Chapter 3 #2
“I know it didn’t seem like it, but I was protecting you.” His voice deepened, harder now, almost like a growl. “Breaking things off with you was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I never really let you go. I couldn’t. That’s the only reason I took her letters. I had to know you were okay.”
Her pulse stuttered. Had he really thought he was being protective?
Watching over her like some Phantom of the Opera wannabe?
If that’s what he needed to tell himself, then fine.
But the fact was, he wasn’t there. He’d pushed her away.
That kind of devotion felt more like silk wrapped around a dagger than caring, no matter what he said or why he claimed to do it.
Tazzy curled her fingers around the dark little form on her lap and pressed it against her stomach. Lord Nightwing, formerly Sir Flaps-A-Lot. Her stuffie had gone through heartbreak with her. Lord Nightwing knew what it had done to her. Jaxon, on the other hand, did not.
That’s why Sir Flaps-A-Lot was now Lord Nightwing.
That’s why there was now an X sewn over one eye, and red satin lined his wings and ears.
She’d even sewn a broken heart on his chest so he would have one just like she did.
She went goth and tough, and Lord Nightwing got a skull hanging from his neck on a thick black chain.
Lord Nightwing had changed just like she had. He wasn’t soft or breakable anymore.
She moved Lord Nightwing up to her heart and hugged him. Jaxon’s eyes darted to him, and he stiffened. His voice was incredulous as he asked, “You still have… is that Sir Flaps-A-Lot?”
“He changed, just like me,” she said with a smirk, hugging her bat a little tighter. “It isn’t his fault you suck.”
He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Taziana.”
“Ooh, full name. Is that supposed to scare me?” The old reflex to mind her Daddy tried to snap into place, but she crushed it.
He wasn’t her Daddy, using her full name to warn her when she was close to trouble.
Back then, she’d stop or do whatever she needed to keep that from happening. But not anymore.
Jaxon seemed to have more to say, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lord Nightwing. “Your full name is supposed to alert you that something is wrong. And speaking of things being wrong... what the hell did you do to Sir Flaps-A-Lot?”
She tilted her head, acting as if she was examining the wings with exaggerated care to hide her grin. “His name is Lord Nightwing now. He’s… improved. Like me.”
Jaxon’s expression shifted to disbelief, reluctant amusement, and then something heavier.
Her soft, cuddly bat—the same one he’d won for her at the Tennessee State Fair when she was eighteen—was hers.
Lord Nightwing had stayed with her through every breakdown and crying jag, every disappointment, every rejection.
He was the only one she could talk to. So, when she decided to reinvent herself, she also reinvented her stuffie.
Jaxon seemed ready to lecture her about language and choices, about the sharpness in her tone. But all he could do was stare at Lord Nightwing... and her. Good. Let him see what he’d done to her.
When he reached for her stuffie, she thought he was going to take Lord Nightwing away from her.
Instead, he deliberately, gently, scratched Lord Nightwing’s new ears.
For some reason, Tazzy’s stomach fluttered, her nerves and excitement twisting together.
Damn it. How could she still respond to him?
“You’re ridiculous, Lord Nightwing,” he muttered to her bat, even as his fingers traced the heart and tiny chain. Still addressing Lord Nightwing, he said, “It seems you’ve been through a lot, little guy.”
Her grip tightened slightly, but warmth filled her chest. Lord Nightwing was more than a bat now. He was a bridge between who she had been and who she was.
“He’s been through worse than you think,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“So have you,” he said softly, letting the words hang there. And in that moment, Tazzy realized he was touching more than just the bat. His hand slipped over just enough so that whenever he stroked her stuffie he was running the tip of his finger across the bottom of her neckline.
Hurt, mixed with confusion and longing, welled up, hot and bitter. “You need to leave,” she said sharply. She had to get him out of there before she cracked. She couldn’t afford to let him in, to see how she felt.
He cocked his head as his gaze shifted from Lord Nightwing to her. “Sprite?”
“That name doesn’t fit me anymore. If you’re not going to use my name, call me…” She tried to think of a cool new pet name for herself, but her mind was blank. So, she winged it. “Call me… Darkling.”
Geez, she sucked at winging it. Darkling? Really? What was she, some kind of supervillain sidekick? But she’d said what she said, so she’d lean into it anyway.
He paused, studying her. “Darkling,” he repeated. Then something in his eyes changed. “I like it. I like the new you. It makes me feel like I’m not the only one who’s changed. All I want is for you to be happy, so if you like your new look, so do I.”
Taken aback, she studied him, trying to sense if he was humoring her. But there had been no mockery in his voice. No attempt to change her mind. Just... acceptance. That was new. That was dangerous.
Her chest tightened. “You… hurt me. It was either change or die.”
He nodded his head. “I know. But I promise, I only did what I had to. And I’m sorry it hurt you, little one.”
She scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh. “You’re sorry, well that makes everything okay, doesn’t it. So glad you got that off your chest. Now I want you to leave.”
She’d be quietly hiding under her bed, hoping lightning wouldn’t strike her for the big, fat lie she’d just told. But she had to do what she had to do. She couldn’t afford to make herself that vulnerable again, no matter how much she longed for him to hold her.
He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together and walked to the door. “I’m leaving for now, but I’ll be back. I have a signed contract. I’ll be your roommate until Elodie comes back.”
When he walked out, she rushed forward and locked the door behind him.
Argh! Of course, he wasn’t going anywhere. That would be the rational, sensible thing to do. How could the universe trap her with him like this?
Later, as she tried to sort through the remaining bills, Jaxon returned. Once again, he just walked in and made himself at home, settling into the living room with an ease that made her want to curse and laugh at the same time. Instead, she tried to ignore him.
But his presence was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help but notice his hard eyes scanning her dark, moody décor.
She couldn’t resist occasionally glancing over at him.
Every time she did, he was looking at her with those protective glances he used to always send her way, catching her even as she set boundaries to protect her heart.
“Darkling,” he murmured once, softly.
She flinched at the sound. Maybe the name fit more than she realized. Who did he think he was fooling? Why was he pretending he understood her now? “You’re still going to call me Sprite,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her irritation.
He smirked. “Not giving up that easily. Old habits die hard.”
She rolled her eyes, something she would never have done in his presence before.
She stopped herself before she reached down to rub her bottom in anticipation of the punishment that would have surely come at one time. When she thought about it, he’d always let her be whoever she wanted… but that didn’t mean he was letting go of who she’d been to him.
He was acting as if he’d been living here for years. No, like he’d never left. If only that were true.