Chapter 17 Aurora #2
Ezra rounds the bed, his hands up while his shadows coil at his back, flickering with unease. They’re bracing for rejection, too.
“This isn’t what it looks like, Aurora. I promise. Y-you were screaming in your sleep, clawing at your neck. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, you would cause further harm to yourself. I’m so sorry. If you want me to leave, I will.”
My knees hit the floor, a violent sob ripping from my chest.
My body folds in on itself, too tight, too small, too fucking broken.
My sobs collapse into screams. No words. Just broken sounds tearing out of me.
Jameson is gone, but what he took from me lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind, warping my own reflection. I can’t even trust what I see anymore.
My screams fade into ragged, broken breaths.
The silence that follows isn’t soft. It’s swollen and tender, my screams still clinging to the walls.
He’s gone. Of course, he’s gone.
But when I finally force my eyes open, Ezra is still there, sitting on the floor.
Not close. Not far. Just waiting.
A hesitant smile ghosts across his lips. He seems uncertain, maybe a little shy. Like one wrong move might shatter whatever trust I have left.
“Are you well, Aurora?”
His head cocks to the side, reminding me of his strange canine form.
“No. But I’m sorry I lost my temper, Ezra. That dream was so vivid.”
Shit. It feels like I deep-throated a cactus and chased it with battery acid. I’m still curled up in a tight ball on the floor and my body feels so heavy I’m not sure I can even stand.
“There is no need to apologize, Aurora. Perhaps my method of restraining you was a bit aggressive, but you were bleeding, and I was … scared.”
“I understand, Ezra. Thank you for staying with me. I should probably get back to bed.”
I push off the floor but only succeed in lifting the upper half of my body. I’m out of breath and my arms shake with the effort of keeping myself upright.
“W-would you like some help, Aurora? Maybe a hand? Or I could carry you?”
The thought of standing on my own makes me feel woozy. Walking sounds like a goddamn nightmare.
“Would you carry me, please?”
“Whatever you need, Aurora.”
Ezra rises slowly, clearly afraid that one wrong step might shatter what’s left of me.
“I’m going to place one of my arms under your knees and the other under your back. Then I will lift you, place you on the bed, and cover you up.”
He’s narrating. Telling me every step before he touches me. He’s giving me control, giving me space to stop him if I need to. The realization unknots something in my chest.
“Okay. I’m ready when you are.”
Ezra picks me up, touching me exactly where he said he would. His eyes stay locked on mine, looking for any signs of distress.
When he lifts me, I barely register wrapping my arms around his neck. My head falls against his shoulder, the scent of pine and cinnamon settling over me, quieting the twitch of something that feels alive under my skin.
Ezra tucks me into bed with the same careful patience, still afraid I’ll splinter beneath his hands.
“Do you need anything else, Aurora? More medicine? Or perhaps more water?”
“No, thank you, Ezra. I’m all set.”
Except those few seconds of protective warmth weren’t enough for me. And I’m terrified of going back to sleep.
Ezra settles into my reading chair again and picks up the book he must have been reading while I slept.
It’s time to stop being an absolute chickenshit and tell him what I want.
“E-Ezra?”
“Yes, Aurora? What do you need?” He lays the book on his lap and leans forward, waiting for me to speak.
“Will you sit next to me? On the bed, I mean. I’m afraid to go to sleep, and I thought maybe we could talk.”
“Are you sure, Aurora?”
I pat the empty side of the bed. “Yes, Ezra. I’m sure.”
He looks uncertain, but slowly moves toward the bed, then gently lays himself down, careful not to touch me. When I inch his way, Ezra’s entire body tenses.
Well, isn’t this adorable? He’s nervous.
“What would you like to talk about, Aurora?”
There are so many questions I could ask a billion-year-old shadow creature, but some feel more pressing than others.
“Does your shadow always take the form of animals? It did in the shop, and outside my house earlier tonight … and then in my living room.”
Ezra’s body vibrates with a humming sound, clearly mulling over how to respond. You’d think after a billion years with his shadows, he’d have a go-to answer.
But then again, maybe no one’s ever asked him something this personal before.
“I’ve always been able to shape my shadow. If I focus. It takes effort, and even then, the shapes are simple. A tendril, a hand, nothing more. They don’t move on their own.”
Ezra exhales slowly, shifting just enough for the mattress to dip beneath his weight.
“But that night? At the shop? That wasn’t me. I didn’t will them forward, Aurora. They reacted … to you. And it wasn’t just that night. Ever since we locked eyes on the sidewalk in front of Eve’s shop, they’ve been … restless. Moving without my command. Reaching for you.”
