18. Malrec
MALREC
Iforce myself to keep my attention on the beast, not on her. Not on the way she's standing there with her chin lifted despite the dismissal I just threw at her. Not on how my entire body wants to turn toward her like she's the only thing in this pasture worth focusing on.
"Leave." I don't soften the word, don't give her anything to latch onto. My hands tighten on the binding rope, the rough fiber digging into my palms even through the reinforced gloves. "Now."
The crystalline beast shifts its weight, protrusions catching the red light filtering down from above.
Each movement sends that grinding sound through the air, like tectonic plates rubbing against each other.
I should be cataloging its behavior patterns, noting the way it distributes its mass before making a move, observing how it responds to my positioning.
Instead, I'm hyperaware of Lenna's presence behind me, the way she hasn't retreated despite my orders.
Why is she still here? Why does she keep pushing this?
I heard her last night. Heard every word she said to Nimae through that door I was too much of a coward to knock on.
Heard her describe me as cold and withdrawn.
Heard her say the version of me in her memories—those impossible, vivid dreams we're apparently both experiencing—was nothing like the reality.
Heard her tell Nimae I don't know when asked if she wanted me.
I don't know. Those three words have been carving themselves deeper into my chest with every hour that's passed since. Not a yes. Not even close to one. Just uncertainty and disappointment that I'm not whoever she thinks she remembers.
The beast takes a step closer, testing my focus.
I shift my stance slightly, keeping myself positioned between it and the exit, maintaining the careful balance of authority and respect that prevents these situations from turning violent.
But my concentration is fractured, split between the creature in front of me and the woman behind me who apparently came here for some reason I can't begin to understand.
To talk, she said. About what? About how I'm a pale imitation of whatever fantasy version of me exists in those memory-dreams? About how last night was another mistake in a growing list of things we've done that feel right in the moment and devastating afterward?
"Malrec, please—"
"Don't." The word comes out harder than I intend.
I can feel her flinch even without looking, can sense the way her posture changes in response to my tone.
Good. She should flinch. She should turn around and walk away before I do something else I'll regret.
Before I pull her close again just to feel that brief moment of rightness before reality crashes back in.
The beast's head swings toward her voice, attention shifting with predatory interest. I take a controlled step forward, drawing its focus back to me. "You're distracting it. And me. I can't do this with you here."
This. Handle dangerous beasts. Maintain control. Function like I'm supposed to instead of getting lost in questions about impossible memories and why her presence makes my chest feel like it's being crushed under the weight of things I can't name.
I've been dreaming about her for weeks now.
Vivid, detailed dreams that feel more real than waking life.
Dreams where we're together in ways that suggest history—shared routines, physical familiarity, the kind of casual intimacy that only comes from time spent building something.
Last night I dreamed about pulling her into my lap while I worked in my study, her body fitting against mine like she belonged there, promising her I'd always have her.
I woke up feeling like I'd lost something essential. Like whoever I was in those dreams knew how to be what she needed, and this version of me—the one standing here telling her to leave—is just a hollow echo of someone better.
She doesn't want you, I remind myself brutally. She wants whoever that other version is. The warm one. The affectionate one. The one who apparently knows how to make her feel safe instead of confused.
"I'm not leaving until you talk to me." Her voice is steadier now, carrying determination that makes something twist painfully in my chest. "About the dreams. About last night. About whatever this is between us."
The dreams. So she is having them too. I already knew that—heard her confirm it to Nimae—but hearing her say it directly still sends a jolt through my system.
She's experiencing the same impossible familiarity, the same memory-that-isn't-memory phenomenon that's been slowly unraveling my sense of reality.
And she still said she doesn't know if she wants me.
"There's nothing between us." I keep my eyes on the beast, watching how its crystalline protrusions rise and fall with each breath it takes. The lie tastes acrid on my tongue. "Last night was physical. That's all it was."
"You're lying."
The certainty in her voice makes my jaw clench.
She's right, obviously. I am lying. But the alternative—admitting that I don't understand what's happening between us, that every time I touch her it feels like coming home to a place I've never been, that I'm terrified by how much I want something I apparently can't have—is impossible.
Vulnerability like that would destroy me, especially knowing she doesn't actually want this version of me.
"It doesn't matter what I'm doing." I adjust my grip on the rope, preparing for the moment when I'll need to act quickly.
The beast is getting restless, its attention fragmenting between me and Lenna in ways that suggest it's calculating options.
"What matters is that you're creating a dangerous situation by being here. I told you to leave. Do it."
"Why?" She takes a step forward instead of back, and I feel my entire body go taut with tension. "Because you're scared? Because this thing between us—these memories we're both having—means something you don't want to face?"
The beast's head swivels sharply toward her voice again, crystalline protrusions flaring outward in a threat display I recognize from handling volatile creatures in the past. My heart rate kicks up immediately, adrenaline flooding my system as I calculate distances and response times.
"Lenna, stop talking." I drop the commanding tone, let urgency bleed through instead. "You need to leave. Now."
"No." Her voice is closer. She's still moving toward me instead of away, and the panic that surges through my chest is visceral and overwhelming. "Not until you stop pushing me away. Not until you explain why you keep telling me one thing and doing another—"
"I heard you." The words tear out of me before I can stop them, raw and unfiltered.
The beast takes another step forward but I barely register it, too focused on the admission that's been clawing at my throat since last night.
"I came to your quarters to talk. I heard you tell Nimae that I'm cold and withdrawn. That you don't know if you want me."
The silence that follows is absolute. Even the beast seems to still for a moment, though that's probably just my fractured perception making everything else disappear except the way those words hang between us.
"So yes," I continue, my voice flat and controlled again through sheer force of will. "I'm pushing you away. Because I can't be whatever version of me you want. I don't know how. And I won't keep touching you, being with you, when you're wishing I was someone else the entire time."
I chance a glance back at her. Her face has gone pale, eyes wide with what looks like horror or shock or both. Her mouth opens like she's going to say something, but before any sound emerges, the beast moves.
It happens fast—faster than something that size should be able to move. The grinding sound escalates to a shriek of stone on stone as it lunges, not at me, but past me. Toward her.
My body reacts before thought can catch up.
I drop the rope, pivot, throw myself between the beast and Lenna with enough force that my shoulder screams in protest. The creature is already committed to the charge, crystalline protrusions extended like blades, close enough that I can see my reflection distorted in the razor-sharp facets.
Time stretches. I'm aware of too many things at once—the heat of the volcanic ground beneath my boots, the way Lenna's scent cuts through the sulfur and ash in the air, the beast's momentum carrying it forward with unstoppable force, my own body positioning itself to take impact I might not survive.
I get my arms around her, twisting us both aside as the creature's mass bears down on us. My back hits the ground first, Lenna's body pressed against my chest, my torso covering hers as completely as I can manage in the fraction of a second we have before it slams into us.