"The hunter. In my blood." She clarifies, "The blood that pumps through me, that would pump through my kids... best case scenario, they'll be violent little boys, tracked down by my family and eventually brainwashed. And what if I have a daughter? Will she be cursed to be hunted and then bred and bled like cattle her entire life?"
"Isla, it doesn't have to be like that-"
"Yes, it does. I've spent every day since I found out what I am thinking about it.Thinking about what kind of person wouldbring life into this world, knowingwhat kind of future they would have, just because theywantkids.
"I want a normal life more thananything. I want to have kids that I can give a healthy, happy home. But I'm not capable of that. Ican't— can't give possible children the freedom to just be kids, or just be people. They'll behunted, Eamon. And I just... I can't do it. Iwon't.Kids deserve the love and endless possiblities that Charlie and Mike are offering their little girl. But I can't give someone that. Because of this stupid fucking curse in my body, the one thing I want would guarantee a miserable life for an innocent child whose only sin was being born to the wrong family."
My mind reels, trying to give her anything that mightbring her comfort, "You've got options. You could adopt."
"I could," she sighs. "But what life could I give them? What kind of life could I even give a partner?Hey, I love you so much I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, but ummm... my family is part of a massive cult that hunts down demons so we need to always be ready to drop everything and go into hiding."
Her harsh tone, the dejected sarcasm leaves me cold. This is nowhere near the first time she's thought about this. About the reality of her future.
"The right person would do that for you," I gently knock my shoulder against hers. "They'd be willing to face down any foe, fight any demons. Literal or figurative."
She sniffles again, a sad smile raising her lips as she looks up at me, "The right person would, but I'd never let them. I'd never take the possibility of a happy, free future from anybody, much less the love of my life."
Before I can say anything else, she shakes her head, gaze falling back to the floorin front ofher, "It's alright, Eamon.Really. I made the decision months ago to abandon whatever dreams I might have had for my life."
"You deserve a good life. You deserve to have every piece of the life you want to live." It's so cruel and unjust that this world would deny this woman anything, much less the one thing she's dreamed of her whole life.
"I don't think deserve has anything to do with it." She shrugs, "It's just rotten luck."
"There has to be something... some way you can have a- a family," the word tastes horrible on my tongue. As pitiful as it makes me, I don't want her to move on from us. Don't want to watch her fall in love with someone else or grow old with them. Above all else, I don't think I could stomach a world she doesn't exist in.
She scoffs, "You should be happy about this. You won't have to worry about me and my fucking bloodline making more work for you."
I close my eyesfor a brief moment, knowing this sudden change in her demeanoris only going toget worse for me.Isla can't have a single moment of vulnerability without immediately turning it into a competition of who has the highest walls, the strongest fortress built around themselves. If I thought what we were doing was a game, I was dead wrong. It's a brutal, life-altering, fight-to-the-death battle. One that neither of us has any chance of winning.
"Isla, come on. You don't think I'd willingly, happily, ensure you and your possibly progeny are safe?" Okay,happilyis a stretch. But I'd do it. I'd make damn sure she gets whatever life she wants to live.
A cruel, hateful laugh shakes out of the little woman beside me, "Give me a fucking break. We're not friends, Eamon."No, we are not."And we're not dating. We're just fucking. So don't pretend like you give a shit about me and the things I want. Younever have. You care about your goals, your fucking mission, and that's it. And if you get a few orgasms out of it along the way, hoorah for you."
"You can't honestly believe that." Her silence tells me that she does, in fact, believe it, no matter how blind she'd have to be to. But what can I say? I just told herall the thingsshe deserves, that I want her to live a mundane, normal life, even if that means I'm not part of it.
She stands on shaky legs,making her way intothe bathroom before I can stop her or argue. She turns on the shower, attempting to end the conversation and any hope I might have had of changing her mind.
We'renotfriends, no. And we're definitely not dating.
But there's no denying that we areconnected.All of this is connected somehow. Andshehas to understand that I do care. I wish I didn't, of course. Caring about mortals has only ever ended inmewishing I could tear this beating heart from my chest, but that's the price we pay for loving others.
Before I can change my mind, I storm after her, ripping the door open to find her red-faced and furious in the foggy mirror.
"Get. Out." she bites.
"I wasn't finished talking to you," I try to rein in my anger. "If you're going to accuse me of being a heartless bastard, you'd better have the fucking courage to stick around and face my rebuttal."
Her jaw drops, rage and embarrassment filling her features as sheturns to faceme. She doesn't move or speak, just stares at me, daring me to continue.
I takeina heavy breath before letting it out, "I need to tell you about Arthur." It's well past time she finds out about how I came into this world, how my first years on this earth shaped everything I've done over the last century.Her brows furrow fora second before they smooth out, her faceablankslateas she gestures me to go on.
"Can we not do this in the bathroom, Isla?" I beg.
"Fine," she huffs, turning off the shower and storming past me back into the main area of our suite. "They're going to be pissed about the bathroom door, you know."
"I'll pay for it," The money is the least of my concerns right now. "Sit."
She toddles over to the couch, arms folded angrily across her chest as she waits for me to tell her the horrors I hoped to keep to myself for the rest of my life. But she's still not seeing the entire picture here, and I need her to understand not just the Sanctum, but me. For reasons I still don't understand, I need her to knowevery part ofwho I am and why.