He leans back slightly, his fingers drumming once against his chest before going still.
“They’ve never done that before. Not for anyone. They knew something before I did, and I still don’t know what to make of it.”
His pinky lightly grazes mine while he speaks, causing a pleasant tingle to spread through my body. A wisp of darkness stirs at his wrist, mirroring the hesitant touch, coiling then vanishing, just barely keeping itself in check.
The playful woodland creatures on the shop wall were whimsical and fun, while the tendrils that caressed Ezra’s face were sexy and intriguing. But the massive Irish wolfhound with antlers was pure power and violence.
“There was one that kind of scared me,” I whisper.
Ezra’s body tenses even more when I wrap my pinky around his. The muscles in his jaw flex while he takes a steadying breath through his nose. I’ve never affected anyone like this before. It’s a heady fucking feeling.
“The Cù Fèidh? The canine with deer antlers?”
Ezra squeezes my pinky back, his body finally relaxing against me. He needs this small bit of contact just as much as I do.
“Coo Fee-ah?”
“That’s the name I’ve given the beast. It … more or less means dog-deer. Not exactly poetry, I know.”
“Will it hurt me? Do you have control over it?”
That thing looked like it wanted to rip me limb from limb, then frolic in my remains.
“No, Aurora. It will not hurt you. The Cù Fèidh belongs to you. Your fear of my anger at the shop triggered something in my shadow, and it formed the Cù Fèidh on its own to protect you. In the forest, before your … well, earlier, my shadow felt your pull, just as my solid forms feel your pull. The beast couldn’t stay away.
I had to beg it to return before it took up a protective post alongside Louie. ”
“So, the Cù Fèidh is mine? It won’t hurt me?”
“No, little lupine. The beast belongs to you.”
As if sensing the words, Ezra’s shadows shift, stretching toward my wrist, cool and careful, like the Cù Fèidh itself is reaching for its rightful mistress.
“You should try to get some sleep, Aurora. I promise I will not leave your side. Can I get you anything?”
Ezra sits up, then throws his legs over the bed. But before he can stand, I grab his wrist and squeeze it.
“C-could you maybe hold me until I fall asleep? When you’re beside me, I feel better.”
My face burns with embarrassment, but my eyes never stray from his. Every time he leaves my side, my anxiety spikes, leaving me cold, empty, and panicked. Something stupid inside of me is desperate to have his arms wrapped around me.
“Are you sure?”
He runs his free hand over mine, which currently has a death grip on his wrist, then uses his forefinger to make soft circles on the back of my hand.
“No. I’m not sure. But I’d like to try.”
Ezra bites his bottom lip and looks away. He wants to say yes, but feels like he should say no. With a heavy sigh, he lays back on the bed and holds up the arm closest to me so I can sneak under it.
“Where would you like me to place my hand?”
Good question.
Do I want him to touch me?
What a dumb fucking question.
Of course I want him to touch me.
Ezra doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, but his shadows trail along the sheets in quiet anticipation.
“My hip, I think. I just … need some pressure and warmth.”
“As you wish, Aurora.”
I curl into his side on instinct—my leg hooking around his, my head tucked beneath his chin, my hand resting lightly on his stomach.
His steady breath, the way his skin hums against mine, the way his body twitches beneath my fingers—each one reminds me that he’s real. He’s here. He’s safe.
He wraps his arms around me, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
A deep, content sigh blows through my nose as my body relaxes for the first time in hours. Every muscle in Ezra’s body is tense, and if I weren’t exhausted, I would trace the abs I feel through his thin sweater.
“May I place my hand over yours, Aurora? I understand if it’s too much.”
This version of Ezra is a far cry from the asshole who cornered me on the street just a few days ago.
Wait. Holy shit. Is he blushing?
His skin suddenly heats, which feels amazing against my aching muscles.
Has he dealt with trauma like this before? He seems to know exactly what to say and do to make me feel comfortable. Being billions of years old must be a traumatic experience in itself. Especially if he spent most of that time alone.
There’s so much more to him than the pompous dick he pretends to be.
“Yes, Ezra. That would be fine.”
When his hand covers mine, I thread our fingers together and guide his other arm around me. He holds me like that for a while, wrapped up in silence, before easing onto his back again, letting me curl into the space beneath his chin.
My hand returns to his chest, and when I nuzzle into his neck, I notice the ink peeking out from the collar of his sweater.
So, he does have tattoos.