9. Maisie

Chapter nine

Maisie

What did I do wrong?

Everything was going so well. Better than “well.” I hadn’t realized how much I wanted Barnaby until I had him, and then it took over completely.

And he wanted me, too. That much was clear in the way he kissed me, how his boner had not-so-gently nudged at my stomach. That had sent ripple after ripple of desire straight from my throat to my crotch, imagining what he might do with it.

But then… something happened, and I wish I knew what. Did I move too quickly? Did I offend him somehow?

I collapse on the couch, which I realize now smells of Barnaby, too, and cry harder.

I’m such a whiny fucking baby.

Finally, I wind down to a few miserable sniffles, getting snot all over my wrist when I try to wipe my face. When I peer at myself in the bathroom mirror, I find my eyes puffy from crying and my lips swollen from how fiercely Barnaby kissed me.

Of course he ran. My face is beet red and my hair is wildly mussed. I look like a train wreck.

Pledging to myself that I won’t cry again, I brush my teeth, dress in my pajamas, and climb into bed, feeling like the shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

The next morning, I lie in bed for hours, watching the sun rise and pass overhead through the window. Eventually I get up because my stomach is roaring for food, so I pull some orange juice out of the fridge and smash a grocery store muffin. Then I sink down into one of my chairs, the same one where I sat last night when Barnaby kissed me.

I groan and drop my forehead to the table. What a mess. I kissed my landlord, like a fucking idiot, and I still have to deal with him.

After moping, I drag myself out of the apartment and carefully avoid the bookstore. I don’t have the energy to go on a hike, and the air is even hotter today than it was yesterday. Instead, I meander down Main Street, stepping into the flower shop to smell the sweet aroma of the plants, browsing the boutique—anything I can do to keep my mind off what happened last night, and how Barnaby ran from my apartment like his feet were on fire .

I rack my brains trying to figure out what I did wrong, what misstep I took, that interrupted what had been so fiery and wonderful between us only a moment before.

And then, I start to feel angry.

He couldn’t have at least held a conversation with me? He’d simply apologized over and over, then left. Wasn’t I owed at least some explanation?

When I head back home after having a rather pathetic solo dinner at the diner, I stop in front of the bookstore. I’m still sad, yes, but now I’m pissed off, too.

And I want Barnaby to know it.

He’s inside the shop, holding a book but not reading it. He appears to be staring at the wall and doesn’t even notice me standing there. Then, as if he can feel my eyes on him, his head abruptly turns to look at me.

His eyes widen, and a frown pulls down the sides of his thin mouth. He doesn’t wave or usher me in. We simply stare at each other through the glass, and my anger rises higher and higher as he does nothing.

Feeling ferocious and clawed, I flip him the bird.

The second I do it, I turn around and sprint back to my apartment. I slam the door behind me and run up the stairs as fast as I can, wondering what came over me.

I just flipped off Barnaby Hallow, a two-hundred-year-old vampire, because he didn’t want to make out with me.

God, I’m such an idiot.

Barnaby

I continue staring out the window long after she’s gone, dumbfounded.

Fuck you .

That’s what the look on her face said, even if her hand hadn’t done the trick.

But it was a good thing I’d left when I did last night. I’d raced around to the back of the shop, my fangs protruding from my lips, my cock aching. There, hidden from the apartment upstairs, I finally gave in and let my true form take over.

I hate the way my bones creak as it stretches me, as they seize and grow inside my skin. It’s always painful to become him, to turn into the monster that isn’t in any of the history books.

Because people who see it never live to tell the tale.

Eight feet tall and equipped with massive wings, I took off into the air, still fully erect from the memory of Maisie’s lips. I didn’t get far before I was forced to handle it, and beating my wings high above the cove, I stroked my cock over and over before easily meeting my finish.

It felt like a lewd, disgusting act, thinking of her while I did it—like a violation. But it also felt so, so good, and a release I desperately needed after how hungry Maisie had made me.

