The Library

Lilith

I t has been a week since the incident at the club with that fucking bitch Ashley. Three weeks since Sebastian proposed. The weight of it, both physically and emotionally, hit me hard as I walk through downtown. I twist the ring around my finger, thinking about the way his mismatched eyes had gleamed when he slipped it onto my hand. His words still echoing in my mind: “This ring binds me to you with blood. Blood is more of an oath than any word will ever be.” He was right—this wasn’t just an ordinary engagement. It was a vow made with flesh and blood, a promise that we would belong to each other forever, in life and death.

I wanted to give him something just as powerful, something that would let him know that I was in this with him completely. I wanted to have a ring made for him, with my blood in it, binding us together fully. It feels like the only way to prove that I understand the weight of what we have, that I was willing to be marked by the same darkness that consumes him. No amount of blood, danger, or chaos could ever tear me away from Sebastian. And I wanted him to know that.

I had just picked up his ring from the jewelers, lost in thought, when something caught my eye—a cathedral, standing tall and hauntingly beautiful amidst the modern cityscape. It was an old building, the kind that looked like it had seen centuries pass by. The dark stone exterior was covered in creeping vines, its towering spires piercing the sky. Stained glass windows reflected the sunlight in fractured beams of color, casting shadows on the ground beneath my feet. The air around it felt thick, heavy, as if the weight of history and prayers long forgotten still lingered within its walls.

Something about the cathedral reminded me of Sebastian. It wasn’t just the dark, gothic beauty of the place—it was the sense of power and mystery that radiated from it. The same sense that surrounded him. Haunting, dangerous, and yet… impossibly captivating.

Drawn by some invisible force, I found myself walking toward the entrance, my footsteps echoing on the worn stone steps as I climbed them. I hadn’t been inside a church in years. Hell, I wasn’t the church-going type at all. But something about this place called to me, pulling me inside.

When I stepped through the heavy wooden doors, the scent of incense and aged wood hit me, wrapping around me like a shroud. The vast, open space was dimly lit by flickering candles, their flames casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. The vaulted ceiling stretched high above, lined with intricate carvings and ornate details that seemed almost too delicate for such a massive, imposing structure.

At the far end of the cathedral, a large cross hung above the altar, its presence dominating the room. Not a soul was in here except my own. I walked toward it slowly, my heels clicking against the marble floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent space. I wasn’t sure what I was doing here, or why I felt compelled to walk down the aisle as if something waited for me at the end.

The cross loomed larger the closer I got, and my mind drifted back to Sebastian, to something he had said to me once: “I’m the only god you’ll ever pray to. When you cry out my name, it’s like a prayer on your lips, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t wrong. In those moments, in the darkest corners of our passion, it was like praying. Not to any god I’d ever been taught about in my childhood, but to him. To the man who held my heart and soul in his hands.

I stopped in front of the cross, staring up at it, feeling a strange mix of emotions rise within me. What was I even doing here? I had never been one for prayer, never believed in anything that couldn’t be touched or seen. But now, standing here in this cathedral, with my ring heavy on my finger and Sebastian’s voice echoing in my mind, I felt… lost. Conflicted. Maybe I wasn’t as sure about everything as I wanted to be. As I stood there in the cathedral and under that cross that seems to pass so much judgment, something caught my eye. A rosary, left draped over one of the pews, its dark beads glinting faintly in the low light. I reached out, picking it up and holding the cool, polished beads between my fingers. The weight of it felt grounding somehow, even though I’d never been one to turn to religion. Yet, here I was, clutching the rosary like it could offer me some kind of clarity, some kind of answer in this whirlwind I’d found myself in.

Before I realized what I was doing, I sank to my knees, the cold marble pressing against my skin. My hands rested in my lap, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I closed my eyes and prayed. I didn’t even know who I was praying to—god, the universe, maybe even Sebastian. But I prayed for clarity, for strength, for something to guide me through the mess of emotions that had been swirling inside me since the moment he asked me to marry him. I prayed for a sign that Sebastian and this life was what I was made for.

I prayed for the courage to embrace this life fully, to give myself over to the love we shared, no matter how dark or dangerous it might be. I prayed for him, too—for his safety, for his soul, for whatever part of him still lingered in the shadows.

The silence of the cathedral pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I could feel the weight of everything I’d been carrying—the fear, the doubt, the love, and the lust—all of it mixing together in a chaotic swirl inside my chest.

And then, just as I felt myself sinking deeper into the uncertainty, a voice broke through the stillness, low and familiar, filled with dark amusement.

“… I thought you knew that when you cried out for a god to save you, I’d be the only one who answered, darling.”

I stiffened, my heart pounding as the sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Slowly, I turned my head, finding Sebastian standing behind me, his presence commanding and impossible to ignore. His eyes gleamed with that same possessive intensity I had come to crave, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he stared down at me, amusement dancing in his mismatched eyes.

“There’s only one way these beads will make you feel good, ,” He whispers, his voice a dark growl as the beads slip through his fingers, their smooth surface gliding against my skin, sending a shiver through me. “And it doesn’t involve praying. But you will be begging… begging for someone to save your soul.”

There was something haunting about the way he stood there, towering over me in this sacred place. He looked like he belonged here—like he was some dark god who has come to claim his rightful place. His green eye blazed with intensity, while the darker hue in his right eye seemed to pulse with something dangerous. Something I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to. As if it were a reflection of my own two worlds in one.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to find my voice. But all I could do was stare up at him, my heart thundering in my chest.

“Sebastian,” I whispered, feeling the weight of his gaze settle over me.

As I knelt there, staring up at Sebastian, the realization washed over me, sharp and clear. I do worship him. Not in the way people worship gods in churches like this, but in my own way—devoted, bound, consumed by him. He’s everything, and I’d tell him my sins while he sharpened his knives, offering myself up to him willingly, knowing he’d take everything I had and more.

He crouched down beside me, his fingers brushing over my cheek, sending a wave of heat through my body. His lips hovered just above mine as he whispered, “You don’t need clarity, . You need me.”

My breath hitched, caught somewhere between a prayer and a plea. “Sebastian, you followed me into a church?” I whispered, unsure if I should be surprised or thrilled by his presence here, in a place I thought he’d never set foot.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and wicked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, darling, don’t you know the Devil was an angel first?” His voice was smooth, laced with dark amusement as he stood, his presence towering over me like he was the true deity in this place.

My heart pounded in my chest as I looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t bound by the rules of this world or any other. Sebastian didn’t do churches, but I could feel the pull between us, stronger than anything I’d ever felt inside these walls.

He smirked again, his hand tilting my chin up slightly, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I don’t do churches, ,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “But I do you.”

My pulse quickened at the way his words slipped into me like a dark promise, a vow that I was his. Always his. There wasn’t a place in this world or the next that he wouldn’t follow me into—no altar, no cathedral, no throne higher than the one we shared together.