15. Curses and lies
CURSES AND LIES
Lor
A relentless, angry meowing rouses us from our sex-drunk stupors an indiscernible amount of time later. I groan and stretch as Ro does the same beside me, then I get up to open the door. The cat isn’t going to stop yelling until it gets its way, so I might as well let it in.
“Oh, hello Kahlo,” Ro says, sauntering over to crouch down by the cat.
I do a double take. Kahlo? When did that happen?
“Did you name my cat?”
“Thought they weren’t your cat.”
Ro smirks and the cat, Kahlo apparently, presses into his palm. I narrow my eyes, a daring thread of betrayal stinging my chest.
“Fine, they’re my cat.”
I jerk my shirt over my head and search for my shorts before remembering Ro literally tore them off of me. Arousal zings between my legs at the memory and I huff. Too many emotions.
“I can’t believe you ruined my shorts.”
Ro stands and picks up his own shirt. “I can buy you a new pair, if you want.”
He’s still smirking. A proud, crooked tilt to his lips. He can’t tell how much that turned me on, can he? I glance down at my hard nipples and wrinkle my nose. He probably can.
I slip past him, aiming for the kitchen for some water as he meanders after me.
I need to cool down and get a grip on this situation.
Mostly, I need to get Ro out of my apartment so I can process what exactly just happened.
And figure out how to eliminate the desire to do it again…
That was supposed to get it out of my system, so why do I want him even more now?
“Come on, Kahlo.” Ro sits on the couch and pats his leg, and the cat comes trotting down the hallway to jump up on his lap.
Ro grins in delight, then turns his happy face up to me.
“Looks like you have a cat named Kahlo now.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s impossible to be grumpy around Ro, he’s just so goddamn cheerful about everything. I give in and let one side of my mouth tip up in response.
“I guess I do.”
The days pass much the same after that, minus the mind blowing sex. I ignore the urge to jump on Ro’s dick every time he shows up unannounced, and every time he follows me on his bike, and every time he grins at me from behind the bar.
All of which only serves to make me more and more cranky.
Ro seems perfectly happy to just be around me, and I can’t tell if he truly feels that way, or if he still feels the tension between us, too. I hate thinking that it might just be me, but I need to remember this distance is for the best.
He’s too good to get caught up in the dark underworld that is my life.
I’m currently sitting on my bed, reminding myself why a relationship is a bad idea, and it’s really putting a damper on my already abysmal mood.
I’m flipping through my grandmother’s journal, reading about her experience as a star-chaser.
She died at fifty, when my mom, Renée, was only twenty-two.
My mom had me later that same year, so I never met my grandmother.
As usual in our family, the men are absent, so there are no known fathers or grandfathers in my history.
My grandma’s journal entries are depressing but enlightening, and they’re a good reminder of what my future holds. Eventual madness, insanity, losing my mind… Whatever you want to call it.
I used to hope there was a way to avoid it, but I’ve given up on that childish dream. It’s one of the only things my mom was consistent on. She may not have really been there for me growing up, constantly moving us around and using drugs to cope with her curse, but she was adamant about this.
All Seren’s go mad.
We also tend to die young, and the thought lights a brief flare of concern for my mom. She’s fifty-one this year, and I haven’t heard from her in months. That’s not unusual for us, though, so I hope she’s alright. As alright as any of the women in our family can be, anyway.
I’m flipping through the pages, skimming the later journal entries that get progressively more indecipherable as the madness sets in, when Ro’s signature cheerful knock sounds on my door. A quick double tap, pause, single knock, pause, double tap.
I flip the journal closed, letting it slide from my lap as I stand to let him in.
Kahlo comes running down the hallway after me, and I roll my eyes at the little beast. The traitor definitely likes him better than me.
I open the door, my chest feeling lighter as soon as Ro bounces into my apartment.
“Hey, Starfire,” he says, and my face heats at the strange endearment. Then he turns to the cat. “Kahlo!”
He drops to the floor and Kahlo instantly starts purring, rubbing their chin along Ro’s arm and knee.
I close the door behind him and turn to the kitchen, then stare at my too-empty pantry. I don’t have many options, but I haven’t eaten yet today, so I need something. Ro wanders up behind me and drops his chin on my shoulder. His breath feathers over my neck, and I suppress a shiver.
“Oooh, mac and cheese!” he says. “I haven’t had that in ages.”
Ro reaches around, one arm on either side of my body as he leans into my back to rummage through the pantry.
His warmth sinks into me, and I’ve never been so aware of the contrast as my muscles turn to jelly while my nerves alight against him.
Ro pulls the box of macaroni from the cupboard, then starts opening and closing others as if he hasn’t already explored every inch of my kitchen and doesn’t know exactly where my single pot is.
I put my hands on my hips and wait. Sure enough, he glances at me, mischief dancing in his eyes as he pulls open another incorrect cupboard.
Then he starts whistling.
I twist my mouth to the side to hold in my smile as he finally pulls out the correct pot and fills it with water. He sets it on the stove, then spins around to face me.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” he says, shoving a hand in his front pocket.
I raise my eyebrows and his grin somehow spreads wider when he pulls out a bright pink cat toy.
“I got Kahlo a new toy!”
I hate the way my chest clenches and heart skips at how excited he is to play with kind-of-my cat.
“Kahlo, ps-ps-ps,” Ro says, dropping to the floor and crawling to peek around the corner.
