I should want her to stay away. Idowant that…mostly.
I hate that for the first time in my entire life, the prospect ofnottalking to someone ever again is actually bothering me, and I hate it more that it would have to beher.
I sit up abruptly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My mind is exhausted, but my body is coursing with unspent energy. I need to do something; need to run, fight,something.
I get to my feet and stride across the room in two steps. I’m wearing only trousers and no shirt, and I don’t bother to find one as I know I won’t need it. I shove my feet into my boots without lacing them up, and stalk out of my room, through the empty halls, and outside into the weak sunshine. Immediately, my gaze flicks toward the manor—more specifically, to the stone tower sticking out of the roof of the mansion as if it were dropped there after the fact. Turning my back on the tower and setting off for the woods is harder than it should be—which is how I know I’m doing the right thing.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve known for months that I needed to end things with Aurelia. I shouldn’t have started anything with her in the first place. I was weak—selfish—to let things get this far. But, in my defense, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to like her.
When Aurelia mentioned that I’d found her annoying at first, she didn’t know how right she was. From the first moment we met, I found her irritating. Beautiful, sure, but tiresome.
She was—is—oddly cheerful even when there’s no reason to be. She’s bratty and difficult, but has a bleeding heart over the most incomprehensible things. She never stopped talking at me, or bringing strange animals into the barracks, orsmiling.And worst—or maybe best—of all, she’s awitch.
She’s everything I thought I hated and I’d been sure there was no risk of attachment, so I didn’t bother to avoid her. I didn’t stop myself from looking at her during our training sessions, or pretend not to notice that she was watching me too.
When she came to my room that first time, I told myself that once wouldn’t matter. That it was just physical; that no one in my position could be expected to resist a woman as beautiful as Aurelia practically falling into my lap.
Then, when it kept happening, I told myself it was still alright; that it didn’t mean anything; that it was nothing more than training or running to work off my unspent energy.
I was a fucking idiot.
I don’t know exactly when my feelings started to change—maybe it wasn’t one thing, but a hundred little things over time.
I expected her to quit learning to fight after a day—a week at most—but she never stopped or complained. Begrudgingly, I was impressed. Then she kept talking at me long enough that I started listening to her, and it was impossible not to notice that she’s smart, and what she has to say is interesting, if a little overly optimistic. Her brattiness started to amuse me, and the sex only seemed to get better over time.
When even her magic stopped bothering me, I knew I was starting to like her too much. That was unacceptable and far too dangerous. I had to end it, but I kept procrastinating having the conversation, and Aurelia kept turning up at my door.
Three months ago, when she got angry and stopped coming to my room, I told myself I was relieved. I wasn’t. Night after night I fought with myself, half of me hoping she would knock on the door, and the other half praying that she wouldn’t. I wanted to go to her room for once and tell her…I don’t know. Tell her something, but I didn’t. I’d never once gone to her room, because as long as I didn’t initiate anything I could justify to myself that this was her choice, and that I didn’t care abouther even as I lay awake every night, counting the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if she was doing the same. Leaving her alone was the safest thing for her, and I was sure I was doing the right thing.
That is, until I saw her in the barracks this morning and couldn’t stay away—couldn’t stop myself from kissing her, holding her. Something felt different this time, and I know she noticed it too.
I started to tell her that we couldn’t keep doing this, that it had to end now, for her sake. But then Jett interrupted, and I was relieved.
I don’t know what I was going to do if she hadn’t brought up our arrangement last night. Would I have ended it first? I’d like to think I would have done the right thing in the end, but I’m not sure.
In a way, Aurelia made things easier for me by being the one to bring up the obvious fact that whatever we’re doing, it stopped being casual a long time ago. Only now, I know how she feels, and that makes everything worse.
Knowing that everything I want is within arm’s reach, but I can’t reach out and take it, is infinitely more painful than thinking I’d never find it at all.
I shake my head to clear it, blinking several times until the trees in front of me come back into view. I’ve been standing at the edge of the forest for several long minutes, unmoving, but now I force myself to focus.
I glance around to make sure I’m alone, then I kick off my boots behind a tree and reach for my belt. When I’ve made sure my clothes are safely hidden, I stand straight, close my eyes, and let the change take me.
A sharp bolt of agony shoots through me as my bones crack and reform. My skin prickles as thick white fur pushes through, and my gums burn as my teeth elongate into fangs.
I drop to all fours as my spine realigns with a series of satisfying pops. My hearing sharpens; suddenly I can detect a rabbit’s heartbeat fifty yards away. I dig my claws into the soft earth, muscles coiling, and launch myself between the trees.
The wolf in my head, whose voice is sometimes my own and sometimes feels separate, howls with excitement. He—I—love running like this, especially after so many years when I thought I’d never be able to again.
In Dyaspora, they’d stripped everything from me, even this. The prison island is enchanted to suppress all magic, even that which allows Fae to show their wings and shifters to change their form. When I was sentenced to life there, one of the worst parts was knowing I wouldn’t fly again, but it was nothing compared with how it felt to know I’d never shift.
The musky scent of a rabbit hits my nose, and my muscles bunch instinctively, claws digging furrows in the snowy ground as I surge forward. I weave between trees, following the scent trail that hangs in the air like a visible ribbon.
Beneath an evergreen shrub I catch a flash of brown fur. My jaws part, saliva dripping. Three more bounds and it would be mine, but I freeze mid-stride, panting, watching as the rabbit disappears into the underbrush.
Fuck.
Aurelia’s damned bleeding heart is rubbing off on me, even in this form, and making me question all my natural instincts.
