He reappears in a swirl of black, holding a new book in his hand—no not new. It’sMoby Dick. He’s refurbished it, but it’s the same old book I’d taken from the stash those months ago.
“This is the heart of my hoard. My lifeforce is tied to it. I can survive if this book survives,” he says as he holds it out to me.
Anger implores me to slap it away, but I ignore the urge…I am an adult, after all.
I take it with a sigh. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Keep it safe.”
I grimace, feeling the weight of responsibility in my hands. “Isn’t it safer with you?”
“It is.”
“So, why give it to me?”
He takes a breath to speak but stops with something on the tip of his tongue. He flusters for a moment, then growls. “Fine, give it back.”
“No!” I shout as I pull the book close to my chest.
“Then take care of it, or I’ll die,” he snarls, then disappears again.
I stick my tongue out at the air where he was, then look down at the book. Its black leather binding is bumpy, and I can sense the seams. He can craft perfect shells for these books with his magic, yet he spent the time doing this one by hand. He’d watched me mend the damaged books and learned to use my tools to fix this one.
Somehow that feels…wonderful. That he could’ve “cheated” but he learned from me instead and used my knowledge to rebind his book.
His soulbound book.
The words come back to me now from the bath. He’d told me about it then. If only I’d known what he meant, or how important it was—
Is.
How important itis.
And despite the dangers of letting me have it, he wantsmeto keep it safe.
Awareness dawns on me all at once.
It wasn’t just me developing real feelings this whole time. I wanted to fuck around because I thought I’d get the need out of my system, but I only etched him deeper into my story. Maybe I’ve written myself into his, too.
“Bastian, come back.”
He appears before me as if he never left.
I swallow the emotion building in my throat and look up at him. “I’ll take care of it.”
He huffs. “Good.”
I stand up from my desk and throw my arms around him. “I like you.”
He holds me back, even tighter. “I have somehow grown to care for you, too, pink flesh.”
“Somehow,” I challenge with a snort. “I’mverylikeable.”
His talons comb through my hair and down my back. “You are. And I know I am not, so this is very confusing for me.”
“Well, anyone forced to live with you would eventually see your good side,” I say.
He grips the back of my neck and turns my head to look up at him.
