9. Gordy
Chapter 9
Gordy
Alice is curled beside me, her body warm and soft against mine, her curls tangled with my snakes like she’s part of the hive now. One of them is snoring softly near her temple. Another is still draped dramatically across her chest like she’s their favorite fainting couch.
None of them are retreating.
And me—hell, I’m wrecked. Emotionally, physically, cosmically wrecked.
Her legs are tangled with mine. Her fingers twitch against my stomach as if she’s not quite done touching me even while sleeping. And for the first time in forever, I feel completely, stupidly safe .
“You okay?” I murmur as she blinks open her eyes. My voice is low and scratchy. Like I’ve swallowed gravel and honey and whispered confessions into the dark.
She smiles sleepily at the ceiling, like she sees constellations up there. “Mmm. I can’t feel my legs, my thighs are vibrating like a phone on silent, and I’m pretty sure I high-fived a snake with my vagina.”
I huff out a laugh—an actual laugh —and the sound surprises me. It feels foreign. Joyful. New.
“That’s… not medically possible,” I say, muffling my words against her collarbone. She smells like magic and sweat and bakery sugar, and I’d like to live in that scent forever.
“I don’t know, Gordy. He was very involved.”
Sheila lifts her head, blinking slowly at Alice like she’s deeply impressed and mildly judging. Then she hisses. Soft. Smug.
Alice gives her a salute. “Appreciate the support, Sheila. ”
I groan into her shoulder. “You’re still calling her Sheila?”
“She earned the name,” Alice replies, grinning. “She’s part of the team now. Team‘Wreck Alice’s Entire Nervous System Through Passion and Unrelenting Gorgon Goodness.’”
“You need shorter team names.”
She rolls toward me and cups my cheek, her thumb brushing through the stubble there like she’s mapping me, learning me, memorizing every scar and soft spot. I go still. Watch her watching me.
And when she speaks—soft, serious, eyes gleaming—something in my chest comes undone.
“I meant it,” she whispers. “Earlier. I wanted it to be you. Firsts are weird and messy and full of pressure. But with you? It felt right. Like… I was waiting for this without even realizing it.”
Gods.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman, this magic, this moment, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how much she matters. How much she wrecked me—in the best way.
“I didn’t want to be with anyone after I changed,” I tell her, barely breathing. “Since I became… this.”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. She simply traces her thumb over my lips and murmurs, “ This is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
And then she kisses me.
Slow. Sweet. Sleepy.
Like we’ve got nowhere to be and a lifetime to be there together.
Then her stomach gurgles like a baby dragon trying to escape a treasure chest.
We both freeze.
Alice groans. “Was that me or one of your snakes?”
“Hard to say.” I grin. “Could’ve been Sheila. She’s very food-motivated.”
I sit up and stretch, snakes yawning with me. One curls lazily around my shoulder like it’s settling in for a sitcom .
“Stay here,” I order, scanning the room for where my jeans launched themselves during the chaos. “I’ll get us snacks.”
“You keep post-sex snacks on hand?”
“Sweetheart, I have all kinds of food. Even cupcakes. I’m not a monster.”
Alice flops onto her back, sighing like a cat in a sunbeam. “You kind of are. But in the best way.”
I pad into the kitchen, still a little dazed, still half-hard and fully in the moment. My snakes slither around me, sluggish and satisfied, like a Greek god version of a conga line.
I rummage in the fridge. I have leftover chocolate cupcakes, half a chocolate croissant, and one suspicious container that may or may not contain sentient jam.
I return with the cupcakes and a glass of cold orange juice, which I immediately regret offering because nothing ruins post-orgasm bliss like citrus pulp.
Alice accepts the cupcake like it’s a crown. I climb back into bed, crumbs already getting everywhere, and curl around her like she’s the last safe place on earth.
She leans into me without hesitation. Limbs tangled. Hair everywhere. One of my snakes tries to steal her cupcake. She bats it away like a seasoned pro.
