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It feels good to be back among my things, surrounded by my stories. Even if I don’t open the books, they feel like armor. It is a pleasure unlike any other to take one of them and crawl into bed, losing myself in the troubles of another person who will be scared and then brave and then lose and then win.
Engrossed in a story, I’ve almost forgotten about my heinous actions when a sudden pounding at my front door makes me jump. It’s not the sound of knocking. It’s the sound of the latch being forced open. In an instant, I am regretting ever having come back here. I should have moved. I should have left the fucking city.
I find myself breathing very shallowly and pressing hard up against the mattress, trying to flatten myself as the door clicks open, and a tall figure stoops under the frame.
Motherfucker. I forgot Justice had broken in here before. I stay still. I guess at this point, I’m going to have to pretend I am asleep. Hopefully he spontaneously develops some awareness of how rude he is being and leaves.
Nope.
“There you are!” Justice exclaims loudly, as if he has some kind of right to wake me the fuck up in my own apartment. I’m glad he’s being an asshole. That’s going to make this easier for both of us.
I open my eyes. He is standing over me, bright red eyes flaring with emotion, shirtless torso and all four arms rippling with irritated muscularity. In my guilt, I had forgotten how hot he was.
“I have been looking for you everywhere! I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
I’m only just hearing the lecture through an absolute whirlwind of shame.
“I can take care of myself,” I tell him. “I don’t need you hovering about, breaking into my apartment.”
“What?” He seems confused. “You left my place a week ago, and I haven’t seen you since. I also haven’t seen Rage. What happened?”
Shit. He’s put two and two together.
I get up out of bed and walk to my front door. He follows me out into the hall, at which point I dart back inside and close the door on him.
Two big hands wrap around the edge of the door and stop it from closing. He pushes his way into my apartment, stooping under the door frame to allow his big head and antennae to get in.
“What is going on with you?”
“Uh, my dude, we are strangers to one another. We might have had sex a couple of times, but you don’t know me, so don’t act like you do.”
He scowls. “Before I beat you, I’m going to give you one last chance to explain what this attitude is about. Something has happened. I thought it had happened to you. I’m very glad it hasn’t. I thought Rage had found you.”
“Beat me? No, man. We’re done. Trust me. We are done.”
“Trust me, we are not,” he growls. “There’s something between us. I missed you. Are you telling me you didn’t miss me?”
“Did I come find you?”
I hate being a bitch, but being a bitch is going to make this easier. Maybe. I don’t know. I know that the impulse I am having to throw myself into his arms and beg for his forgiveness has to be resisted at all costs. I don’t deserve his kindness or his care. I’ve got to get rid of him. Now.
“Get the fuck outta here,” I say.
“No,” he replies. “There is something wrong with you.”
“Really, the freak with the wings and the antennae thinks there’s something wrong with me?”
That was cruel. He’ll leave now, for sure.
But he doesn’t. He picks me up with all four hands and carries me back to my bed.
“You and I don’t really know one another completely yet,” he says. “But I know enough about you to tell when you’re lying, and every word out of your mouth right now is some kind of lie.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you.”
“No,” he says. “You’re not. You’re going to have your underwear taken down and your bottom spanked until you tell me what’s happening.”
He makes good on that threat, sitting down on my bed and sweeping me over his powerful thigh. My pajamas give up the fight without issue, retreating down to my knees with a sweep of his hand.
