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“I always want your honesty.”
She whispered, “Everything looks smaller.”
I smiled. “That may be because you have changed from a small, fierce creature to a human. You will adjust to it quickly.”
“I don’t think I want to.”
I stopped moving. “What do you mean?”
She continued to look around the living area. “I enjoyed being a cat. It was simpler.” She stroked the material of the sofa as she passed and shuddered as I stood open-mouthed.
“Were you not originally human? You hated it even then?” I asked when I finally arranged my thoughts.
She paused and ducked her head before replying quietly. “I didn’t. Until I did. And then I was thankful I died.”
Thankful for death? What suffering caused a person to be thankful for the end of their life?
I worried then. Worried that telling her she was my soul pair would make her angry or upset. That it wouldn’t be a joyous discovery, but a cage. I worried that my selfishness and desire for her to stay human and to stay with me would ruin her, hurt her further.
I clenched my hand into a fist and took a deep breath. “You do not want to be human,” I repeated for clarification.
“That’s right.” She nodded vigorously.
“You will ask Daithi to turn you back into a cat?” I pressed.
She turned to face me. “Yes, but only after I help rescue Savida and stop Winnie from becoming a murderer.”
“I see.” I paused. “And you will miss nothing about being human? Talking? Food?”
“I may. But after living with everything dulled as a cat, it’s almost worse being human again and being pushed into so much sensation. It’s too much.” She sat on the sofa and bit her lip. I sensed there was more that she wasn’t saying.
I frowned, and my heart ached. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
“It is painful.”
I was a useless soul pair to not have noticed my other half was in pain throughout our entire interaction. I gritted my teeth and growled, “I’m sorry.”
She looked at me with a kind of worried confusion. “It isn’t your fault. Please don’t apologize.”
I offered her a small smile and moved to sit next to her on the sofa. “What did you enjoy most about being a cat?”
“Well, other than the smaller emotional range. I liked my tail. My glorious fur. And bothering Charlie.” She had a cheeky grin on her face, which hinted at the fierceness I had seen in her animal form.
“You like bothering Charlie?” I asked, echoing her smile.
I was not prepared for the rush of color that moved from her neck to her cheeks. She coughed. “Um, yes.”
I tilted my head curiously. “Because you dislike him and want him to suffer?”
“No!” she gasped.
“Because you like him and enjoy teasing him?” I pressed.
She stared open-mouthed, then her lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe,” she said reluctantly.
A strange mix of emotions hit me all at once. I was glad she liked Charlie. Charlie was my friend, and I didn’t want her being spiteful to him. I was also worried because her blush suggested she liked him as more than a friend.
She likes Charlie. Is attracted to him.