And I think, this—this is the chapter I never saw coming. The one after the curse, after the loneliness, after the long dark.
Alice.
In my bed, in my arms, in my ridiculous snake-filled life.
Home.
“Hey, Gordy?” she murmurs, eyes drifting shut now she’s inhaled the cupcake.
“Yeah?”
“If I die tonight, tell the tabloids it was death by orgasm, and I regret nothing.”
I snort, tucking her closer. “Sheila says you’re dramatic.”
“Sheila’s just jealous. ”
I chuckle again, head on her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
“You’ve got a lot going on in here,” I whisper, tapping her forehead.
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she reaches between us to grasp my rapidly hardening cock. “And you’ve got a lot going on down here.”
I groan, rolling her onto her back. “You trying to kill me for real this time?” I murmur, kissing down her throat.
Her legs wrap around my waist. “I’ll make sure you die with a smile on your face,” she breathes, nails grazing my shoulders.
I slide into her slowly, and her mouth parts with a soft gasp—like we’re starting something sacred all over again. No rush this time. No frenzy. Just the quiet ache of wanting, the sweetness of acceptance. We move together like we’re finishing a story we started earlier, one only our bodies know.
Her fingers lace with mine. My snakes lazily nuzzle her cheeks. And in that hush between moans and murmurs, we fall into each other again—deeper this time .
Afterward, I hold her close, tracing lazy circles on her back. I lean over and kiss her gently, grateful for this moment of pure connection. I open my eyes to find hers staring into mine, deep pools of blue reflecting a shared wonder.
“Wow,” she breathes, voice soft as starlight. “It gets even better. Who knew?”
“I think we really will end up killing each other with pleasure,” I say, attempting levity—but my voice wobbles on the edge. I’m unraveling. I can feel it.
She laughs—warm, real, a little hoarse—and gods, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
And maybe that’s the problem.
Because when I pull her closer, when her skin brushes mine, and I catch her looking at me like I’m everything ?—
Something inside me breaks .
Not from pain. From love.
Too much of it .
I look at her. A second too long. A fraction past safe. Past reason.
She’s glowing in the soft light, her hair wild against my pillow, her cheeks flushed from the aftermath of everything we’ve shared. Her eyes—gods, her eyes—are soft and open and unguarded.
And it wrecks me.
Because she’s not just beautiful. She’s mine .
And suddenly, that love becomes terror.
The panic comes fast, like a wave slamming against my ribs. A choking, howling kind of fear that I’ll lose her. That I’ll hurt her. That this— us —can’t be real.
My snakes twist violently, hissing and writhing with agitation. I try to calm them— shh, not now, not her —but they’re responding to me. To my storm.
No, no, no.
Her expression shifts, confused, concerned. “Gordy? ”
“Alice, don’t move,” I say, the words slicing through the air with urgency.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, confusion lacing her tone.
I open my mouth to answer, to tell her I’m fine, that everything’s fine—but I can’t. My voice has vanished. My heart is a snare drum in my chest. And my gaze is locked on hers, burning with everything I never knew how to say out loud.
And in that heartbeat?—
She turns to stone.
Her body freezes beneath mine, lips parted, eyes wide with shock and the last second of being alive in motion.
And then—silence.
Weight.
Stillness.
Like the world has held its breath and decided not to exhale.
“No,” I whisper, already reaching for her face. “No, no, Alice—come back, come back, come back ?— ”
My cry is a guttural sound of despair. My shaking hands hover above her, afraid to touch, to confirm the reality that has unfolded in mere seconds.
She’s beautiful still, a marble statue with deep-blue sapphires for eyes, carved by a cruel artist who captured her last moment of life with merciless clarity.
But her skin is cool stone beneath my fingertips. Her hair, caught mid-curl, no longer shifts in the air. Even Sheila recoils, hissing in horror and grief.
I did this.
I looked at her. I loved her too hard. And now…
She’s gone.
