“That’s the name I’ve given the beast. It … more or less means dog-deer. Not exactly poetry, I know.”
“Will it hurt me? Do you have control over it?”
That thing looked like it wanted to rip me limb from limb, then frolic in my remains.
“No, Aurora. It will not hurt you. The Cù Fèidh belongs to you. Your fear of my anger at the shop triggered something in my shadow, and it formed the Cù Fèidhon its own to protect you. In the forest, before your … well, earlier, my shadow felt your pull, just as my solid forms feel your pull. The beast couldn’t stay away. I had to beg it to return before it took up a protective post alongside Louie.”
“So, the Cù Fèidh is mine? It won’t hurt me?”
“No, little lupine. The beast belongs to you.”
As if sensing the words, Ezra’s shadows shift, stretching toward my wrist, cool and careful, like the Cù Fèidh itself is reaching for its rightful mistress.
“You should try to get some sleep, Aurora. I promise I will not leave your side. Can I get you anything?”
Ezra sits up, then throws his legs over the bed. But before he can stand, I grab his wrist and squeeze it.
“C-could you maybe hold me until I fall asleep? When you’re beside me, I feel better.”
My face burns with embarrassment, but my eyes never stray from his. Every time he leaves my side, my anxiety spikes, leaving me cold, empty, and panicked. Something stupid inside of me is desperate to have his arms wrapped around me.
“Are you sure?”
He runs his free hand over mine, which currently has a death grip on his wrist, then uses his forefinger to make soft circles on the back of my hand.
“No. I’m not sure. But I’d like to try.”
Ezra bites his bottom lip and looks away. He wants to say yes, but feels like he should say no. With a heavy sigh, he lays back on the bed and holds up the arm closest to me so I can sneak under it.
“Where would you like me to place my hand?”
Good question.
Do I want him to touch me?
What a dumb fucking question.
Of course I want him to touch me.
Ezra doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, but his shadows trail along the sheets in quiet anticipation.
“My hip, I think. I just … need some pressure and warmth.”
“As you wish, Aurora.”
I curl into his side on instinct—my leg hooking around his, my head tucked beneath his chin, my hand resting lightly on his stomach.
His steady breath, the way his skin hums against mine, the way his body twitches beneath my fingers—each one reminds me that he’s real. He’s here. He’s safe.
He wraps his arms around me, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
A deep, content sigh blows through my nose as my body relaxes for the first time in hours. Every muscle in Ezra’s body is tense, and if I weren’t exhausted, I would trace the abs I feel through his thin sweater.
“May I place my hand over yours, Aurora? I understand if it’s too much.”
This version of Ezra is a far cry from the asshole who cornered me on the street just a few days ago.
Wait. Holy shit. Is he blushing?
