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Curious, I slide my finger along his horn. It’s rougher than it looks but also oddly smooth around the inward curve. A shiver wracks his body. I jolt backward, afraid I’ve woken him, but he remains asleep. My gaze continues down to his forehead, smooth skin, and lands on the glowing teardrop twinkling beneath his long-lashed eye.
He’s so innocent like this, so vulnerable and trusting. How can he be my enemy? If he said receiving the Guardian’s blessing changed their entire perspective, it must have been a horrible, confusing, and self-flagellating time. From being the hand of death for eons to suddenly understanding why their victims screamed in horror, what being called a monster actually meant... I bite my lip, hating how many times I tossed that word so carelessly.
Maybe they made mistakes while they figured things out.
I know I did.
He wakes with a sharp inhale through the nose, startling me.
“Willow.” His voice is husky from sleep. “What are you doing here?”
“Um, I?—”
Shit. Caught red-handed. His eyes flare at his wings. His otherness is gone in a flash. Now he can’t look at me. He shifts around the items on the table, organizing them into useless piles.
He’s embarrassed. Ashamed.
“Hey.” I perch on the table’s edge, stretch my legs, and cross my ankles. “You don’t need to hide yourself from me.”
His gaze snags on my bare thigh, then darts to the open book. He clears his throat and turns a page, but I’m sitting on it. I tilt my hips so he can slide the book out, but his cheeks flush bright red.
I fluster him.Me.
My fingers test the skin around my scars, reminding myself it’s not as bad as I thought.I’mnot so bad.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
“Nothing. Everything. All of it.”
A nervous laugh. “Okay.”
Agitated, he stares hard at his book for a few heartbeats, clenching his jaw. Finally, he lifts his gaze to mine and asks, “Do you still think I’m a monster?”
Silence.
Guilt stabs my heart.
“You saved my life, Fox,” I whisper. “You stopped me from drowning. I don’t think a monster is capable of that, do you?”
Gray eyes harden to steel as he declares, “I would drink every drop of water in existence if it meant saving you from drowning.”
It’s hard to breathe. I believe him. Fuck. What does that mean? More nervous laughter bubbles out of me. “Let’s hope it will never get to that.”
“So...” His lashes lower, all shy again. “Even after seeing me... you know, with the heart and the teeth and the, you know... and the—” He mimes some kind of action with clawed hands I can’t understand. “You know. That.”
My brows lift. “Are you talking about what you did to Milford?”
“He deserved it.” His mood darkens to dangerous levels. “Some of the shit I’ve seen him do in there is deplorable. Unforgivable. His existence has eaten at me for years. So I’m not sorry.”
He stares at me, waiting for something. A reprimand? A fight? Disgust?
“Milford wasn’t a good person, Fox.” My lips curve slightly at his obvious relief. “I’m not saying it’s okay to run around murdering anyone who pisses you off, but you wouldn’t have been in that position if it wasn’t for me.”
Anyone who takes advantage of drunk, vulnerable people is an asshole of the worst kind.
He plucks the edges of the book. “So... I shouldn’t go around murdering people who piss me off.”
I try not to laugh. He’s serious. As he contemplates the book like it holds the answers to life, I remember why I came here.
