raked the dark water’s surface.

In the distance between two trees stood a woman—a creature—the same as before. Her long, matted hair covered her face. The whiteness of her skin was startling. It decayed before me, falling from her body in chunks, splashing into the swamp waters. Her arms stretched toward me. The ragged cloth over her body was soaked in crimson. She screamed something—my name. No,
his
name.

She wanted me so badly to drop into the water. I wanted it too. I couldn’t breathe without it, couldn’t be complete without it.

I took a step off the edge of the dock, and then I was falling. The waters coated me, soaked me from the inside out, lined my organs, mixed with the blood in my veins.

Yes
, I tried to say, but I couldn’t because my throat was full of the dirt-filled water.

Everything was perfect….

Until it wasn’t.

Coldness whipped against my skin. My body ached. My heart cried out. The separation was painful, and my skin burned from it.

I opened my eyes, shaking violently, held still by big, strong hands, my body pressed against a hard chest.

Monroe stared down at me, a deep line between his brows, his expression panicked.

“Christ, Levi.” His voice shook.

The water was up to Monroe’s chest, and I was cradled in his arms. The swamp was covered in darkness. I couldn’t see or hear anything but the wild beating of my own heart and the heavy breath coming from Monroe.

My soaked clothing pressed a chill into my skin. Mud covered my arms, bare feet. I could feel twigs in my hair and the underlying sting of salty swamp water in my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I said, but my voice hitched.

Monroe didn’t respond, didn’t look at me. He waded through the water toward the edge of the swamp where the water met the shoreline. It wasn’t until we reached the back door of his house that he set me back down onto the ground. He yanked the door open, locked his fingers around my wrist, and pulled me inside.

I shook as we swiftly walked down the hallway. Monroe flicked on the bathroom light, went to the shower, and turned on the water. The bathroom soon filled with hot waves of steam.

“Get in,” he said, still not looking at me.

He stormed out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide-open. I stared into the vacant spot he’d stood in moments before. As my body began to stop shaking, I peeled my dirty clothing off. The metal rings on the shower bar clanked when I pulled back the thin curtain and stepped inside. Hot water beat against my naked body, warming me quickly.

I picked up a bar of soap from a dish on the side and lathered my body, scrubbing away the mud caked to my skin, the smell of the swamp, the feeling of muck against my skin. I tried my best to keep my eyes open, even as the spray of water splashed onto my face. I was too afraid of what I might do or see when I closed my eyes.

When I turned off the shower and stepped out, my clothing was gone, but on top of the counter sat a large, folded towel. I pulled it apart, hung it around my shoulders, wrapped it closed in the front to cover everything but my bare feet and head.

The door remained open. A warm light flickered in the hallway against the wood-paneled wall. I followed the warmth and light all the way to the living room.

Monroe sat on the couch across from the fireplace where a fire blazed in front of him. A pile of blankets and a pillow sat stacked neatly on the couch cushions. On the end table to his right was an open bottle of whiskey—half-gone—and a glass filled with amber-colored liquid.

When I stepped into the room, he didn’t look at me. He reached to his side, taking the glass of whiskey in his hand and putting it to his lips. His eyes focused on nothing but the fire. Red strokes of light swirled against his cool, reflective eyes.

I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, wanting to stay, needing to leave.

After a few painfully quiet moments, Monroe said, “I wish I could drain the entire fucking swamp.” He looked up at me then, his eyes meeting mine. “So that it wouldn’t make you come here.”

“I’m sorry that I’m here.” My voice was strong, even though it felt like my heart had cracked in two.

Monroe snorted, took a large swig out of his glass. “I bet you are, Levi. That damn swamp, this damn curse—they’re the only reason you’d ever come near me. I know that. And still, it hurts you.”

“I can’t help wanting it. There’s something so evil about it, so dark. It’s some sick obsession. Or maybe it’s love. I don’t even know if there’s a difference anymore.”

Monroe poured the whiskey into his glass. His gaze focused again on the crackling flames. “There’s a difference.”

I smiled sadly, looked down at my bare feet. “I’m afraid one of these nights you won’t be there to save me, that I’ll drown in that swamp.”

“That won’t happen.”

“It could. I’ve been close a few times. I dream of it, how it would feel.”

“It won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“I stay up every night and watch for you.” Another long sip of whiskey. “So I know it won’t happen. I’ll never let it happen.”

“What? Every night?”

“Every night.”

“Why?”

Monroe laughed then. Tossed his head back and laughed loudly enough for the sound to echo around the room, against the walls. He stared at the fire. I wished he would stare at me.