Now my heart is pounding for a whole different reason. What would he look like crawling to me? With no—nope.
Not going there.
I mentally kick myself and turn around, refusing to take in the cuteness that is Ro, an actual demon, playing with my demonic cat. That must be why they get along so well, there’s no other explanation.
Soon I’m stirring butter and powdered cheese into the noodles, then looking around for Ro.
“Ro?” I call, taking the pot off the heat before stepping into the hallway.
My bedroom door is open, and I roll my eyes. He’s probably poking through my dresser or something. I step into the room, and my stomach drops when I see him sitting on my bed with my grandmother’s journal.
“Ro!” I sprint to his side and snatch the journal from his hands, snapping it closed. Terror pounds through me. Did he read it? Does he know my secret? Is he going to try to use me, too? Or… leave?
“What are you doing?” I yell, my voice unnaturally loud in the small space. I back away, chest heaving as I stare at him.
Ro holds his hands up, eyes wide as he leans away from my outburst.
“Whoa, I, uh, I’m sorry,” he says, stammering. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You had my journal!” I clutch the journal to my stomach and his eyes drop to it, then return to mine. He looks taken aback by my reaction, but what did he expect? Journals are private, even a demon should know that’s not okay.
“I didn’t realize it was your journal, I won’t look again.”
He sounds contrite, his voice smaller than I’ve ever heard it, and full of remorse.
I eye him, taking in his tense shoulders, the wide eyes and shallow breaths. Either he saw and is ready to bolt, or he didn’t and is scared I’ll kick him out. I take a slow breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
I need to know.
“What did you see?” I ask, trying for a neutral tone.
“Nothing, I swear, I was just flipping through. I didn’t read a word of it.”
I pinch my lips as I stare at him, wishing I could tell if he was being truthful or not. Ro slumps under my glare, deflating as he sinks to the floor and leans against the side of the bed.
“I won’t touch it again. I’d never read your personal journal.
I know I’m not the best at boundaries, but this is one I wouldn’t cross.
It just looked like an old book, I…” he trails off, looking down at his hands.
His knuckles are white where he’s clenching them together. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
I let the silence sit as my anger and fear dissipate. He’s not running, so… What does that mean? Did he really not read it? I slide down to the floor, sitting against the wall a few feet away from him.
“It’s not my journal, it’s my grandmother’s,” I say quietly.
Ro glances up at me, sorrowful eyes framed by long lashes made more dramatic by the dark eyeliner he wears. He nods, but doesn’t reply. Despite the disruption he’s been in my life, my heart pangs when I think about losing him. It couldn’t hurt to give him a second chance, could it?
My thoughts tumble from one to the next as I try to pull apart his essence, figure out what to do, how best to protect myself. Let him in, and risk my life and his? Or force him to go, risking my heart and budding happiness instead?
His gaze drops from mine, resigned, and the threat of losing more than just his eyes on me pushes me over the edge.
“You still hungry?” I say. “Mac is done.”
“Yeah!” Ro’s head shoots up, and he offers me a tentative grin.
I try to return it, but it feels unsteady on my face. I stand and offer him a hand up. His smile turns softer, more genuine as he takes my hand
Before I know it, he’s back to his usual bubbly self.
Despite my reaction and whatever damning evidence he may have seen in the journal, he doesn’t treat me any differently.
I dare to hope he may have been telling the truth, that he really didn’t read anything.
I’m rinsing my bowl, considering that possibility, when it happens.
A lurch in my gut that turns to a relentless pull. It’s undeniable, stronger than usual, and I drop the bowl with a clatter.
“Hey, you okay?”
Ro appears over my shoulder, reaching around me to pick the bowl up from the sink and place it in the dishwasher.
I cringe and take a breath, hating for him to see me so vulnerable, then nod.
My thoughts are spinning as I try to tell the curse in my blood that I’ll go—to get it to lessen for just a moment so I can grab what I need.
“Yeah. But, um. I have to go,” I say to Ro. I’m short of breath and a light sweat breaks out on my forehead.
“Okay,” he says, placing his bowl next to mine in the top rack. It gives me a moment to compose myself before he turns around and asks with far too much excitement, “Are we going on a ride?”
“We?” I’m distracted, searching for my keys as I stuff my fabric stardust bag into my backpack.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be together if you don’t want it to be, but you know I’ll be behind you either way.” Ro winks as he says it and I freeze, one hand shoved deep into my backpack.
My cheeks flush as my mind screeches to a halt. What did he just say? What is he talking about? My eyes are stuck on his cheeky grin, the wink throwing me off, and now he’s tonguing his lip ring again.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Starfire,” Ro says. “Although, I’m not opposed to being behind you in that way, either.”
I blink, then my face blazes even hotter. I’m sure my neck is splotchy at this point, and I refuse to continue whatever nonsense is happening right now. I spin on my heel and wrench the door open, stomping out to my bike as Ro cackles behind me.
I can’t stop thinking about his offer, if that’s what it even was. I know I said just once, but the fact that he’s here, behind me, and apparently still wants me too, is lighting my nerves on fire.
If only it weren’t for this aching pull. And the uncertainty of what he might have read.
As I speed down the highway, it feels like my soul is being ripped away, with my body trailing behind it like a shadow.
I’m frantic, ready to sprint to the impact site, but I’m not there yet.
I take deep breaths, telling myself I’ll be there soon, trying to calm the incessant ache that’s threatening to turn my sight fuzzy.