Chapter 25

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Trigger Warning: disturbing memories, discussion of sexual assault

This happens. Every year. Like clockwork.

The second school collapses into summer, I fall ill. My body gives up. All the mind over matter immune system buffs dissipate, and I find myself bedridden until the fog clears.

I guess, in some ways, it's a good thing LARP Friday and Last Day of School Friday collided, canceling the former. Even though I have a stream of irate messages from Castor claiming injustices that my paltry day job interrupted his play time, at least I wasn't carrying whatever this heinous flu is around the gang.

No, instead I'm just carrying it around my husband and my child—who for his own safety has been stolen away from my room, where I cannot cuddle his cute face in hope of feeling marginally better.

Without my baby to help me, I must suffer beneath the kindnesses of my evil husband.

"Please, have a modicum of decency and stop enjoying this," I mutter, congested.

Delight apparent on his face, Alexios blows on a spoonful of chicken soup, then holds it to my lips. "It's the sick day episode. I get to pamper you while your fever-ridden brain contemplates a high possibility you are actually obsessed with me."

I do not drink the soup. "No."

"Your fever isn't high enough yet. Don't worry." He touches the warm spoon directly to my lips. "You'll be confessing your love in a fit of delirium you won't remember come morning sometime later this evening." Looking pretty delirious himself, he says, "Drink up, snowflake. You need to get all toasty if you're going to melt for me."

Because my throat is sore, I roll my eyes and accept the morsel. "You could at least pretend to feel bad for me."

"Contracting illness is natural for most people. I feel no compulsion to pity you at this point." He begins blowing on another spoonful of soup, and a shiver I'm blaming on my low-grade fever races up my spine as his smile stretches. "Look at you…all weak and helpless…reliant fully on me… What pure seduction it is to be at your beck and call." He offers me the next spoonful. "I adore caring for you."

"I've taken care of myself every other time I have ever been sick. You could so easily be obsolete."

He dips the soup into my mouth. "Yes, yes. Never again. In sickness and in health , I said in my vows. And, as you are well aware, I could do naught but mean them fully." Resting the spoon in the bowl, he bites the middle finger of his glove to pull it off, then he sets the cool backs of his fingers against my forehead.

"Uncalled for behavior," I mumble, reaching to hold his flesh to my blazing skin. "If you were a real boy, you'd be such a theater kid. And nobody would like you."

He lets the magic holding the glove between his teeth together unravel into nothingness. "Would you like me?"

I would have fallen head over heels for the dark, dramatic beauty. And I would have crammed all those feelings down in the pit of my chest. Because by the time I was old enough to contract silly things like feelings , I was wrestling daily with negative amounts of self-worth.

I thought I was insane. And dirty. And useless.

I'd have talked myself out of having the time for a relationship, what with school work and house work and dodging my drunken father and supporting my emotionally- immature mother.

I'd have reminded myself that no one would want someone soiled like me.

I'd have, perhaps, gone so far as to set him up with one of my friends, because then wanting him would be coveting, and coveting is a sin.

In those days, it was always easier to torture myself when I made something evil according to my mutilated picture of an all-powerful God. Loving kindness, sincere forgiveness, and earnest reconciliation with children He cared for simply didn't match how my mother portrayed the All Mighty.

So it wasn't how I could see Him.

For a long, long time.

Letting my eyes close, I move Alexios's hand to my cheek. "I'm an extrovert," I murmur. "I like everyone."

"Come now." Alexios leans forward to press a cool kiss to my temple. "Finish your soup, angel."

I don't move. "I can feed myself."

"Do not deprive me of my precious sick day cliches."

"I will not be kissing you to pass on my illness. Nor will I, ever, say it's so hot and begin taking off my clothes. In a similar vein, you will not be changing my shirt on account of it being too sweaty ."

He scoffs.

Actually scoffs .

I open my eyes to find him regarding me, like he does. "Please don't insult me. Changing clothes happens when the male lead is ill. It's inappropriate to strip the female lead."

I smirk. "Sounds like Alana only watched the tame anime."

"If you're implying I change my source content from the tame anime to anything else , do speak up."

