Page 61 of Below the Shadow of the City

Maddox parts from my lips and gazes at me through heavily hooded eyes. “You know, I didn’t see you that first night we spoke.” The comment comes out of the blue, it breaks the quiet between us that we’d spent basking in the presence of one another. “I’d actually told myself not to look at you, so I wouldn’t find myself tempted. I’d obviously never dated a human before, and I actually worried that if I met one something…wrong…would overtake me.” I nod slowly, comforted that we’d had the shared experience of being mysterious strangers that night. It feels like a lifetime ago, now.

“It wasn’t until you brought me the cookies and gave me your number that I’d looked you up.” He continues. “There aren’t many Sigrids in Brooklyn, you know. And I was so angry at myself that I did because you stopped me in my tracks. You were so beautiful.”

“You’re being way too flattering, I'm nothing special—” he raises a hand to shut me up.

“I know you’ll deflect and claim it’s because I hadn’t met a human woman before, but I’d seen plenty of TV shows and movies. I have a ‘type’ by nature of existing alongside your world my entire life. You shattered my expectations of what a woman could be. What one could do to me. Some days I truly understand why my ancestors centuries ago wanted to keep women like you locked in towers, as barbaric as it was. They wanted to keep them so nobody else could have them. I want to keep you, Sigrid. I want you to be mine forever.”

“Mine” tastes a little sweeter now when he says it. I envision what being his would look like. It would be more nights in his bed, mornings in his kitchen, kissing on the couch, him beside me and inside me. His scent would never fade from me, his touch wouldn’t haunt me like a phantom. Everything that I lie awake thinking about on nights we’re apart would be well within reach.

It’s freeing, but claustrophobic, and my skin twitches with something I still haven’t figured out. Could this be what true love feels like?

“I want you to keep me,” I say quietly. His thumb hooks under my chin and he pulls my face towards his. My lips are swollen from kissing, and I probably am going to get rug burn from all this friction. None of that matters.

“You know, the pie is probably cool enough now,” I say after gently pulling away from him.

“Right, of course,” Maddox chuckles. “I get an appetizer, main course, and dessert tonight.” I hop from the bed and gather my clothes I’d tossed on the floor and he follows me out into the kitchen.

We eat in near silence, save for happy noises coming from Maddox as he eats, and eats. Half the pie is decimated in the time it takes for me to finish my slice. I haven’t had to bring leftovers to work because they disappear in less than a day.

“I have an idea,” I set my fork down on my plate. In the quiet, I’ve scribbled some notes to make improvements to the recipe. Maddox, unsurprisingly, had zero criticism, though I think he may have eaten his portion too quickly to even properly taste it.

He sets down his own fork, two thirds of the way through his fourth slice, “go on.”

“It sounds a little crazy, but do you want to go out? Above ground? See the city? We could⁠—”

He raises a palm to cut me off. “Sigrid, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve gone up there but I’ve never traveled that far above ground or gone somewhere so public.”

“It’s late, we can walk through alleyways, you’re used to alleyways. And it’s New York, people are unfazed by the unusual. If anyone spots you, you’d probably be, like, the fourth strangest thing they’d seen today.”

“Only fourth?” He asks with cheeky curiosity.

“I once saw a man on the subway sharing his fries with three rats. THREE. You’re more or less boring compared to that.”

I watch him ruminate on the idea for a few moments. “I don’t know,” he lowers his head. I see for the first time that he might hold some shame regarding what he is.

“Please? For me?” I want to bridge the gap between our worlds. Just once.

His eyes meet mine and he nods and suddenly it’s one in the morning and we’re walking towards Domino Park. He shortens his stride to keep pace with me, I’m holding his hand and pulling him down side streets and alleyways. I know he’s snuck above ground multiple times, I’d seen him up here, but he’s always moved in the shadows. He hasn’t stopped to take in this world he’s lived below his whole life.

Music spills out from basement bars, and we stop for a moment to listen. I glance over at him and see he’s nodding his head to the beat. Every neon sign flickering on a bar or string of Christmas lights wrapped around a brownstone makes his blue eyes sparkle. He’s so beautiful up here, wind blowing his fur and mane around. We don’t speak, we don’t necessarily need to. I tug on his hand and continue to lead.

We reach the park, there are a few people milling about. They keep to themselves as New Yorkers do. Before we round the corner and walk down to the waterfront I turn to him, “you should cover your eyes, I want to surprise you.”

He cocks his head to the side and raises a brow. I lift his hands to cover his eyes and rise up on my tiptoes and plant a kiss. He smiles and bites his lip, “lead the way, then.”

I wrap myself around his arm and walk him down the steps. New York’s skyline spreads out before us, skyscrapers dotted with yellow lights twinkle in their reflections on the water. I’ve seen this view dozens of times in the years I’ve lived here, never once have I grown tired of it. When New Yorkers say this is the greatest city in the world, this exact view is one of the reasons why.

“Okay, now,” I say, a thrum of excitement courses through me. He obliges, and is confronted with the view once he lowers his hands. For a moment, he’s completely silent, I worry that this isn’t what he’d expected. As I watch him as his mouth slowly opens, aghast with amazement.

He turns and looks at me as though I’m the source of magic myself. His eyes are damp, the realization hits that he’s never allowed himself to be seen above ground here. All his life this world I’ve taken for granted has existed and he’s never been able to participate in it fully.

“I’ve never seen the lights of Manhattan like this before,” He says quietly. “This is far more incredible than when I’ve driven through it.”

A chilly breeze rubs my nose raw and I settle deeper into Maddox’s embrace. He’s wearing a black hoodie, stretched tightly over his broad back and thick biceps. I’ve asked him too many times since we got to street level if he’s cold, and every time he’s made a joke about his built in winter coat. I didn’t believe him until he pulled me under his arm and wrapped it over my shoulder. The man is a veritable furnace. Being near him makes me no longer regret wearing my coat that was designed more for fashion over function.

I watch the way the moon shines on his horns, barely peeking out beneath his hood, and I wish to the universe that he didn’t have to remain hidden.

“If only we could do this all the time,” I say, hardly above a whisper. My head rests on his chest, he brushes a thumb over my cheek.