“Why?” he said rhetorically. “The man who can look into a person’s eyes and see their soul is asking me ‘why?’”

I said nothing.

“I heard you laugh, once,” Monroe said. “I don’t think you laugh too often, but I was there, standing right next to you, and I heard you laugh. I might’ve known it before then, but it was the first time I admitted it myself.” He paused for a moment, put the glass to his lips, tipped his head back, and let the liquid pour down his throat. “If you drown yourself in that swamp, Levi, I’ll follow right behind you. Not sure my life is worth a damn if I never get to hear that laugh again.”

I closed my eyes.

My gran had been right. I might give up my soul for the devil because why would anyone bother keeping their soul if there wasn’t anyone to love you for it?

I lied to myself, told myself it didn’t have to be anything but the touch, the pull, the release of the desire that continued to grow between us. It was a balloon that was too full, popping, the last thread in a well-worn bracelet finally snapping.

He didn’t seem to notice I’d moved between his knees and stood there, looking down at him. When his view of the fire was blocked, only then did he look up at me.

I hated when he looked at me. And I loved it too. The pits of his soul were so dark that when he looked at me, I could feel my body ache. I’d never questioned if my ability to see a person’s soul was a gift or a curse. But right then, as he stared up at me like that and I could see a glimmer of black scales and golden lights in his eyes, I knew it was a gift.

The wet towel made a quiet thud as I dropped it to the floor. Monroe’s eyes didn’t leave my face. I reached out slowly and pressed the tips of my fingers against the stubble along his jaw. He closed his eyes and whispered my name.

I crawled on top of him, my legs on the outsides of his thighs. Monroe wrapped his arms around me instantly. He pressed his palms against my shoulder blades and then slid his hands lower, slowly, down my back. The warmth of his hands and the warmth of the fire behind me felt like a soothing embrace.

I leaned forward and kissed him. It was tentative, sweet. The kiss was slow, unlike the one we’d previously shared. Where that kiss was hot and hungry, this kiss was reserved. His lips felt soft pressed against mine. When I put my hands against the hardness of his chest and pressed my tongue into his mouth, he groaned, pulled me closer, and deepened the kiss.

Goosebumps broke out all over my skin. My senses flew into overdrive. I could feel everything and knew nothing but where Monroe’s lips and tongue touched mine, his hands against my back.

“Levi,” he said quietly, pulling back. “You want this?”

When I opened my eyes, the room was dark except for the light at my back. The corners of the room were blacker than ever. The air was hot, humid, full of electricity and magic. “Yes. I want you.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Anything you’ll give me.”

I reached down and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. When I pulled it up, he lifted his arms. I tossed it off to the side and looked at him. His chest was hard, solid, his skin imperfect and scarred. White scars glistened in the firelight, along with a few red, angry marks. I reached out and touched one, running my finger across his skin, and felt him shiver.

Monroe leaned forward and began kissing my neck. He tongued the spot beneath my ear, then nipped and bit my skin as he worked his way down to my collarbone. He moved his hands down to my hips, squeezing, holding me still.

I tossed my head back, living for nothing but the feeling of his lips against my skin. When he dropped his head lower, taking one of my nipples into his mouth, biting gently, I moaned. Monroe made a noise deep in his throat that made my skin tingle.

I reached down between us, unlatching his belt, whipping it free from his jeans and tossing it to the ground. When I popped open the button fly of his jeans and dipped my hand inside, he pulled back from me and groaned.

“Under the couch,” Monroe said. His voice was strained. “There’s a box. Pull it out.”

Staying seated, I stretched out and reached under the couch. I grabbed a hold of the edge of a box and slid it out, set it next to us on the sofa. When I moved to open it and see what was inside, Monroe wrapped his hand around the amulet on my neck and tugged. When I looked at him, he grinned at me and yanked the necklace harder.

“Come here,” he said.

He kissed me again, immediately slipping his tongue into my mouth. I moaned, pressed my hands against his chest, loving the feeling of his bare skin against my own.

His erection strained against the soft denim of his jeans between my thighs. I rubbed my hand against him, relishing the sound of his deep groan. When I went to pull the waistband of his underwear down, Monroe loosened his grip on my hips and lifted himself enough to help me shove his jeans and underwear down his legs. His hands immediately returned to me after he eased his pants off.

Monroe reached to rummage in the box. At the same time, he began kissing my neck again, biting harder now, lapping at my sensitive skin after he bit. The popping sound of a lid could be heard somewhere far in the distance, but I couldn’t tell where. Eyes closed, I could focus on little but Monroe’s touches, the feeling of his hot cock pressed against my own between our bodies.