Chapter 26
For a moment, once I’m parked in my driveway and the only sound is the drizzle of rain outside, I just…sit.
I’m exhausted, not only from what happened at the park and with Dr. Radley, but also from being at the animal hospital for five hours while Moro had scans, stitches, and enough pain meds for her to be drowsing in the back seat instead of whimpering like she was on the way there.
Warm wetness on my cheeks surprises me, and I reach up to wipe at the tears trailing down my face.
“I’m sorry, Moro,” I breathe quietly, though she doesn’t do more than tilt her head a little on the seat in acknowledgment of my words.
She’d been better than I could’ve ever expected her to be, when she was obviously in so much pain until they gave her an injection of something they promised would make her more comfortable.
Instead of getting out of the car, I lean forward, my forehead pressed to the steering wheel as I listen to the rain. Suddenly, the last few weeks seem darker, less innocuous. Less… fun. Maybe I’d been treating this like a game too, or at least not giving it the amount of caution that it deserved.
All I can wonder as I sit there, after having nearly lost my dog, is how could I have just accepted all of this so easily after finding out what Cairo is? More than that, after learning about what exists in the Cascade Mountains.
But what else am I supposed to do?
I can feel myself spiraling as I close my eyes, and I know all the grounding breaths in the world aren’t enough to get me where I need to be. There’s nothing I can do but let my mind run away with me, and allow the horrors of Bluebone Ridge, of Tyler, of Cairo to flood my brain.
Is it only luck that I’m still here?
Worse still is that in some ways I feel like Dr. Radley was right. I don’t take this seriously enough, and I’m not willing to see what Cairo is, or what he wants. Tyler certainly hadn’t denied anything when I brought it up to him.
Maybe I’m just an idiot.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that thought, and my mom certainly has said as much to me on more than one occasion by remarking on my ‘lack of common sense’ or ‘bad life skills.’ If everyone else is saying it, and my brain and body are convinced of it, is it true?
My heart sinks like a stone in my chest, and nausea sits heavy in my stomach, insidious and bloating instead of the sharp, clawing feelings I’ve had before.
This kind of dread is oppressive in its own way, and I’m not sure I can make myself get out of the car, when no part of me feels capable of doing more than this.
I can’t move.
I can barely breathe.
I need?—
The driver’s door opens suddenly, and I turn my head to see Cairo, soaked from the rain and staring down at me.
He just looks at me, though Moro’s soft whine of greeting and the thump of her tail get his attention quickly.
I can see the hesitation and the confusion on his face before he lets out a breath of his own and leans in to press his lips to my cheek in a surprisingly affectionate kiss.
“I’ll take care of you, little bird,” he murmurs, without asking what’s wrong.
He doesn’t even hesitate in opening the back door, and Moro lets him pick her up with only a weak whimper of protest.
“Just…be careful with her, okay?” I say in a too-small whisper that barely makes it past my lips. “Her neck and h-her ribs?—”
“I’ve got her,” Cairo promises me, striding through the rain after he closes the door to the back seat.
My door remains open, and the rain mists in enough to slowly re-soak my hair and clothes, leaving me shivering even though I can’t find the strength to do anything to stop it.
My eyes drift closed again, and I listen to my breathing that I can barely hear amidst the rain.
As usual, I don’t hear Cairo approach. Instead, I only realize he’s beside me when the rain stops hitting the side of my face and my hand that’s resting on the steering wheel. Opening one eye, I look up at him dully. “I’m coming.”
“I know.” But he leans down and, with about as much effort as he used to pick up Moro from the back seat, he pulls me into his arms until I’m cradled against his chest. His shirt is just as wet as mine, and he closes my door with his hip before turning and trudging toward my front door.
“I can walk.”
“I know,” he repeats calmly. There’s no judgment in his tone.
No disbelief. Just acceptance, and maybe a touch of relief.
My fingers curl in his wet shirt, and even though part of me wants to wiggle free and prove that I’m fine, I don’t.
I let him carry me up the stairs to my front porch, cracked and faded and a little questionable, before he easily pushes open the door and then closes it behind him once we’re in the living room.
But even then, he doesn’t put me down. Cairo carries me to the bedroom and past it, setting me down on the edge of the counter.
