You nodded emphatically. I didn’t sense you were agreeing just to placate me. But it must have been contradictory to Lena’s instruction—that respect is earned through brazen displays of aggression and conquest.
“I’m not going to tell you how to behave with others, but I’d like to set some guidelines when it comes to the two of us. I would rather you lie to me than seduce me. I want us to be able to trust each other, and incidents like what happened at your birthday party erode that trust. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you said quietly. Humility colored your cheeks. I didn’t want for you to feel shame over what had happened. I only wanted you to understand that it couldn’t happen again.
“I wanted to know more about him,” you said quietly.
And here I was plagued with guilt; it was a stain upon my soul that I should keep the truth of your identity from you, but I didn’t want you to hate me. Or fear me. I needed your trust if I was to help you navigate this existence.
“I’d like for you to wait until I’m ready,” I said. Untilwewere ready.
You nodded again. Your jaw tensed and you swallowed tightly, holding back.
“Talk to me, Vincent.”
“I’ve been having dreams,” you said, eyeing me closely. I attempted a neutral expression.
“What kind of dreams?”
You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed.
“Sex dreams?” I asked. You nodded, not looking up. “Seems natural.”
“These dreams arenotnatural, Henri.”
“Who are these dreams about?” I asked, suspecting I knew already.
“You can’t tell anyone.” You peered at me through your fingers.
“I promise I won’t.”
“Swear it?” you asked, and I nodded. “Papa,” you said with a groan. “Are bloodborns perverts or what, Henri? Because the fantasies I’ve been having… they’re… not right.”
I tugged at your hands so that I could see your face, unobstructed. “It’s perfectly normal,” I said. Normal for two selves seeking union, a mortal soul reborn as divine.
“I don’t think so,” you said.
“I promise you, Vincent, it is.”
You glanced skyward then, collecting your thoughts and blinking slowly. I’d seen you do the same thing in your past life when you needed a minute to compose yourself.
“I think about the two of us,” you said, swallowing tightly. “Not just sex but about the things I want… and part of me worries I’ll never have it because you’ll always see me as a kid. And even though I knew it was wrong, I think using my powers made me feel like your equal.”
The honesty of your admission pained me. Some part of you must remember how it used to be between us. The imbalance that made you feel powerless. I’d been reckless as well, so all-consuming was my desire to possess and protect you. I’d waited too long in your last life to give you the room you needed to thrive. Was I repeating my same mistake?
“I know I say this more often than you’d care to hear, but I have lived a very long time. And there are many seasons to our lives. Right now, you’re on the cusp of full bloom. You’re coming into your powers and learning your place in the world, navigating difficult social situations and working on becoming the man and god you’re destined to be. But you have time, Vincent. Much more time than our human friends and relatives. And if I could give you one piece of advice, it is to be patient with yourself. When you feel the urge to act on an impulse, slow down and just… breathe.”
Your eyes narrowed and your jaw set in a stubborn line, an expression I knew all too well. One that said I was being a “condescending asshole.”
“This is an argument we’ve had before,” you said, staring at me with an uncanny perception.
“I don’t think so,” I lied.
“Then why does it feel so familiar?”
I swallowed. Curse my duplicity, but you’d caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what else to do.
“Perhaps we’ve had some variation of this argument before,” I said.
