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“Was…any…of…it…real?” I ask, each word punctuated by a sharp, broken breath. “This thing between us.”
Sterling presses his lips to mine and I lean into him, that double beat happening in my chest again.
“All of it. I love spending time with you – working on the farm, going for walks, sitting in the bakery. I love how you smell and how you taste. I love your strangely flavoured scones and how much you adore your awful cat. And I love your farm and your goats. And I love that you sound terrible when you sing.” I choke on a laugh as he continues. “I love that you pretend you don’t believe in things, yet you question them all the time, and I love that you are strong and brave.” He kisses me again. “I love you Caspian, my sweet, sweet human.”
His words wrap around me like a warm hug, settling in the deep parts of me that have always felt unloveable, too damaged, too different. Yet the anger and hurt persists.
I press both palms to his chest and push until he gets the hint and breaks our connection, stepping back and giving me room to breathe.
“I want to believe you,” I say over the lump in my throat. “Really, I do, but I need space to process all this. Please go.”
Please don’t go.
“Caspian.”
I look at the clock, shaking my head. “Time’s up.”
“Caspian. Please.” His voice cracks on my name, and it takes every ounce of my waning energy to walk away.
I slide off the counter.
“I want to be alone.” The words are hollow, bouncing around my kitchen like an unwelcome guest. My heart screams that they’re a lie. And maybe they are. But everything that has happened tonight from the incredible sex, to the revelation that he is a monster I thought belonged only in legends, to the confession that he loves me, is a lot to process.
Sterling reaches out a hand, his fingertips pressing to my wrist, heat bleeding into me. His touch is grounding, firm, a promise said without words.
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say, stepping out of his reach and turning my back on him. I find Bagel in the entry hall and I scoop her up, holding her tightly as I make my way to my room. I put her on the bed, but she jumps off and curls up on the t-shirt I left lying on the bedroom floor. It had been one of Pops’ that I took from his drawer. She nuzzles into it like she misses him, even though she never knew him, and I wonder briefly if it is possible to miss something you never knew.
If I push Sterling away, would I miss the things we could have been?
I slump onto the bed, onto sheets that smell like sex and desire. Like Sterling and me. Like us.
It makes my chest ache and the tears fall faster, and I bury my head under the pillow and close my eyes.
TWENTY-SIX
CASPIAN
Iwoke before my alarm clock, but have been staring at the ceiling ever since. Shadows dance across the cracked paint, the trees outside my window bending in the wind. It howls through the ancient roof tiles and shakes the guttering running down the side of the house. I track each noise, matching it to what I think it could be, noting nothing that doesn’t fit, all the while telling myself I’m not listening for him.
Next to me, Bagel stretches out, her stomach on display and not a care in the world. Everything she believed is exactly the same as when she woke up yesterday morning, and all the mornings before.
“You knew,” I say, rubbing her soft fur. “You knew what he was. It’s why you’re so fearful of him.” She purrs, the vibrations moving through my fingers. “I should be afraid, shouldn’t I? He’s a monster. Something that I spent twenty-seven years believing was nothing but a fairytale. How do I move on from and accept that?”
She doesn’t answer because she’s a cat, and unlike the man who stole my heart, some creatures are what they appear to be.
“I don’t know what to do, Bagel. Pops would have known.”
Since the day I met Sterling, I knew deep in my gut that Pops would have liked him. Maybe he would have guessed right away what Sterling was. Maybe he would have been able to help me understand. He always said he had a sixth sense, and while I spent my childhood believing he was just a man who liked elaborate, far-fetched stories, now I understand he was right all along.
“Why’d you leave me, Pops?” I ask the empty room. “I miss you.”
I close my eyes, then open them again, blinking away the tears, and then I roll over and drag myself out of bed and strip off my clothing. My thighs are covered in bite marks, and my ass aches in a pleasant way that serves as a reminder of the night before. I can’t help thinking of Sterling as I pull on a clean t-shirt and joggers.
In such a short time, he’s worked his way into the very fabric of my heart. I close my eyes and let the image of him come to me. His smile. His gentle words. The way he kissed me and touched me. How he said he loves me. And then I think about the parts of him I wasn’t expecting. The tail and the claws. The sharp teeth and glowing scales. The gills on the side of his neck. I wait for the fear to hit but it doesn’t come. Instead, I am filled with longing and a need to be near him so strong it makes my knees weak.
I rub at my chest, right over my heart, where it feels like an elastic band is pulling taut. I don’t understand it, but the more I focus on it, the more I hear that word in my head. Mate. Mate. Mate.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull on fluffy socks, then stand and throw on an oversized plaid shirt before heading down the stairs with Bagel hot on my heels. I pause as I enter the kitchen, half expecting Sterling to be here, but knowing by the silence alone that he’s not.