And I’m still here.
Still breathing.
Still cursed.
Still poison.
“Please,” I rasp, pressing my forehead to hers. “Please forgive me. Please come back.”
But the statue in my arms does not speak .
And at that moment, I realize what real fear is.
Not the curse. Not the transformation. Not even death.
It’s love.
Love that burns too bright. Love that makes monsters out of men.
And I would give anything— anything —to undo this.
To hear her laugh.
To love her without breaking her.
I’m on my feet in a flash, the warmth of our earlier intimacies replaced by an icy dread that seizes my heart. The sight of Alice, still and silent in her stony prison, is like a knife to my gut. Panic claws at me, but I push it down. There has to be a cure, a reversal spell, anything.
“Stay with me, Al,” I whisper, even though the words can’t reach her now. “I’ll fix this.”
I burst through the doors of my private library, a sanctuary crammed with ancient scrolls and dusty tomes. I scan the spines, looking for titles that promise hope. Books on alchemy, enchantments, and forbidden magic. I yank them from the shelves, the pages fluttering wildly as I search for something, anything, to undo what my cursed blood has wrought.
“Come on, there has to be something,” I mutter to myself, my voice laced with the gravity of the situation. Fuck, I feel so hollow and useless.
The room fills with the scent of burning sage and juniper as I try every ritual I know. I chant incantations until my voice grows hoarse, but the only answer I receive is the echo of my desperation. Not a single leaf or twig catalyzes the miracle I need.
“Damn it!” I slam a heavy grimoire shut, its dust puffing into the air like a mockery of my efforts. This can’t be happening. Not when I’ve just found someone who makes me feel… human.
Turning back to Alice, my heart clenches at the sight of her frozen figure. She’s a picture of eternal grace, yet so utterly untouchable. I kneel beside her, tracing the outline of her stone cheek with a trembling hand.
“Al, I am so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking .
The silence that follows is deafening. Her presence, once vibrant and warm, is now nothing more than a memory carved in rock.
“Please,” I plead to the universe, to any deity that might be listening, “give her back to me.”
But the room remains still, save for the soft hiss of my serpentine hair echoing my despair. And as the hours drag on, the weight of my newfound loneliness settles heavily upon my shoulders. Alice, my curious, chestnut-haired enigma, might be gone forever, an endless void where her laughter used to be.
I pace the room, my snakes writhing in agitation. Who can I call? Her parents are out of the question. They’d probably stake me on the spot for sleeping with their daughter and turning her into a lawn ornament.
“Think, Gordy, think,” I mutter to myself. Alice lies there, silent and still, her hair now a cascade of tiger’s eye stone. How did a night that started with so much promise end up like this?
“Al,” I say, though I know she can’t answer, “if you can hear me, I swear I’m trying to fix this.”
My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms. Can she see me losing it? Is she in there, mentally rolling those dark blue eyes at my pathetic attempts to save her? Or worse, is she scared? Alone? Locked in an internal scream no one can hear?
“Come on, Gordon,” I chide, attempting some of that humor she usually appreciates. “Turning your date into a statue? That’s one way to make sure she sticks around, right?”
The joke falls flat in the empty room. No witty retort from Alice, only silence.
“Damn it!” I kick at the leg of the desk, the sting of pain shooting through my toe a welcome distraction from the helplessness threatening to consume me. I need to do something, anything.
“Okay, okay. What are our options? You’re a gorgon, not an idiot. Think!” I run a hand through my hair, or rather, over the heads of my snakes, careful not to tangle them. “Magic has rules. And exceptions. There’s always a loophole.”
But what is it? What am I missing? I scan the room, my gaze landing once more on Alice’s petrified form. “You might be stuck like this because of me, but I’ll move heaven and earth to bring you back. That’s a promise.”
I lean in close, as if proximity can somehow bridge the gap between us. “Hang in there, Al,” I whisper against her cold, stone ear. “I’ll figure this out.”