Page 40 of Moth to a Flame

Well…it wasn’t just the sex.

Because I could no longer rush to my brothers’ rescue over every little thing, they had been figuring things out on their own. Motthew had been keeping me up to date via text. At first, each one had sent anxiety spiking through me, but now they were mostly just manageable questions and selfies.

My list was the shortest it had ever been. All I had to worry about was getting new parts for the greenhouse and finding new ways to make Lucia fall apart.

She’d taken care of everything else.

Despite not being able to communicate with others, she’d set up a network of systems that kept her life running—a second garden full of edibles to minimize her trips to town, Gertrude, whom she’d worked out some sort of number-code system with, and an uncrushable will that solved everything else.

For the first time in my life, I was with someone who didn’t need anything from me. I trusted that she could take care of both of us, and that was more freeing than I’d realized.

But she didn’t trust me. I’d seen that two nights ago when she’d asked me to go on a ride around eleven p.m. I’d asked her why, and she’d deflected until I’d gotten on my knees and teased her into compliance.

“That’s—not fair—Mothman—” she’d panted as I’d looped both her legs over my shoulders and pinned her to the kitchen counter.

I hadn’t been able to respond, my tongue buried deep inside her pussy.

She’d tugged my hair, but I could be bratty sometimes. I’d learned that this week too. I didn’t give in to her, as much as I wanted to.

“Okay—it’s medicine—people in town—need⁠—”

I’d rewarded her, sucking the delicious nectar out of her until she’d released more all over my face.

We’d ridden around town, her commanding me to cut the engine before we got too close to any one house so she could sneak up and leave her gifts on porches in the light of smirking jack-o’-lanterns.

We’d made the last delivery, and she’d climbed on behind me, holding tight.

“Why was it so hard for you to ask for my help?”

What I’d meant to ask was why she was hiding the best part of herself from me. The part that cared so deeply for a town that had shunned her that she continued to care for them, skulking around in the dark like she was guilty of something. I thought about the pain it would have saved me over the years if someone had done this for my brother, especially before the generic of his medicine had come out.

“Let’s just go home, Hawk.”

She’d shut me out so fast I’d regretted asking anything at all.

It was because she had everything taken care of. She didn’t need me. But every once and a while, that flame inside her would light when she solved a tricky problem, or when I made her laugh. It was just as beautiful as that first night—and happening more frequently—but it never lasted.

Right now…she was glowering. All the plants around her were wilting, and plants were never wrong.

I installed the last panel and stood, wiping the dirt off my hands.

“Finished!” I turned around, smiling at her, hoping she would return it.

Instead, she grew darker and mumbled, “That was fast.”

No. I couldn’t have that. She might not need me, but she was stuck with me for now, and I was going to use that to my advantage. And I was a selfish mothman. I wanted to be the reason she glowed.

I’d already taken off my shirt, but that hadn’t been enough. Time to break out the big guns—metaphorically speaking.

“You’re not the only one with magic tricks, you know,” I replied, moving closer to her.

She perked up at that. “Oh, was your mom a witch? I didn’t think mothmen could⁠—”

Before she could finish, I reached behind her ear in one fluid motion and produced a small wrench. I twirled it between my fingers before making it vanish again. “See? Magic.”

She resisted for a moment, but then she laughed, and the bond hummed pleasantly from both sides.

So much better.