Staring at him, I do not reply. I do, however, open my mouth to receive another spoonful of soup.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, letting his glove reform around his fingers as he scoops more broth.

"Let's just hope for the magical day-only recovery, okay?" I mumble.

"However long it takes for you to reveal insurmountable romantic feelings suits me just fine."

"Ha ha ha." I'd flip him off, but I simply do not have the energy.

※

Dark. And cold. And hot. And pain .

Pain. And fear. And suffocation. And shame .

Shame. And guilt. And guilt. And guilt .

Even though it's not my fault.

Even though I never asked for this.

Even though I begged for it to stop.

Even though I am supposed to be a protected child of God .

Mom must be right.

God only listens to good children who do everything He tells them to.

I'm not perfect enough for Him.

This must be punishment for something I did wrong.

Please, God. Please . If You're out there. If You can hear me. I'll do better. I promise .

Just. Make it stop .

※

" Zahra! " A voice rips me from the shadows in my skull to the darkness in my room.

My flesh boils, and the darkness writhes.

The harsh voice swears as a hand tears a monster away from my blankets. "Get the—" It curses. "—off her."

Whatever it was had a hand around my throat, but even now that it's gone, I can't breathe. I can't breathe .

My throat hurts. My limbs hurt. My head aches .

A tide of horrors pummels my still-rioting subconscious.

The man in my room is tall, slender, frantic.

The man in my mind was shorter, rounder, balding.

But that doesn't matter right now.

I never want another man near me ever again .

Despite the agony lighting every one of my nerves, I am too weak to scream. I am too scared to fight. I ache too much to try and flee. All I can do as the tall man closes in is whisper a cracking, "Please, Dad. Don't ."

The man stops, frozen, bathed in bleak outlines.

When he reaches forward, I brace for the worst, squeeze my eyes shut, and let tears cascade down my cheeks—knowing they won't make a difference.

Monsters like this aren't capable of mercy or compassion.

Light erupts, like a bomb, and I squint to find my lamp illuminating…Alexios.

Pale, stark horror stretches his sharp features, making them look gaunt. Pain creases between his brows as he forces a swallow down his throat, eases himself onto the very edge of my bed, and tightens his fists in his lap, next to the baby monitor he has hooked to a belt loop. "It's okay," he whispers, each word taut, on the verge of snapping. "You're awake. You're safe. I'm not going…" His voice trembles. "I'm not going to hurt you." His eyes close, briefly, suffering. When they open again, he offers me a shaking smile. "Can you sit up some for me, angel? I'll make you lemon honey tea, check your fever, see if we can't get you breathing easier, okay?"

Reality crashes into me, splintering the fragmented hold I have on my senses. What…just happened? Where was I? What did I do? Did I say something horrible? "Xios?" I croak, pulling myself from the cold puddle of sweat I'm lying in. I start shaking before I get the damp covers off me. A weak whimper escapes as I wipe tears from my cheeks. "What's…going on?"

"Shh." He inches in, letting his glove dissipate as he cups my cheek. A soft swear leaves him, and he stands. "I'm going to start the tea and get a damp rag." He marches to my dresser, and I don't know how exactly I'm supposed to feel about the fact he knows where I keep my pajamas as he gets a fresh set out, makes an about-face, and places them beside me on my nightstand. "Do you think you can change and move to the other side of the bed for me?"

Glancing sidelong at the fresh clothes, including underwear, which I really don't know how to feel about, I skate my fingers over the cropped half of my head, grounding myself in the soft prickle. "I…think so." I sneeze, and Alexios is handing me a tissue before I realize I need it.

"When I came into existence," he says, without prompting, "I was completely naked. Pila wrapped me in a blanket of woven grass, and I had my first existential crisis in Cael's throne room. Flopped over. Fetal position. In the corner. The world was really loud, and there were so many scents. Even right now. There is so much going on. If you listen closely, you can hear all sorts of things. For instance, there's an owl outside." He turns abruptly. "I will be back soon."

I blink blearily at his retreating form, then I spend the next five minutes trying to hear the owl he mentioned while I transition into dry clothes on the dry half of my bed.

