Chapter 17

After dinner, I take Steve to Lin Falls. We park at the side of the road and have to hike a bit, but it's not too far. There's a full moon tonight, so we hear some werewolves. I'm not scared, but I hold Steve's hand as we walk through the woods. I want to touch him whenever I can.

The moon provides enough light that we can stay on the path without much difficulty. My new necklace is comfortable on my neck—not too heavy, but not insignificant. I pass my fingers across the skin-warmed metal.

The forest is eerie, and leaves rustle in the dark. I slip once on some loose gravel, but Steve catches me. He's stronger than I am. That's easy to forget, because he's so small, but he's got all those nokk powers.

The waterfall comes into view, a roaring tower with a dark pool at the base. It isn't super tall or super wide, but there is a large amount of water feeding a pool that looks big enough to swim in. "I think it might be too cold tonight to go in," I say to Steve, before remembering that he's from Norway and he's mostly water anyway, so the cold likely doesn't faze him at all.

"Would you like me to …" He gestures at the waterfall. "Stop it?"

I smile. "Absolutely."

He holds up his hands, and the waterfall halts.

I stare.

The water is just … suspended. It's shiny in the moonlight. The river is still going past us, but the waterfall is waiting.

It's so gorgeous. A wall of stopped water.

"I can't believe I'm seeing this," I say, moved almost to tears.

Steve smiles and kisses me, then lets the waterfall go.

"The song you wrote for me—does it have words? Can you sing it?" I ask.

"It does not have words yet. At least, not words that you would understand. They are in Old Norse."

"Can you sing it anyway? The melody is so beautiful." I wrap my arms around him, and he kisses me again. The kiss goes a little wild.

Eventually we break apart, and Steve holds me close and begins singing to me in an ancient language. He's right, of course; I don't understand the words—but I understand what he's trying to communicate. He's telling me how he feels about me. He's the dark to my light and the monster to my human, and together we're much more than we are apart.

I am so happy when I'm with him.

Steve finishes singing.

"Even though I don't know what the words mean, I can tell the lyrics are about me," I say.

"How is that?"

"I can tell by the way you sing it. Like, I have all this energy. And you're more sleepy hollows and caves and pools."

"That's right," he says.

We make out a bit more—quite a bit—by the river. "Do you want to go in?" I ask.

He looks at the water longingly.

"Do it," I say. "You can even shift into your true form if you like."

Steve shakes his head. "No, I don't think I can do that. Yet."

The yet makes my heart pound almost as much as the kissing.

Steve strips down to his underwear and jumps into the water, where he quickly dives out of sight, reemerges on the other side of the pool, and dives again. I stick my feet in, but I was right: It's too cold for me. After a little while—I think he gets out before he really wants to, so I'm not left waiting in the dark—Steve gets dressed again in his nice date outfit, going commando. I watch him the whole time, wanting him.

When we get back to our room, without thinking about it too hard, I gesture for Steve to crawl into bed with me. He holds me all night long. I don't know if he sleeps, but I know he's there for me.

The next day I argue that I'm well enough for practice, though I take it easy. After, we all head over to the cafeteria for breakfast, as usual. Steve begs off from eating, although he does have coffee. As usual.

When we're done, Steve sets out for his morning sociology class, and Clay and I head back to the dorms, taking a route past the sports fields.

"I was—we all were—really glad to see you this morning," Clay says when we get outside. "I texted you yesterday, but you didn't respond."

"You did?" I look at my phone and notice for the first time all the missed messages. "Sorry, guess I got busy." In a few senses of the word.

"And you're feeling okay? You almost drowned. It was scary as hell."

I finger my new necklace. "Yeah, it sucked, but it's over. I don't think it will happen again, either."

Clay raises his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"I talked with Steve about it."

His voice goes quiet. "How is he? Is he feeling guilty? He seemed like he was panicking yesterday, but today everything was chill."

I think about what he looked like, naked in front of me. "He's good."

He gives me a knowing look. "What's going on?"

"We kissed," I admit. "Not the CPR kiss, real kisses. And more."

Clay pumps his fist. "OMG. Yes. That's awesome. Tell me more."

