The Skin of Him

A masterpiece doesn't know it's in a gallery. Sam Bell believes he is alone. He thinks the hollow ache in his chest is a simple need for connection. He thinks a man named Nick can fill the void. He is wrong. The void is me. For thirty-four lifetimes, I have been Sam's invisible curator. I am the ancient shadow that has pruned his history-burning away every friend, family, and lover who dared to touch what is mine.
I have spent eons polishing his soul into a masterpiece of refined suffering. As I move from the shadows into the light, the very foundations of reality begin to fracture. This is not just a conquest of one man's heart; it is a shift in the cosmic balance of epic proportions. Sam thinks he is finding a lover. He is actually finding his owner. The curation is complete. The skin is enough.