September 14, age 26
Years later, I woke up in someone else’s arms.
A jolt of panic shot through me as a heavy, male arm weighed me down and a muscular body spooned me.
I’d fallen asleep with Silas in my bed.
I hated having people touch me.
I hated it even more when I felt like I’d done something I shouldn’t have and awoke to stare at the consequences.
I grimaced as I paged through old responses and excuses I’d used to get people out of my bed when they’d overstayed their welcome. I’d wanted him last night, yes, but it wasn’this arms I wanted to wake up in. But as I stared at the arm, a frown pinched my brows and turned down my mouth. The hand loosely holding me was as pale as snow.
It wasn’t Silas.
I ran my fingertips over the hand and exhaled at the cool skin of a demon.
Caliban had, in fact, held me through the night. My entire body relaxed, grateful beyond words that he’d stayed. He was real, and perfect, and beautiful. He hadn’t worn a shirt to bed, which made the morning display of ivory muscles a particularly pleasant feast for the eyes.
I had a thought, however fleeting.
Perhaps my touch aversion came from the distant remnants of my fae blood. Maybe I was destined to be unhappy in a human’s arms. Because with Caliban…
He was statue-still, eyes closed, breathing gently through his nose. His arm remained draped over me, ensuring that the first thing I smelled that morning would be ferns. His eyes opened slowly, the burning silver softening to a dim smolder as he smiled.
“When did you get here?” I asked. I couldn’t yet gauge my emotions. Was I nervous? Guilty? Proud? I didn’t know how to talk about this with Caliban.
“After the angel left your bed.”
Shit.
I wouldn’t have done it in the first place if I had thought it would be a betrayal. Yet, even still…
“Here, before we lose ourselves talking.” Caliban unfolded his hand to reveal Alessia’s bag of venom. “You have fourteen hours to go, and thirteen hours of venom, if used correctly.”
“I thought you said you’re not omniscient?” I asked. I heard the barest edges of shame color my dodgy question. Between Silas and my powder habit, we had much to discuss.
I grabbed the sticky note on my bedside table, scribbled with two words:
CALL EG!
I dipped the yellow corner of the paper into the bag and snorted a bit of the powder. The lightning bolt tingled the back of my brain, sending a shiver through my entire body as I pulled myself back into the current moment.
“I guess we have some catching up to do,” I admitted.
His face was unreadable as he said, “The stone gift is a dream come true. Make it last. The angel, on the other hand…you still have his essence leaking out of you.”
“I have an IUD,” I responded weakly.
His lips flattened into a line. “Do you truly think human birth control would stop anything from my side of the veil? I’ve never finished inside you, Love. I wouldn’t put you at risk like that.” He read my expression as he responded with, “Don’t worry. The Dark Lord Giveth, the Dark Lord Taketh Away. You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Plan B,” I muttered.
He pushed a kiss into my hair. “I love you, and nothing will change that,” he said. “Silas, however, is no longer on my good side. But, did it help? How did you sleep?”
It was jarring, hearing him talk like this. Unthreatened. So inhuman. Almost like I was still dreaming.
Caliban knew me better than anyone or anything in the realms. I understood he was asking if I felt like I’d reclaimed my religious trauma, which was one of the countless things I loved about him. Apart from that, I took stock of my body. There was the barest of aches between my legs from the man’s sheer size, which did not assuage my guilt.
