17
KYLO
W e walked in silence until we made it to the nearest café. I guided Evie to a booth close to an exit, but also tucked into a corner. She visibly relaxed, staring at me imploringly as she slid onto the wooden seat across from me.
She wondered how I knew what would make her feel safest.
When the waiter approached, his eyes flashed. One of my sigils tingled in recognition, and we exchanged a silent exchange—his head bowing slightly with respect.
“Water, please,” I said to him. “And she’ll have the fruit platter and the egg and cheese sandwich.”
The man nodded. Evie’s rain cloud eyes locked on mine.
“Did you just order my food for me?” she asked, incredulous.
“I’ll be paying for it too.”
The man quickly returned with a carafe of water and two glasses. I filled one of them and passed it to Evie.
“Drink.”
Evie blushed furiously. “You can’t order me around.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird and—I don’t know. I can order and pay for my own food. I can take care of myself,” she protested.
I shrugged. “ Weird doesn’t bother me. And I know you can . But I enjoy doing it for you, and so do you.”
I could see it in her face. The relief, just as potent as her ripe suspicion. Evie had been desperately trying to make herself feel safe for a very long time.
But she was tired of running.
She wanted to be caught for once.
“Do you want something different from what I ordered?” I asked her.
She didn’t even glance at the menu, her eyes going in and out of focus. When nearby laughter boomed suddenly, the sound startled her.
“No, thank you,” she said, answering on autopilot, as if she hadn’t even heard the question.
When the food came, she slid back into herself.
“Are you not eating?” she asked.
“I’ve already had my fill.”
She squinted at me, slowly lifting a fork.
I smiled, training my gaze beyond her, on the painting of Etherdale’s cityscape hanging on the deep blue wall. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
When she sipped her water and swallowed her first bite of food, the tightness in my muscles began to unwind. Good girl.
“About nihilism being intellectually lazy. What a funny thing to say,” I said.
Evie’s lips curved, her eyes going soft and docile as if she was now hanging on my every word. She picked up her sandwich.
“Some nihilists write that meaninglessness only took root when the gods left our plane to rule the heavens and the underworld. They see nihilism as a punishment, as if the gods left us because they deemed us unworthy of meaning and purpose,” I said.
Evie’s shoulders relaxed. Her eyes, once on the verge of dissociation, sharpened again as she ate and listened.
“Instead of seeing magick and art as evidence of the gods’ presence in our lives, they see these expressions as beautiful distractions—a mirage to cover the unpleasant truth.”
“What truth?” she asked.
“That fate doesn’t exist. That the world and its magicks are ruled by power and illusion. That witchcraft and visioning are futile attempts to add color to a dismal reality of chaos and nothingness.” I paused. “The truth that we live and die alone.”
Evie blinked. Once. Twice.
Then she rolled her damn eyes.
“Yawn,” she said.
I laughed. “Yawn? Is that your final rebuttal?”
She nodded with a heart-melting grin. It was a victory that I felt in the deepest part of me.
“There is no objective reality. If you want to live in that one, be my guest,” she said, lifting her chin. “But you’re not going to infect me with that edgy, pessimistic nonsense.”
“No objective reality?”
She nodded. “When you commune with the spirit world—” She paused, quickly shutting her mouth as if she’d revealed something she shouldn’t have.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I know you’re not a green witch. You’re safe with me. You’re special, Evie.”
She took another sip of her water. Her eyes flashed on the words special , but her body language was protective, nervous. When she next spoke, it came out less fiery than before. “When you commune with the otherworld, you see it—that reality is ever-shifting. It’s not static. It’s not set. We decide reality. Everything is always in flux. The ether responds to us, and we respond to it; it’s an ecosystem of influence. If you believe the world has no meaning except power, the world—both in the spirit and physical dimensions—will respond and interact with you in accordance with that belief. You should never put such stringent limits on yourself. You talk, and the gods listen. You are the arbiter of your own destiny.”
She focused back on my eyes, quickly squirming in her seat and returning her focus to her food.
I watched her like I was seeing a flower bloom for the very first time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that probably sounded like nonsense. Maybe I don’t know anything. But that’s my reality.”
“I already told you that I believe reality is malleable,” I said gently. “It’s no wonder that the most famous nihilists were human. It’s easier to shun what you cannot perceive with your own physical senses.”
Evie nodded. Her features relaxed slightly.
“Don’t ever apologize for that beautiful mind of yours, angel,” I said. “Or the consequences will be grave.”
Her mouth parted, mind whirring. “Are you threatening me? For apologizing ?”
“Correct. You’re such a good listener,” I praised, leaning forward as my gaze snagged on her perfect lips.
I wanted to lick that tiny droplet of water that stuck to her cupid’s bow. When her own tongue darted out to snatch it, I had the ungodly urge to pull her into my lap and suck that pretty pink tongue into my mouth.
I wanted to more than taste her. I wanted to devour her.
I wanted to take her sweetness, her innocence, and forever taint it with my unholy marks of depravity.
I was going to ruin her for all other men.
And if my possessiveness was unhinged now… I knew that when I finally claimed Evie, no man would so much as breathe in her direction in a way I didn’t like without finding his hands removed from his body.
Who was I kidding? That was already true.
“Thank you,” Evie said after I’d paid for her meal. Her voice was tinged with discomfort, as if I’d bought her an entire house.
“You can thank me by letting me take you out. Properly, next time,” I said. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request.
Evie nodded like my perfect, good girl. “Okay.”
We both knew she had no other choice. She’d never met someone like me. I was the antidote to her deepest, most painful wounds and yearnings. I was everything she feared. Everything she despised.
Everything she needed to finally feel safe and protected.
She would never be alone again.