Page 32 of Hated By the Gargoyle

“I will take my leave,” I rasped.

“What?”

“I must hunt. You will require sustenance, and I will provide for my wife.”

“O-okay.”

“You are clean now.”

I fled from the bathing pool and out of my den.

Perhaps if I flew, if I fought, if I killed, then my feelings would be set to rights. Perhaps I would no longer be overtaken by this confusion.

Perhaps the desire would abate, but even I knew it was a fruitless mission.

It had happened in an instant. It had caught me off guard. It had bled away at my hatred and rage and gripped me in its death grip of desire.

I wanted my wife when I had not wanted her before. Now I did and the world was shifting. Everything was changing.

I had been desperate to take her back. And now, I found, I was desperate to make her stay.

“Wife, I have returned with our food for the day.”

I fought back my smile, but it dominated my face as I turned to meet Qanek.

Over his shoulder, he sported a rope and several gutted and skinned beasts for our evening meal.

“Oh, those would go well in a stew.” I rose, dusting off my pants. “And it’ll be tasty with the vegetables you brought yesterday.”

Qanek made a face, one I interpreted as displeasure.

Qanek, I found out, hated vegetables. I knew this because he complained every time I served them on his plate.

Loudly.

Days had passed. Long days that felt more like weeks, though I couldn’t quite keep track of time from within the cave. Qanek and I had fallen into a new normal. A routine where we awkwardly worked around each other at first, not quite knowing what to do or say after spending so long screaming at each other, hurting each other’s feelings. Now, we had become more like roommates.

Friends.

Friends who wanted to fuck each other.

Just like I’d wanted.

Though Qanek still called me wife. I tried not to let it make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but couldn’t help it when that sensation filled me to the brim. He was still grumpy–that just felt like his personality–but the disdain we’d had for each other initially had melted away into something far more companionable.

I liked him. A lot.

Sometimes, I couldn’t help but feel like he liked me too. And a foolish part of me hoped that he’d forgotten all about Carlota, that he no longer wanted her and didn’t regret having me here.

He hadn’t spoken about her at all, and I could tell he really was making an effort to keep me taken care of.

Being around him had become as easy as breathing, and falling into this new routine actually made me feel wanted. Needed.

While we didn’t bicker like we had those first few days, I often found Qanek falling into the slow thrall of depression. I could tell when his memories began to haunt him, memories of battles and blood. That far away look in his eyes would become prominent, his breathing would grow heavy, and it took minutes, if not hours, to draw him back to the other side of darkness.

“What do you dream about?” I’d asked one night.

We’d been side by side in his nest, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not to touch, even as my fingers stretched, searching for his.