When he returns with my biggest coffee mug of lemon honey tea, I mumble, "Is the owl still here?"

Handing me the mug, he lets his brows rise. "I never did specify that there was an owl here , in our vicinity, did I?"

Confusion boggles my poor fever-ridden brain. My hands shake around my mug as I shiver. "Wha…"

Before I can gather my thoughts, he plows into my on-suite bathroom and dampens a washcloth.

"Xios, are you trying to be a pain?"

"No." Returning, he hooks a finger beneath my chin and dabs my face with the cloth. "Not at all. The lesser unseelie fae can continue to sprout under these sorts of conditions. Since you are a garden of seeds and I had to leave you unsupervised for a moment, I gave you something menial to water in my absence."

He distracted me with the possibility of hearing an owl.

How dare he know that such a thing would work…

"I am excellent at misdirection," he murmurs while I'm debating whether or not I am too tired to smack him.

On the one hand, I'm very tired and might spill my tea.

On the other…

Nope. As it turns out I am extremely tired. And I really don't want to spill my tea now that I've just gotten dry.

Frowning into the mug, I let the steam flood my sinuses. My head is swimming. This sucks. I'm so glad I had the sense this afternoon to cancel the Saturday night stream that was supposed to happen earlier.

I can't even remember how swiftly I declined once the sun started to set.

Everything for several hours has been a blur.

Gently, Alexios pulls my long hair away from my neck. Slick with sweat, the strands stick to my skin. Despite how horribly gross and pitiful I am right now, he lingers. "Zahra…"

The cautious tone of his voice pricks something in my chest, so I stop nursing my tea to meet his eyes.

He says, "May I have your soul?"

My brow furrows. "Nice try, silly man. I don't think I can be ill enough to fall for that one."

"I'm not trying to make you fall for anything… I just…" His eyes close, and his fingers fall away from the curtain of my hair. "I hate to see you hurting. Knowing I can help make it better, knowing it would be meaningless to force you… You deserve so much better than this." Agony sweeps through his gaze when it finds me again. "I can help . Please, please let me help."

Having someone willing to help me sounds so nice right now, while I'm worn out, shivering, and might have hallucinated evaporating into stardust before I passed out earlier. For the first time in my life, someone is taking care of me .

No one has ever taken care of me like this before.

It soothes something crying inside my soul.

I think, probably, I've always wanted to feel safe enough to rely on someone. Fully. No fears or worries connected to giving up control.

It's the relationship I'm supposed to have with God—absolute trust.

But…even now…I still wrestle constantly with Him, going so far as to have some days where I doubt the foundation of His character.

After all, what loving God would ever allow any of this to go on?

Looking into Alexios's eyes right now…I wonder. Maybe it's the sort of loving God that would plead for a chance to help, knowing forcing any of it would make it mean nothing.

Just because He's not sitting on my bed right now and begging for the opportunity doesn't mean tears aren't glistening in His eyes every time one of His children is hurt.

I love people.

I love the breathless moments when someone does something, and I see the love of God reflected in their kindness and sincerity.

Maybe it's the delusion of my fever, or maybe it's proof something else inside me is healing, but I ask, "What would you do first, if I gave you everything, Xios?"

"I would grant you the sensation of safety," he says. "I would console each aching piece of you, cradling them in my arms until you can rest. Then, while you rested, I'd work through every knot until your pain comes undone so I can devour it without damaging the precious parts of you. Once you're light as a feather, I'd consume your humanity and watch you become a glimmering star in my hands. After that…I'm not sure. It would depend on you and what you might want from me. I could spend hours learning the new shapes of your fae form, tracing the points of your ears, marveling at your beauty, or I could spend days having a crisis over how someone so flawlessly perfect could really…truly…and completely…be mine ."

My weak, ill heart trips a little. "That…doesn't sound awful."

Flurries of hope ignite in his eyes. Desperate, he cups my cheek. "It wouldn't be, angel. I'd take such good care of you. I would love every fragment with such…such precision . You would want for nothing."

"Sounds like a life of slavery for you."

"Blissful servitude. And…it's not as though I would get nothing in return for my labors."

