“We have until the full moon of the Shadow Dance. Which also happens to be Halloween.”
“Four more days,” I mutter.
My gut clenches, and for the first time in a long time, I feel damn helpless.
SEVENTEEN
Astra
After the serious talk died down, he actually stayed and told me to start a movie.
Donovan Falco is watching a movie with me.
Sure, he’s stiff and sitting in the corner of the little couch as if he’s afraid to even quickly graze a part of me. I’m curled up with the soft, fuzzy blanket he got me when I started to shiver about ten minutes ago. I love keeping the windows open because the fresh air carries the scent of the city into my room, but I do get cold. Icouldput on more clothes, but really, why should I? I’m perfectly comfortable in this tee and tiny lounge shorts. I don’t like feeling suffocated by clothes, especially when I’m lounging around or sleeping.
This is… nice.
My belly is full of food—that is fit for a toddler, apparently. I’m happy. I realize it’s been a long time since I felt this way. Donovan might have made fun of me for the things I like to eat, but he listened. He remembered. It would seem that such information came in handy when he needed to grovel.
Oh, and grovel he did.
It’s hard not to smile at the memory that isn’t even that old. Seeing him nervous and at a loss for words, but still trying his best, made me feel like a victorious queen. It may not have beenmy intention when I stormed out on him last night and refused to talk to him all day, but I can say I like the outcome.
I lock my jaw and pull my lips tight as I bite back a yawn. I didn’t sleep much last night because I was so worked up over the asshole beside me. My head is still spinning with how quickly the nice dinner took a nosedive at the end, crashing and burning around me so splendidly.
Now that I understand it from his end a little more, I can’t hate him. I’m still hurt. I still feel stupid for trusting him. The things he’d said when he didn’t think I could hear him felt like an arrow to the chest.
He’s only keeping me around because of the curse. He doesn’t actually want anything to do with me.
But what did I expect?
He was my first, but that doesn’t automatically equal love. Which is fine. I’m just now experiencing the world for the first time, and I have a lot of things I want to explore and figure out on my own.
I’m attracted to him, sure, but I don’t love him. I’m not completely sure how I feel about him beyond that. There is this pull I can’t explain, and probably don’t want to. I’ve tried to brush it off many times because it’s clear the man doesn’t feel the same way back. And that’s fine. Really. I don’t want this stupid curse thing to make either of us clingy in this situation. It’s already weird enough as it is.
I attempt to stifle another yawn, but this one breaks free, and my jaw cracks as I stretch it to the max.
I feel his gaze on me as my eyes water from the strong yawn. If I don’t look at him, maybe I don’t have to acknowledge how tired I really am. I want this moment. I want to enjoy the first movie we watch together. It might be our only movie together.
And, yeah, I realize how desperate that sounds. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m one love-sick puppy. I swear I’m not. I just think there’s more to this man, and I feel like I’m close to seeing it. It’s a hit that I can’t pass up.
He doesn’t say anything. I go on, pretending like I’m not two seconds away from passing out. It takes all my energy to keep my eyes open.
It’s a battle I don’t win.
I don’t know how long I’ve been looking at the back of my eyelids when I feel a shift, and then I’m floating through the air. I pry my eyes open so I can see his face. He’s carrying me to the bed. I moan because I can’t form words yet. I must have really been out.
“You can’t make those noises and expect me to walk out of this room,” he mutters so low it makes me think he didn’t really mean for me to hear. He doesn’t know I’m awake enough to know what’s going on.
His deep tone and the way I can feel the words rattle in his chest like a growl do things to me that I can’t ignore.
Being half-asleep is not the time to make good decisions.
But when did making good decisions get me anywhere?
Okay, fine. Making bad ones got me into a cursed mess and teetering on the verge of death, but who’s counting?
“Donovan,” I say as he lays me out on the bed.
