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“You know there are people who swim in the ocean in the middle of the winter.”
“Isn't that dangerous?” He stands still. The current tugging at him has no chance against an immortal.
“Probably. They do it to raise money for charity. They bring hot tubs and stuff so they can jump right in.” I pull my arms around myself, wishing I'd thought to bring a blanket or extra sweatshirt. Peter throws his jacket at me. I put it on. It's already absorbed some of his smell. Oh, heaven.
“Do you want to do it?” He sounds serious.
I back away from an oncoming wave, barely avoiding getting my feet soaked. “Uh, no. That's a crazy human thing to do.”
“I see.” I wasn't sure he did, but I let it go. “The moonlight is so beautiful on your hair.” And then he says something like that.
“I love you.” The words have a mind of their own. I am powerless to stop them, as if he's cast me under a spell. Most of the time I think he has. I shouldn't have said it.
He looks at me over his shoulder. “I adore you.”
It was hard for me to imagine he could say all those things he felt and have it not turn into love. Part of me wondered if there was a switch that he shut off. He would walk close to the edge and lean over, but never take that final leap.
I had this theory that it was a strange form of self-preservation. Except love was this thing that you couldn't plan, couldn't stop. It just happened. So I wasn't absolutely sure. What I was sure about was that I didn't want him to love me until we had broken the bind. It wasn't safe until then.
“I love that you adore me,” I whisper. I felt the need to tell him it was okay if he couldn't love me. Adoring me would have been enough. So would cherishing me. Such a little word, love. Only four letters. When re-arranged could also spell vole. Nothing threatening about voles. There's lots that's threatening about love.
“It is getting late,” Peter says when we've walked the length of the beach twice. I'm cold, but I've got Peter's jacket plus my own, so I'll live.
“I know. You said you'd have me back by 9:00. Nice job with that, by the way. Getting me in early is a good way to earn brownie points with my dad.” I bump him with my shoulder.
“I thought it would stand me in good stead.” We walk with our shoulders touching. I'd like to get closer, but I don't want to be too greedy.
“Well, I'm sure by the time you take me back, Mom will have talked him into being more in love with you than I am.”
“I do not adore your father.” This induces a laugh from me that shatters the calm of the night.
“I should hope not. By the way, that brings up an interesting question I've been thinking about. Are there any g*y noctali?” I'd never thought to ask before now.
“When we meet someone we are attracted to, gender is not so important. When you do not have to reproduce, something like that does not matter.” Well, what do you know about that?
“Have you ever...” I really hope he can fill in the blanks.
“No. You are the only person, noctalis or human, that I have ever wanted to be with in this existence.”
“I guess that's good to know.” I think about that for a moment. I guess when you take making babies out of the equation, being g*y or bisexual isn't so much of a big deal. Interesting. I wonder if noctali are as liberal with all their views.
“Not that I wouldn't be okay with it, if you had been with someone else.” I might have been weirded out if he was with a guy, but if I love him, I have to love all of him, so I'd get over it. That doesn't mean I'm not relieved that I don't have to.
“There has never been anyone but you.” My heart is melty-melty. I pull his arm over my shoulder and hug him around the waist.
“There never will be anyone but you,” I say.
I'd thought, that when we he first Claimed me that he would simply pop up in my life every few weeks for his blood donation and then he'd be on his way. Just an inconvenience, like going to the DMV or getting a flu shot.
I'd have to tell whoever I ended up being with about it and that would be awkward, but we'd get through it. I'd seen it all stretched out in front of me. This strange man that would visit me every two weeks like some kind of ghost. I'd have to live in an old house full of cobwebs and such. It would be all gothic and dark. Perhaps I'd write Poe or Dickinson-esque poetry.
Now I couldn't see that life where he was just there every now and then. Even if we broke the Claim, or I turned into a noctalis, I'd still want him as much as I do now. That, at least, I was sure of.
He kisses my forehead and I revel in the smooth brush of his skin.
“We should get you home.”
“I suppose.” He keeps his arm around me all the way to the the car and it strikes me that to anyone, we'd look like a normal young couple. A human couple.
“Good job, Mr. Human,” I say when were almost back to my house.
“Thank you. I tried my best.”
“What you're forgetting about is that I like the things that make you not human. I love all of you. Including the noctalis parts.” I stop and gaze up at him.
“I adore all of you. Especially the human parts.” That's it. I'm complete mush. I end up gazing adoringly at him all the way home. It's sick, really.
“When are you going to take the car back?”
“Viktor will drive it for me so I will not have to leave you.”
“Be sure you take the Prius back. Maybe he should leave them some money or something.”
“No need. They will not notice the few extra miles.” I sigh, giving up.
“Come on, let's see how Dad's tune has changed.” I lock my fingers with his. We're walking into the house together, whether Dad likes it or not. I push the door open, listening.
“We're back.” I have to fight the eerie tone from creeping into my voice. I haul Peter in behind me. He comes willingly, though.
“Did you have fun?” Mom's voice calls out. I hear a movie. Some romantic comedy. Mom's choice, I'd wager.
“Of course we did, there was pie. Pie solves everything,” I add to Peter.
“Everything?” He hasn't learned how to raise one eyebrow yet, but when he does it's going to be pretty awesome. Not that he isn't already.
“Almost everything.” I'm thinking about the binding promise. I don't think pie would be much help in that situation. This time I tow Peter behind me.
Dad looks at his watch.
“You're early.”
“By four minutes,” I say, beaming him a smile. He scowls for a second, but Mom pokes him and he nods his approval.
