Page 26 of Monsters' Manor

“It was written all over your face,” Renwick says, leaning in so fast I don’t have time to react, lowering his voice and murmuring into my ear. “You like to pretend you’re tough as nails, don’t you? But you’re not as good at pretending as you think you are.”

Fuck that. And fuck him. Acting like he knows me. Acting like he has any idea who I am or how I feel.

I’m about to protest again, step away from him, keep clinging on to all my defenses until they’re solid enough that no one—not even Renwick—can get past them, when he slings an arm around my waist and pulls me into him.

His voice is even softer now. Tender. A velvet rasp against the shell of my ear.

“I don’t mean that as an insult. Whatever happened before you got here, whatever made you build those walls around yourself, you don’t have to keep hiding behind them. Not here. Not with me.”

Renwick is warm and solid, the heavy band of his arm keeping me upright when my knees go a bit loose at his words.

“Let it go, Rosie. Whatever it is you’re so afraid of. Whatever you’re holding onto. Let it go.”

What he’s asking is… impossible.

Years,fifteenyears’ worth of denying my magick, denying who I am and what I’m capable of. Fifteen years of fearing myself and what might happen if I lose control. Fifteen years of wishing I could be someone,anyone, but who I am.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” Renwick continues, still so gentle. “I see power, Rosie. And potential. I wish you could see it, too.”

The unexpected prick of tears in my eyes jerks me back to the present. The realization I’ve been letting Renwick hold me, murmur to me, be so intimate with me for far longer than I should have snaps the moment between us.

I take a shaky breath and step back. His arm falls away, and he watches me with a waiting calm.

It feels like a test.

Just like it did with Odelia, my path is still branching out in front of me. Accept myself as I am, or keep running. Reach over that wall and find out what’s waiting on the other side, or hide in its shadow forever.

I don’t know what the right choice is. I don't know what will keep me safe and what will destroy me. I don’t have enough information or faith in myself to feel like I can decide with any kind of confidence.

But with a crimson-eyed demon still watching me, and the weight of my entire future pressing down on my shoulders, I pick a path.

“Alright,” I say, shaky but sure. “Let’s do it.”

There’s a flash of some emotion on Renwick’s face—something that’s not triumph and not quite satisfaction, something I might almost call pride if I didn’t know better—but he buries it under another cocky grin.

“That’s the spirit, Rosie.”

“Where… where do we start?”

Renwick steps closer. “Turn around.”

I do, and feel the warmth of him at my back as he presses in behind me.

“Where do you feel it?” Renwick murmurs. “Your magick. When you feel it building, where does it come from?”

“My chest. And my hands. But it comes from my chest first.”

He makes a low noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, a noise I can feel rumble through all the places we’re touching. A moment later, one big hand settles over the center of my chest, and the other nestles in just below my breasts. Renwick’s hold is firm, warm, and I should probably be more mad about it, but I don’t have time to work up any ire before he speaks again.

“Here? Is this where it comes from?”

Taking a shaky breath, I nod. And whether it’s Renwick’s touch or the lingering emotional overwhelm of this entire afternoon, I’m not sure, but my magick rushes up to meet his hands.

Like he can feel it beneath my skin, Renwick makes another low noise in the back of his throat. Approval, this time.

“Good. Very good. What does it feel like?”

“Fire,” I whisper. “It always feels like fire.”

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