“You’re freezing.” Gently, he reaches up and pushes my wet hair back behind my ears to examine my face. “Little bird…” But Cairo trails off, like he’s not quite sure what to say.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I need to get you warmed up.”
I feel so numb as he tugs off my shirt, my bra, and my leggings, until I’m left only in my underwear on the counter and staring up at his gorgeous, dark-eyed face. Cairo smiles sweetly at me and turns away just to twist the knobs in the shower before coming back to lean against me.
“You’re okay, little bird,” he promises. “Everything is okay.”
“But—”
“No, whatever it is”—he turns to nose my cheek affectionately —“it’s okay.
It can wait until after I warm you up. Moro’s right there,” he adds, drawing my attention to my bed outside the door, where she’s sprawled out across the mattress like she owns it.
As I watch, Cairo strips off his wet shirt and jeans, leaving him naked and barefoot.
He looks so human.
The thought makes something curl inside me, and when he reaches for me I draw back a little, though I’m ashamed at the motion. Cairo’s lips only twitch in a soft smile, and he leans over me with his hands on the counter.
“I see I was wrong. We should talk now,” he observes, his dark eyes on mine. “What happened, little bird?”
“In chronological order, or order of severity?” I can’t help the sarcastic, witty response, and it earns a softer smile from him. A more genuine one.
“Either.”
“Chronological, then. No—” I close my eyes, hands gripping the counter next to both of his. “Just…I need to ask you something.”
He waits. Patiently, though I can almost feel a kind of tremor in him, like he’s expecting the worst and trying to brace himself for it.
“Are you trying to turn me into what you are?”
The question falls between us, and when he looks away, I wish I could take it back. More than anything, I want to grab the words out of the air and swallow them back down. I’d rather live with the uncertainty, I decide at that moment, than hear the answer when I’m not sure I’m going to like it.
But it’s too late for that now.
Cairo’s eyes flick toward Moro, and he tilts his head as if putting together the events of the day in his head, without my help.
“I knew you’d ask, eventually. Whether because you came up with it on your own, or…
” He touches my face again, lightly, with just the tips of his fingers. This time, I don’t flinch.
He’s still Cairo , after all.
“That’s a complicated answer. Because if I say no, then that would mean I don’t want to keep you forever.
But I’m not like him.” It’s clear who he means.
“I won’t trick you, or force you. I won’t kidnap you and make you dependent on me.
Or take you away from your life to make it seem like the one I can give you is the only option you have.
So…no, Fern. I’m not looking for ways to trick you or make you love me enough to give up anything and everything else.
But if something happened, and you did become like me, you became cursed like I am, well…
” His smile turns a little mischievous, and his dark eyes flicker with inner brilliance.
“I’d be lying if I said the thought made me unhappy.”
His honesty is enough. My shoulders drop, and without warning, I lean into him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his shoulder. I inhale his scent, every bit of his skin smelling like Cairo and not some indescribably horrible monster.
Because he’s still Cairo, even if he is cursed.
“We can go chronologically now,” I breathe.
“But shower first. Please.” The coldness is creeping into my nerve endings, and even his radiator-like heat isn’t enough to chase away the chill.
Without a word, Cairo picks me up, opens the shower door, and once I’m completely nude, he sets me down so I’m leaning against the wall under the spray.
When I try to move, however, he gives a soft noise of disapproval, gripping my hands and pushing them to the wall on either side of my hips.
“Stay,” Cairo breathes. “Let me take care of you, little bird. Let me show you all the ways I want you to be mine.”
“You have,” I remind him in a soft whisper as he crowds close to me, running his fingers through my hair so the hot water sinks to my scalp, chasing away the cold. “In the woods, in the cabin?—”
“There are so many ways I want to have you,” he interrupts. “Just because I’m a monster, doesn’t mean they’re all like that. Some of them…” He cups my face in his hands, pressing his face to mine. “Some of them are gentle, and sweet. Because you are a thing to be cherished and kept warm.”
My arms come up to twine around his neck, and he lets me.
I sigh as Cairo kisses me, and I find I really don’t mind his fangs as long as I’m careful with my tongue.
As sweet as he is, this kiss, like every other, is devouring.
He tastes every inch of space between my lips, swiping his tongue over mine and purring in delight.