There it is.

The catch.

Sipping my tea, I slump. "What would you get?"

"Your unfaltering adoration. The honor of owning your scintillating soul. The constant caress of your dear thoughts. The assurance of your love."

"You shouldn't have to own someone to have their love, Xios…"

"When you bless me with the permission to own you, it will be because you love me."

The steam has almost allowed me to take a clear breath. "I dunno. Sounds unhealthy."

His hope diminishes. "Well, what do you expect from an unseelie mate?"

Certainly not tea in bed, wet washcloths, and gentle revelations of unconditional love.

I lift a shoulder.

"If you don't know, how am I supposed to become the picture of your deepest fantasies?"

"I don't really have any fantasies," I mumble into my drink.

"None?"

I catch his eye, let it go, and shrug again. "Sorry. Nothing tame really interests me. Everything else…is scary…or wrong. I think I've taught myself to want for nothing all on my own. I've spent so long taking care of myself, I've gotten really good at it."

"You know…" he murmurs, "…mates exist to complete each other, but that's not all. They also stand to test one another's strengths and weaknesses. Because of Ash, I am forced to give up my dream of absolute possession. Perhaps I'm not the only one who must come to terms with relinquishing control."

I arch a brow. "Or, perhaps, someone between us should give up completely on any level of possession, period? I keep my soul and the rest of everything . You learn to deal with it."

He chuckles. "No, I'm sure that's not right. At some point, I will need to devour your humanity. It only makes sense."

"Okay…what if it's only the humanity, though? Nothing else."

"Unlikely." When another shiver wracks my bones, Alexios pulls a throw off my footboard and tucks me in before going to freshen up the washcloth.

I'm scowling pitifully into my mug when he gets back. " What if I give you my humanity, then you give me access to your powers, then I get your everything?"

His eyes light. "That would be delightful. We could trade everythings."

As he leans in and wipes my brow, removing the damp, sticky moisture of the tea's steam, my heart thumps. "Seriously?"

"I don't mind exchanging my heart for yours. My thoughts are not secret to you. My soul already belongs in your palm. There is little that would change for me if you would be content to own my everything as payment for yours."

I am, quite honestly, too sick for this conversation.

The sheer allure of owning his everything…is almost enough to make me cast off my reason and shake on it right here. If I own him in return, that's protection. And, now that the literal possibility presents itself…

I understand.

I understand why he wants as much from me.

"When I'm feeling better, can we talk about this again?" I ask.

Wicked pleasure overcomes him. "Of course."

I grumble, "Don't look at me like that."

He closes his eyes. "My apologies. I grew hungry on the idea you were considering not only giving me what I desire…but also wanting me in all the same ways." His free hand lifts, gripping a fist in the clothes over his heart. "It incites things that are nearly too much to bear. I love you so much, Zahra. Being wanted by you is such a gift."

It hurts to swallow, because my throat is sore, so I shove a bit more tea down to soothe it. "You're a very weird little bat boy, Xios…"

"I suppose I am." His eyes reopen, all mischief and… love …in the depths of the storms. "Another reason we match so well." Turning on his heel, he says, "I shall relocate Ash outside your bedroom door and get a pillow to place on the floor between you two."

"What? Why would you do that?"

My lamplight casts him in beautiful, safe shadows as he smiles back at me. "So this little bat has somewhere to sleep while he keeps an eye on both his darlings." Darkness swallows his eyes, violent retribution sparking on my behalf. "Should more nightmares plague you, I intend to rip them to shreds. Sleep well, and know that I am here."

Stilling, I watch him retreat and return.

I watch him kiss Ash's sleeping forehead at the doorway.

Then I watch him snuggle up as a little bat on the pillow between us.

All the while, Psalm 46:10 echoes in my tired skull.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Rest. And trust that, amid pain and chaos, there is a refuge of strength woven into My plans for you.

Super weird of Him to grant me that refuge in the form of a tiny bat…but I'm not going to argue with the kind of deity who sends babies to stop rebellions.

It doesn't need to make sense. It just needs to work.

And, if I'm honest, I think it is most definitely working.