Page 51 of Lovely Venom

It’s all I have left of her, and that’s only because my father didn’t realize she’d given it to me. When she died, every trace of her disappeared from the house.

At night, I’d sit in my room, watching that tiny ballerina spin round and round as I waited for her to return. I thought if I wanted it badly enough, I could wish her back into existence. When that didn’t work, I convinced myself that what I saw the night she died was a dream.

She was still out there somewhere, and even though we didn’t escape together like she planned, she’d come for me someday.

Except that fantasy died a painful death when I discovered the false compartment on the bottom of the music box. All the money she’d saved for our new life was still there, and I knew then she was never coming home.

Bran: Tell me about her.

Morrigan: There isn’t much to tell. I only knew her for seven years. This box is the last thing she gave me, but sometimes, I wonder why I even keep it. I’m not sure if it’s a haunting reminder of her, or the life I’ll never have.

Bran: And what life is that, dea?

I hesitate for a moment as I consider how honest I want to be. He has a way of making me admit things I’d usually never say out loud. It’s why he’s so dangerous. But in this case, the truth isn’t a secret I need to guard with my life, because in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

Morrigan: I used to imagine giving this music box to my daughter someday, when I had a family of my own. But I think I just need to accept that my life didn’t turn out the way I planned, and some things aren’t in the cards for me.

Bran: It sounds like you know what you want. You just have to stop avoiding it.

His insight cuts a little too deep, because he knows how much I let fear control me. It’s the same reason I ran away from him, and why I keep telling myself I don’t have enough stability in my life for the things I want. But maybe I could…if I chose it.

Morrigan: Well, step one is complete. I finally broke up with Lord Dickhead. I guess I can officially call him that now.

Bran: Sad about it?

Morrigan: No. Honestly, I’m relieved.

Bran: Then why were you with him to begin with?

Morrigan: You know why.

There’s a pause after he reads the message, and it stirs a familiar sense of guilt in me.

Bran never told me how he felt when I ended our agreement abruptly, and I never asked. Our original terms stated plainly that we’d leave emotions out of it, but something shifted in our dynamic, and we both knew it. When it was over, I was surprised he even wanted to stay in contact with me at all, given how I’d left.

We’ve kept things surface-level since then, and up until tonight, our conversations have made a wide detour around anything too serious. But he brings back some of the levity with his next message.

Bran: So how many theoretical children are we having?

I fight back a smile as I shake my head.

Morrigan: You are not helping my sexual frustrations. Don’t tempt me when I’m ovulating.

Bran: I’m willing to put in the work, but you might regret asking me.

Morrigan: Why?

Bran: Because once I put a baby in you, I wouldn’t want to stop.

A slow-burning flame rolls down my spine as I stare at those words, liking the idea far more than I care to admit. He’s obviously joking, but for a moment, I entertain the thought of him doing exactly that.

Then reality sinks in, and I realize how crazy that sounds.

Morrigan: Really not helping. Now I can’t figure out if I have a breeding kink, or you do.

Bran: One way to find out.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to recall the way he touched me, or the sound of his low, rough commands as they brushed against my ear. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen him, my memories can’t be trusted. My mind has created some kind of Frankenfantasy between him and the man currently taking up too many of my thoughts with his invasion into my life.