Chapter 21

Steve's taken off running in the direction of the river. I race after him in the dark, passing all kinds of shifted monsters frolicking around—and an idle thought has me wondering if any of them are in my classes and I just don't recognize them. Then I slip and decide I need to focus on my footing, since my slick tux shoes are doing me no favors.

That was fucking scary. I knew Shuford were a bunch of dicks, but I didn't think they'd actually come to CU to, what, intimidate us?

On the other hand, it was hot AF to see Steve go ballistic.

Poor Steve. He doesn't realize that I've caught plenty of glimpses of him in his true form by now. I wish he'd let me see it more. I'd like to take it in, study it.

I plow through underbrush, shielding my face from random twigs, as I slip-slide my way down to the river. When I reach the bank, Steve's already splashing in the water, his body obscured by low-hanging branches that dip down to the surface of the river. Even in the shadows, though, the moon sheds enough light that I can make him out.

"Steve!" I bellow.

"Leave me alone," he yells back.

"No," I call, my voice breaking. "I need you. Come out, and come back to the room with me."

"I can't," he roars.

He's got his back to me, and for once his outline isn't shimmering. His dark shirt clings to his body, and I can't see his face.

I dive into the river, and I hear a yelp. "Brandon! No!"

But I don't listen. I swim over to him, even though the water is damn cold and my rented tux is likely ruined. I'll have to cut back on the nights out at Scareoke to pay for it.

When I reach my boyfriend, he turns away from me. He could easily elude me in the water, but he seems to have given up.

"Don't look at me like this," he whispers, covering his face with his hands.

"What makes you think that I won't like your true form?"

"Because it's … ugly."

I'm treading water, but I manage to put a hand on my hip and sigh. "Let me see."

"No."

"Steve. Stop hiding from me. Let me see you."

"You're going to hate me. You'll be repulsed. You'll never want to touch me again."

I reach out and put my hand on his arm. His skin is cool, but it's always cool.

Finally, he faces me, and I am shocked. But not for the reason he thinks.

Yes, he looks like a monster. His eyes are the same—entirely black, like a seal's, and his teeth are broken and yellow, with gray spots. His lips are gray-green, and he's got all kinds of mossy debris hanging off him. He's got long, gray nails on spindly fingers, and his palms seem waterlogged. His hair is longer in this form, and it lies in hanks across his shoulders and down his back. His skin is mottled greenish and dark gray, and his skin is rippled and pruney. His tongue darts out, and it's green-black. I'm amazed how clearly I can see him in the moonlight.

But I don't think he's ugly. Not by any means. His true form has a natural beauty all its own.

"Hey," I say quietly. "I like you in any form. This one, too."

He scoffs.

"Listen to me." I tug him closer, and despite his supernatural strength, he lets me. I like the way my skin looks against his. Like we're both part of nature. And I like the way he feels next to me, solid and cool.

We go toward the shallows where we can both stand. He's stopped trying to hide and is instead looking at me defiantly, like he's daring me to find something good about him. "You're just so damned cute," I say, and pull him to me for a kiss.

A surprised kiss, since this is clearly not what Steve had been thinking we were going to do. But he gets the hang of it soon enough, kissing me back with fervor.

He smells like Steve. This is my boyfriend. My true boyfriend.

My boyfriend with a green-onyx tongue.

When we break apart, Steve's gasping. "What the … Why did you do that?"

"Because I like you a whole damn lot, silly. No matter what form you're in. You don't have to be that emo Norwegian kid. You can just be you. I like you , not your body. Or, rather, I like that you can change it, but I like how it is originally, too. Don't worry so much, okay?"

He stares at me. "It's hard for me to believe you."

"I know, babe. But do me a favor. Just try."

Steve tilts his head. "Try?"

"Try believing me. I can't know your name. At least let me enjoy what you really look like. Because I think it's awesome."

He swallows hard and looks away, shaking his head, and my heart breaks for him. If only he could see what I see—that he's spectacular just the way he is.

"Try," I repeat.

Finally, he sighs. "All right, I will try. It just—I'm so used to people running away and screaming when they see me in my true form."

