It was… I turn away so Layden won’t see the stupid tears suddenly flooding my cheeks. I breathe in hard, a little shocked. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Or let myself think about Mom and Dad.
When I was a kid, so wrapped up in their love, it was easy to believe…
I shake my head and swallow my tears. Foolish.
That time was just a dream. I’m awake now and know the truth, even if it’s nice to allow this creature in front of me to believe the lie again for a little while. The lie that I’m an innocent creature, capable of good.
I know better now.
“There’s no more meat,” I pronounce because I need to be out of this little house with its cozy, friendly softness and the man with the kind eyes. “I’m going hunting and will be back later.”
Layden half turns over, and I see concern in his eyes. “Is that safe?”
I laugh. “Believe me, I’m the scariest predator in these woods.”
His eyes narrow again, head tilting slightly. I see the question in his eyes and slam out the door before he can ask it.
Half an hour later, I watch the red liquid puddle on the forest floor from the buck I’ve run down and strung up, bowing my head.
Memories of blood are the oldest ones I possess. Before I truly even understood. When the salty metallic bite was all I had to hold onto in the darkness. I clung to it like a desperate, wild thing. Which was all I was.
I gut the buck ruthlessly, wondering if I’m more animal than this majestic being ever was. I yank out its still warm heart, so recently beating, and wonder if I should leave Layden’s side so that I don’t become a curse to him like I have been to everyone else in my life.
I am not good. I am not kind.
Sure, in the dark, shadowed beginnings, I didn’t understand what all the blood would cost. I wanted the warmth. I wanted life more than anything. But what good are excuses?
I look at the buck, eyes dead and lifeless. Instead, I have become this. I toss the heart to the ground and finish gutting the animal and preparing the meat.
I already know that I’ll go back to Layden.
Because I’m as selfish as always. My cold, miserable existence has always felt like a constant punishment for ever dreaming of better.
Yet here I am, still hoping, still dreaming.
Still a fool.
I head back for the cabin, hauling the huge carcass behind me.
FOUR
PHOENIX
I dozedoff last night in the plump, worn chair that looked like it was covered more in blankets than any of the original upholstery, which had been worn down to bare seams long ago. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but I wasn’t about to climb in beside my patient, and the dirt floor looked a little too hard-packed for my liking.
Something startles me awake and I leap to my feet, all senses on alert. Immediately, I look toward the bed, but Layden’s not there.
Then I take in the noise that woke me. Outside the window, there’s a rhythmicthwack, thwack, thwackingnoise.
Frowning, I get low and move in a crouch for the window and then stand full to my feet when I see Layden, shirtless in the morning fog that settles over the dewy ground, chopping wood.
And he’s, uh… different, to say the least.
It’s as if some magical transformation has taken over him.
He’s not skin and bones anymore.
Instead, as he lifts the ax high overhead, large muscles bulge as he swings down with incredible force, splitting a huge log he’s got set up on an even bigger stump. My eyes travel down his body. His pecs are round and firm, leading to a six-pack of abs. The muscles in his shoulders ripple in the dancing morning light, but I also catch a glimpse of the stumps still sticking out his back—unchanged amidst the rest of his transformation. His hot skin steams as he stands up after splitting another log into pieces.
