“So fucking gorgeous.”
His grip tightens, but then he hesitates, his breath stuttering deep in his chest.
“Well,” he murmurs. His voice is softer now, almost uncertain. “That was … unexpected. I gave you what you asked for. But … I hope you’re not afraid of me now.”
Ezra tries to drop his head, but I don’t let him. I cup his face, my thumb tracing over his cheek without thinking. His dark grey eyes warily flick to mine.
“I’m not scared of you,” I say quietly, my voice softening just for him. “You saved my life, Ezra. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.” I shiver, swallowing around the terror lodged in my throat. “I’m scared of them.”
Ezra exhales through his nose, his fingers brushing against my ribs, bringing me back from the sharp edge of panic.
“That’s very wise.” His shadows wrap around my legs, mimicking his praise. “I never want you to fear me, little lupine. You can ask me anything about myself, or about other creatures. If I can answer, I will.”
My bottom lip catches between my teeth, a thousand questions screaming for attention.
Ezra’s lips curve as if he could hear every single one.
“You already have questions, don’t you?” He presses a soft, quick kiss to my neck.
I roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”
He chuckles softly. “I’m listening.”
“I noticed you breathing last night. Which is silly. But then I thought … if you’re made of shadows, do you even need to breathe?”
The question sounds stupid the second it’s out of my mouth. I can’t even look at him.
Christ, what a childish thing to ask.
Ezra tuts, tilting my chin back toward him. “Never be ashamed of your curiosity, Aurora.”
A shadow brushes my jawline. It feels playful and affectionate.
“Right now, you want to know why I breathe.” He chuckles. “An excellent question. And the answer might help with some of the other thoughts swirling around that beautiful brain.”
He taps my temple, his grin damn near insufferable.
“I can shift into any living creature on Earth,” Ezra explains in a soft, slow voice. It’s clear he’s picking out the perfect words … the ones that won’t send me running.
“When I take a solid form, I take on its physiology. I need to breathe, just like you do. I have organs, veins, a heart that beats.”
His fingers tighten on my waist, a smirk curling his lips.
“But don’t mistake me for human, Aurora. I am only this way because I choose to be.”
His shadows flicker restlessly, silently voicing their disgust at being tied to this human form.
“For example …” Ezra leans in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if what he’s about to say might break the universe itself. “I don’t use the bathroom.”
I blink at him. “Ever?”
“Never.”
I narrow my eyes. “You mean to tell me that in all your billions of years of existence, you never once—”
“Not once.” He says it too confidently, like not having to shit is an acceptable humble-brag.
“That’s deeply unsettling,” I say, my nose crinkling in mild disgust.