"Well, then they have no sense of decency or adventure." Steve rolls his eyes, but I ignore him. "When you're recharged, how about coming back and joining me in our bedroom. I need you."

"Ha ha," he says bitterly, but then he catches my expression. "You are serious."

"I am so fucking serious, boyfriend." I kiss him again. "I like you this way better, I think. Because I know it's the real you."

"I do not understand how that is possible."

"Stop the negative talk. Who is to say who is beautiful and who isn't? I think you're gorgeous inside and out. Why can't I be attracted to a monster? Especially one as kind and sweet and talented as you? Why?" I demand.

And before he can answer, I'm kissing him again.

Also …

I think we may be bound. Because somewhere, somehow, during some interaction, I gave him my heart. And I'm pretty sure he gave me his.

Well, if we're going to be bound, I need to know more about him.

"Hey," I say. "Will you teach me Norwegian?"

He stiffens at the non sequitur. "Why?"

"So I can talk with you in your native language, obviously."

"But that will take a long time."

"I want to be with you for a long time. Are you okay with that?"

He shrugs, which morphs into a nod, then a grin. "I'm very okay with that." He leans in and kisses me, this time less tentative. And, sure, he's mossy and has weird skin. But I love him. So what's the big deal?

He stares at me. "I … let us get back to the dorms."

One more kiss. "You got it. Just do me a favor and don't try to shift back."

Steve nods.

We're soaked, and it's damn cold, so we race back to the dorms past all the other frolicking students. When we get inside our room, I shove off my wet tuxedo and strip down fast, but Steve is still standing there in his Dread Pirate Roberts costume, looking away from me. He must be reacting to the artificial lights, which don't hide anything.

Naked, I move toward him carefully, not wanting to spook him. He looks me up and down with visible hunger.

"Baby," I say, "come take a shower with me."

He bites his lip. I wrap him in my arms and hold him close. His wet clothes are chilling me further, but I don't care.

Like he can't help himself, he grabs me by the ass and grips me tightly to him, his body shaking and shuddering. He's crying.

Oh, my heart.

"Steve," I whisper against his neck. "I will never willingly hurt you."

He sobs harder.

"There's something else I need to tell you. I love you. I am totally in love with you."

Steve's sobs turn into hiccups, and I begin taking off his wet costume. I start with the jacket, and then he helps me remove his boots. Half of the Lin River spills out on our floor, but it will dry.

When I get to the laces of his black shirt, I pause and look at his face. His monster-cute face. His sweet, natural coloring, complete with wrinkles and moss.

"Yeah. I love you," I say. Then I get his shirt off.

"I want to tell you my real name," he blurts. My heartbeat picks up.

"Yeah?" I get excited, but then I ask, "Wait, will it hurt you? Because there's no way I'm using your name if it's going to hurt you."

His cheeks go a darker shade of green. "If you use it when you're in love—when you're bonded—it won't. It's only if you use it with the intent to hurt someone that it can kill."

"Are you telling me …"

"That I love you? Yes. That we are bonded, because we have given each other our hearts? Yes."

I exhale. "Good. I think I fell in love with you sometime between the first time I saw your dark eyes and when you sang to me, so it's nice to know it's mutual." He kisses me. Then he takes a big breath, but I hold out my hand to stop him, saying, "I still don't like the idea of having that kind of power."

"I trust you."

He trusts me. I need to trust him, and maybe myself.

I nod and swallow hard. "Then I'm honored you're telling me."

"My real name is Calder Hemming. Calder means rough water. Hemming means shapeshifter."

Something inside me relaxes. "That's such a better name for you than Steve. You are not a Steve."

"I know."

I gulp. "I'm still scared to say it. I don't want to kill you."

"My love," Steve—Calder—says, "we are bonded. You have my heart, and I have yours, no?"

"You do."

"Then you can do it safely."

"Calder," I whisper, and he leans over and kisses me. A power like I have never felt zings through me at our kiss.

"Yes, Bran."

"I love you, Calder Hemming."

"And I love you, Brandon Fernandez. You now have power over me, but I like that you have it."

"But ‘Steve' is safer," I insist.

"Yes, when we are in public."

"I like knowing the real you. All of you."