That night, reading next to my fire brought me no pleasure. I abandoned it early to retreat to my coffin, where I spent many hours remembering the sound of Maisie’s little whimpers and moans as I kissed her and touched her all over.

I expected not to see her the next day, and now I wish I had never gone up to her apartment. I’d come to enjoy her company, but I doubt she will grace me with it again.

Maisie flipping me off through the store window was the last thing I expected after I left her in tears. She is sweet and full of emotions, but apparently she can be vicious, too.

I suppose that anger is better than sadness. Perhaps it will sustain her until she receives the results of the investigation and can finally go home.

Tomorrow the shop will be closed, so I’ll have no reason to come near her. Besides, I need to return my bottles to the butcher, Beau, and pick up a fresh batch of cow’s blood. Perhaps it’s like drinking pond water, but it sustains me, and that’s the best I can ask for in this world.

I go to bed fantasizing about what Maisie’s blood would taste like and how her soft body would feel underneath me.

My two days away from the bookstore drag past. Adeline visits to tidy and dust, as she does every other day. Together we restock the firewood, because heavy lifting is much easier for me than it is for her. That is the singular benefit of my true form, I suppose—it grants me abilities such as these even when I’m human.

As I sit at the kitchen island drinking some especially fetid-tasting blood, Adeline pauses in the doorway. Though she is older than I am by a hundred years, she still looks to be in her mid-thirties, with long hair that she keeps pulled back in a tight bun. Even when she comes to my home to clean, she wears very little in the way of clothes, as many creatures of the forest are wont to do.

“Something is different about you today,” Adeline says, arching one eyebrow. “What’s changed?”

I frown. “Nothing has changed.”

She surveys me critically, and I don’t think she believes me for even a moment. How does she know about Maisie? Nymphs are insightful and can sometimes even leech emotions from those near them, but surely I’ve hidden my bubbling feelings better than that.

“Mr. Hallow.” Adeline sits down at the stool on the other side of the island from me. “I have served you for nearly fifty years, and I’ve never sensed trepidation in you as I am sensing it now.”

Fucking wood nymphs.

“It’s personal,” I say, more snappishly than I intend, so I sigh and shake my head. “Apologies, Adeline. But I have found myself in a strange situation, and I don’t know if I’m enough of a man anymore to navigate it.”

She cocks her head. “You are fully a man still, Mr. Hallow, so I’m not sure what you mean.”

I sigh as I rub my temples. I know Adeline well now, and she will not let this rest until I tell her the truth .

“There is… a woman,” I say, forcing the words out, “who has moved into the apartment above the bookstore.”

Adeline nods, encouraging me to continue.

“I made the mistake of growing closer with her. I believe we share an affection for one another.”

When I fall silent, she leans forward. “And? I fail to see the problem if she returns your feelings.”

“That is the problem,” I snarl. “You know what hides inside me, Adeline. You know about the monster that could emerge. I would harm her. I would want to drink from her. And you know she would flee, screaming, if she saw it.”

I have shown my true form to my housekeeper once in the past, and even though she is supernatural, too, it surprised her.

“You don’t know that,” Adeline says. “You’re making decisions based on assumptions.”

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “She is an average human mortal. And I don’t know what the creature would do to her.”

“The creature is you, Mr. Hallow.” She rises from her stool. “It’s not separate. You have spent many mortal lifetimes honing your control. I doubt that you would hurt her.”

“How can you possibly assure me of that?” I snap, unable to hide my irritation. If it were so easy, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“I can’t assure you of anything, of course.” She shrugs as if this is a moot point. “But if you truly share an affection with her, perhaps you should let her at least make the choice for herself, rather than making it for her. It’s not fair to you or to her to deny yourself every pleasure. You deserve happiness, too.”

But I don’t. Not after what I did with the coven. I will never deserve happiness after the misery I wrought on others.

“Thank you for your advice,” I say in a clipped voice. Adeline sighs and nods, understanding that the conversation is over, and leaves the room to finish her chores.

What would Maisie do if she saw my true form? I don’t know if I could bear her running away screaming.

But what if she didn’t?