"I don't really want to kiss and tell." I shove my hands into my pockets. "Except I feel like I should be having more of a crisis than I'm having."

"Is there a certain minimum level of crisis that is acceptable?"

"I have no idea, but I feel like none isn't the right amount."

"Only you could be upset that you're not upset enough over your sexual identity," Clay says, chuckling.

"I suppose. But everything seems so easy with Steve. Well, except the fact that I don't know his real name, what he looks like in his natural form, or for sure if he likes me for me or if all this is because I gave him my blood and that instituted some kind of supernatural bonding thing."

Clay pats my head like I'm twelve. "Pretty sure Steve likes you for you. First, as we've previously established, you're hot. Everyone wants to bang you. Second, you're a great dude. Why wouldn't he like you? All the other stuff—the ritual with the presents—he could just be a hoity-toity princeling and say ‘Thanks, but no thanks.' Instead, he's saying ‘Please let me suck your dick, oh hot one.'"

I smirk. "That's not quite the way he talks."

"Yeah, okay. I know. But he could have turned you down. Plain and simple. If he wasn't interested, he wouldn't have reacted so strongly."

"I guess." I pause. "Also, I was wondering … I want to have sex with him. Or rather, more sex."

Clay trips over a patch of grass covered in leaves. He recovers quickly. "I thought you guys were having sex. At least, you implied that."

"Some kinds, yes. But not other kinds yet. And I want to. I can't get enough of him."

"I understand the feeling," Clay says wistfully.

"But I still don't know his name. Isn't that weird, if we're … you know, doing all these intimate things together?"

"If it will kill him for you to use it, then no, it's not weird. I mean, it's definitely out of the ordinary, but it makes sense in the context of his life."

"I suppose. I guess I just never thought I'd have sex with someone and not know who they really are."

I'm distracted by the baseball team practicing to the side. We stop at the chain link fence surrounding the fields near a shorter dude who I think is a gorgon, judging by the snakes peeking out of his knit cap. I hook my fingers around the wires, watching the human pitcher toss the ball to the human catcher. Rumor has it that the Creelin team is going to finally do well this year because of those two. The gorgon's most definitely got his eyes—and maybe the eyes of his snakes—on the catcher.

After watching a few moments more, Clay and I take off again. When we're out of earshot, he says, "I dunno, Bran. I think you're getting to know who he really is. Steve talks to you, and he seems more alive when he's near you. I think you nourish his soul."

"Well, that's the thing. He says he has no soul."

"Oh, that's right. Okay, maybe he doesn't need one. I mean, isn't he worthy of love whether or not he has a soul?"

How is Clay so unintentionally brilliant? Sheesh. "That's what I'm going to tell him," I say. "You're so smart."

"Um. Thanks. I think." Clay looks at me hard. "You like him, don't you?"

I nod. "Uh, yeah. Isn't that what we've been talking about?"

"That's so cute. You're falling for the little Norwegian dude."

"I'm fine with you thinking it's cute. But thanks for reminding me that he doesn't live here permanently. What's going to happen when he goes back to Norway?"

"Oh, you'll figure that out. Long distance is a thing. People also do actually stay longer in places than they realize. And people move. If you really like each other, you'll figure something out."

I huff, annoyed at where this conversation has gone. Annoyed that I always end up telling Clay too much. "It's way too soon for us to be talking like that. I'm only twenty-one. We've barely met. I'm getting ahead of myself."

"But he's done something, hasn't he? He's gone into your soul, even if he hasn't stolen it."

"That's kind of ironic. He's all worried about taking my soul. But I'd like to be at the point where I can just give it to him."

"But not your ass yet."

I shove him.

Clay laughs. "Don't forget to ask him to the Halloween Ball. It's tradition."

"That's weeks away still."

"I think he'd want to be asked."

"Fair enough."

"You should know," Clay says, "there's a blood moon on the night of the Halloween Ball. That's one of those times when shifters can't control their shifts. So be aware that things may be quite a bit different that night."

I grin. "It will be fun." Then I think of something. "But Steve doesn't like anyone to see him in his true form."

"It's Halloween, dude. He can wear a costume if he wants."

