I try pushing against his chest, only because I know that’s what I should be doing. Beneath my hands are nothing but fabric and his corded muscle, requiring no further effort than existence to fight against my fruitless attempts.

“You aren’t real.” None of this is real. This is all just a bad dream. Any second I will wake up to the sound of the alarm and this will all be over. I’ll be back to only knowing the sound of his voice through ominous whispers and the fantasies that play out in my head when I read his more sinful letters.

His hooded head moves down until the soft material is pressed against my face. “You cannot run from me, because I will catch you. You cannot hide from me, because I will find you. I have smelt your scent, let it linger on my skin, you are imprinted in my memory. You are mine, Lilith. There is nothing you can do to escape me.”

I shake my head as he pulls back and flushes my body against his, all hardened and warm like a summer’s day, yet cold like winter’s first frost. Each syllable from his lips is a rope winding tighter and tighter around me, holding me in place. I don’t want to leave. This feels like the one thing I have wanted most: peace.

“Who are you?” I whimper, wanting to feel more than just his muscles beneath the cloak. I want to travel the length of his jaw to feel if he has stubble or a beard. I want to know if gray eyes will stare back at me, or maybe brown or blue?

I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t be doing this, not when Evan is asleep on the other side of town. Who is this hooded man? The man that came to me at the accident, who stood next to my bed in the hospital when I should have been taking my last breath, who sends me letters and brings me gifts, even when I am at my lowest.

“I am anyone you want me to be.” His hand slithers down from my hair, to the valley of my spine, and settles at the soft curve of my waist. The move feels so natural, like he has done this a thousand times and we are just lovers reuniting once more. “I shall give you a hint: Just as a ship comes to harbor, our meeting is inevitable, my darling Lilith. At the corner of the earth, I will wait for the ship to come. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I will be there to greet you and all the souls that will come after.”

The Faceless Man. The Nameless Man. “Why can’t you just tell me your name?”

He cocks his head to the side as if studying me. But I don’t feel his scrutinizing gaze, only one of sweet adoration that sends pools of lava to my core. He pulls me even closer, just when I thought it wasn’t possible.

“You know my name, my night monster.” He cups my face in his hand and lowers his head to mine, but all I see beneath the hood is darkness.

“Why do you keep calling me that? Do you think I’m a monster or something?” I don’t mean to sound as needy as I do, but the thought that I lived at Dahlia’s expense is killing me inside.

“Oh Lilith, my sweet, sweet flower.” I can’t see it, but I know that he’s smiling down at me. “Lilith, Adam’s first wife, was banished from the garden of evil for disobeying the orders of men. Ask who Lilith is, and you will receive a different answer: A she-demon, a spirit that brings death, a creature of the night, the deadly sin of lust, a night monster. But if you ask me of my Lilith? I will tell you that she is everything. Every gust of wind, every fallen leaf, each drop of rain.”

“But why?” I squeak, probably looking as pathetic as I sound. I want so much from a man I don’t even know.

Tingles cascade over my skin with his soft chuckle. “You have asked many questions, my dear lily. It is my turn to ask just one.”

My breath catches with anticipation as my body melts into his wandering touch. His finger runs over my lips once more and stops.

“Tell me, do you taste as good as you look?”

My eyes widen as his finger parts my lips, and I open my mouth on instinct, tasting the sea on his skin. Without another thought, I close my lips around him, tongue caressing his finger, and he shudders beneath my hands as a low growl builds in his chest.

He pulls his finger out and I’m shocked at the feeling of loss that strikes through my heart. Fingers disappear into the shadows of his hood, tasting me just as he said he would.

“Fucking intoxicating,” he rasps.

Unsure what to say, I stare at my fingers pressed against his chest and mutter, “Thank you.”

He makes a sound of approval. “Oh, my precious flower. The fates have truly made perfection.” He tips my chin up to look at him. “I cherish our time together. Soon, a lifetime will become an eternity. But for now, it is time for you to wake up.” He swallows my gasp when soft lips press against my own. “I will see you again, little love.”

Chapter three

Lilith

My lips still tingle from the feel of his, my waist still burns from his commanding touch. But it was just in my head.

I’m not crazy. It was just a vivid dream.

A very vivid dream. One that I coincidentally remembered for once.

I kept saying that to myself, over and over this morning, staring at the reflection in the mirror, and once again mourning the Lili that died that day. I can’t talk to Dr. Mallory about all the things the Faceless Man said to me, the way it made me want to squeeze my thighs together with the thought that he’ll be left with the taste of me lingering on his skin. But it was a dream; I just wish it wasn’t.

All Dr. Mallory would do is change my medication or up the dosage, but I can’t afford to see her again. Going to her three weeks in a row is not something my bank account is equipped for.

I can’t even afford to replace the microwaved pizza from last night. I just have to hope that Brit, in her good graces, might let me take home any leftovers though there usually aren’t any on a weekend. If I take the medication as soon as I get home, I’ll be too sleepy to be hungry. That is the cheapest idea.

The drive to Evan’s place feels longer than usual, my mind reeling too much to hide in the recesses of my ‘safe space’.

I start a little later on Saturdays and last night Evan texted to complain about his bad headache, meaning that he won’t be able to do our Saturday breakfast—not that either of us has anything more than toast to offer the other. It’s not like we have had breakfast on Saturdays often anymore.

Evan lives in a house in the student area of town. It’s within walking distance of campus, even though his job involves building houses with his hands and not paying someone else to read a book.

The weatherboards of the house could use some cleaning, but otherwise the place is as you would expect from student housing. A couple of empty beer bottles are piled on the porch, a makeshift flower pot made from broken tires along the driveway, and the floral netting in the kitchen has a tear in it that is visible from the street.

One of the flatmates, Madeline, usually makes sure that Evan and Tom keep the flat nice and reasonably tidy, so at least it doesn’t feel like I have to wipe my feet just to go outside.

I help myself into the property, trying to keep my movements as silent as possible. Madeline works dinner and bar shifts at a nearby restaurant, while Tom does security at night over at the university. Usually, I won’t see them come out of their rooms until the afternoon.

Madeline’s boyfriend, Nate, is pouring himself coffee as I walk in. The pitiful look he gives me makes my skin crawl and still I force myself to smile at him, but he looks away like the sight of me hurts him.

I follow the sound of hushed murmurings to the back of the house, where I find Evan and his strands of golden hair that shimmer in the sun and the smell of weed heavy in the air. Evan never used to smoke, but the accident was hard on him too. Dahlia’s boyfriend was one of his closest friends.