His lips part, giving me a good view of his fangs. With one bite, he could tear my throat.
“Griffin,” I repeat. “It’s over. You killed them all, and the prisoners escaped. You can relax now. We can go back to theBeetle.”
When he fails to react, I raise my hand to touch him. I don’t think we’ve ever touched voluntarily, not since the day he cut my ties to free me. I don’t know if my head on his shoulder the other night counts. That felt like a secret touch, unexpected and full of promises.
I wait for him to back away from me, but he doesn’t. I put my hand over his chest. It’s hot, as if he sat too long near a fire. His heart beats strongly, like a war drum.
“Griffin. Let’s go home,” I say. Even though I have no right to call it home.
I reach for his face with my right hand, and he leans into my touch. I let out a shaky breath. It’s working; his horns are getting smaller, and his red scales are receding. His nostrils flare, and he lowers his forehead to mine. The touch feels so intimate. My heart beats against my rib cage like a bird wanting to escape, mirroring his own. Griffin smells like burned things and blood, but I don’t care. He’s shaking under my hands, turning back into the man I know. His eyes, too, slowly morph into their usual slits. They focus on me.
“Helios,” he whispers. His breath caresses my face.
“Yes, I’m here.”
Our lips are so close now that we share the same oxygen. I don’t know who makes the first move—him or me. But it doesn’t matter as we collide. We kiss deeply, and I groan. This is not how I imagined the day going. We’re making out surrounded by dead bodies on a battlefield. I’m making out with the Devil of the Wastes, and he tastes better than anything I’ve ever tasted.
Griffin’s claws dig into my waist as he pulls me along his warm body. A wave of heat that is entirely my own courses through my entire being. I can feel the points of his fangs with my tongue.
Our kiss is urgent and violent. The monster in him is demanding, and I don’t mind it one bit. I crave it after spending days pining after him, never knowing if I could even tempt him. Apparently, I do. There’s an unmistakable bulge rubbing against my belly as we kiss.
“Griffin…” I whisper when he lets me take a breath.
“Fuck… Helios… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be…”
He buries his face in my neck, and I stroke his hair between his horns. They’re back to their normal size. We stay like this for a while, until he calms down.
9
Not entirely human.
“Helios noun: He·li·os ['he-le-?s] -(?)os
Helios is a masculine name of Greek origin, meaning “sun.” In Greek mythology, Helios is the god and personification of the sun, and he is often depicted with a radiant crown upon his head. With a name that celebrates the bright ball of light in the sky, the baby will know that they were named for their bright disposition and the goodness they add to the world.”
Extract ofThe Name Book, by Dorothy Landkof, published in 2028.
It takes a few hours for Griffin to bury all the dead prisoners in the ground. The mercenaries and the slavers are left to rot under the sun. I help as best I can, but I have to admit he does most of the heavy lifting. It’s not a surprise that he’s ten times stronger than me, even now that he’s back to normal.
He knew two of the victims. The teenage boy and a woman. Mother and son, he told me. I avoid looking at them for too long. It hits too close to my own life. How many times did I almost end up dead like this with my mom?
Well, it’s all in the past now.
By nightfall, we go back to theBeetle. She takes us far away. I don’t know what our destination is, but I hope it’s somewhere peaceful.
I force Griffin to take the first shower. He needs it more than me. He’s covered in blood and dust. I sit on the couch and wait.
“Does that often happen?” I ask Beet. “Griffin losing control.”
“Not often, but sometimes,” she says. “When he’s particularly angry or desperate. Some situations will turn any man into a beast. He just has the DNA to back up his emotions.”
“What god gave him their genetics?”
“It’s not my secret to tell,” she simply says.
Ever so cryptic. I bet she would be loyal to her master to the bitter end. Our ancestors were wrong when they imagined the apocalypse would come from the machines. I’ve never heard of an AI who went against their creators’ will. Even if they tend to lose their marbles after a few decades without maintenance.