I go to class, and all I can think about is Steve's face. It's funny, because I know his face is a mask he wears, and I want to see who he really is. I've formed a mental image based on the glimpses I've caught when Steve's human form buzzes out and for a second there's something different in its place. I think his true form has the same eyes, but more-webbed feet and hands. And I think his true form is more … nature-y. Green-gray and mossy. More like the deep lakes and fast rivers he's from. Since I think that suits him, I worry. His mother must've done a number on him for him to think he's unworthy of love because of the way he looks.

Love.

Is that what I'm feeling toward Steve? I'm not sure. I'm irresistibly attracted to him. I want to know everything about him. And I care about him. I want him to be safe and happy and … and loved.

I know I need to keep my grades up to keep my scholarship, but I'm useless today. I stare out the window, thinking about what it feels like to be with Steve intimately. Thinking about his voice and the way he treats me. How carefully he holds me.

He doesn't make me feel like I'm too much. On the contrary, I can be the true me when I'm around him: curious and enthusiastic and into things, even if they aren't for everyone—like karaoke and eighties movies.

I let Steve in, and he didn't flinch. He's the first. He might be the only, for all I know.

What we do together is more than sex. More than getting off. I don't mean to be emo about it, but … something has happened over the period between when he moved in, when we hung out, when we first kissed, and now. Something that makes me want to be near him always. That probably isn't healthy, but I'm not sure I care. I feel more reckless than I've been in my entire life. Like I'm free.

My world is rocked, and I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to run away, because this is too much. Part of me wants to go find him and beg him to do more sex things. All of me is confused. Except all of me does know one thing: I am into Steve. And I want a lot more.

A little voice in the back of my head is asking if this is all driven by some monster power—if I caused this by giving him my blood.

Except I felt an insistent tug toward him before he ever opened that paper bag. I just need to trust him. Period.

After dinner, Steve and I head out to walk along the river. Fall is truly here, and the yellow, red, orange, and brown leaves cascading like confetti onto the neat lawns are unlike anything I've seen before.

"I want to jump in a pile of leaves," I say, gesturing to where the zombie gardeners have gathered them in enormous heaps.

Steve looks at me like I have leaves coming out of my head. "Sorry?"

"I know I shouldn't, but this is the first time I've been in a place where the leaves turn colors. There are seasons in Arizona, but they're subtler, and it's not like there are maple trees among the cacti. If I'd grown up here, I'd have made such a mess every year."

He chuckles, and it sounds like a singing brook. "You are like a child sometimes."

"Just because I want to have fun? I know how to control my impulses."

"That is true. You do. And no, I do not think only children can have fun."

"Speaking of fun, do you want to go to the Halloween Ball with me?" I blurt.

Steve tilts his head. "The dance?"

"Yes. Fair warning, I hear it's on the night of the blood moon. Clay told me about that."

Steve's face falls. "Oh."

"I was thinking that you could wear a costume when you're outside, if that would make you more comfortable. Not," I hasten to add, "because I want you to hide. It's the total opposite. But what I care most about is that you're comfortable and happy. The second priority is going to a dance with my … my … you . So do you want to go?"

A brilliant smile takes over his face. "Absolutely, yes. I would like to go to the dance with you. We can sort out a costume." He leans over and kisses me.

"Cool." A giddy feeling courses through me, and I yip out a cheer. A few zombies look at me.

I shouldn't.

I really shouldn't.

I take a running leap and dive into the closest pile of leaves, scattering them everywhere. A few poke into my hoodie, and some get shoved down my pants.

Steve's hand flies to his mouth as he starts laughing. "You're going to make the work harder for them."

"I clean up my messes. I just believe in having fun and living for today." I pick a leaf out of my hair and grab a rake from a nearby shed. "I'll fix it."

Steve helps, and together we gather the leaves back into order.

"It's too tempting," I say, eyeing the neat pile we just made. "I want to jump in again."

Steve smiles. "You're incorrigible."

"It was worth it. And I'm so happy you're going with me to the dance." I lean in and kiss him. "So should I jump in the pile of leaves or leave it. Get it? Leave it?"

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head, then reaches out and wraps his cool fingers around mine. "Let's go where the leaves cease to cast their spell on you."