Page 60 of Claimed By the Mothman
“I was observing,” he said quietly. “And participating. I wished to understand how your friends orbit.”
She blinked at him, soft and off-guard. “That’s sweet.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. And because she was tipsy and warm and full of something she wasn’t quite ready to name, she kissed her hand, rose to her tiptoes, and pressed it to his cheek.
“There,” she said, laughing a little at herself. “For effort.”
Sig’s pupils expanded. His expression didn’t change, not in any human way, but shefeltit—felt the bond stretch taut between them. The curve of his cheek beneath her palm was warm.
Nell tilted her head back. “You’re so tall,” she muttered. “Like—how did that evenworkwhen you fucked me on the table?”
Silence. Vast, canyon-deep silence.
Her eyes widened. Her breath caught. “Oh no,” she whispered. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean tosay thatout loud.”
Sig’s jaw twitched. His eyes, already luminous, had goneverybright now. “If it helps…” He said in a voice so low and polite it was almost obscene, “I have also replayed the logistics several times. It remains… remarkable.”
She made a sound like a dying mouse and covered her face with both hands.
“Gods,” she groaned. “I’m going to turn into mist. Just dissolve. Float away.Die.”
He caught her shoulder and she absolutely ignored the shiver that climbed her spine. “I would prefer you didn’t,” he said gently.
“What?” she blinked up at him, dazed.
“Die.”
She let out a breathy, wine-laced laugh. “I mean from shame, you lunatic.”
“Ah,” he said, with complete solemnity. “An internal death.”
Her cheeksflamed.“I hate you,” she whispered, but her voice betrayed her. It didn’t sound like hate at all. It sounded like she might cry. Or kiss him. Or both.
“You kissed your hand,” he said, very seriously, “before pressing it to my cheek. Does that constitute hate among humans?”
Her stomach flipped. “Stop being cute.”
“I am not trying to be,” he said, and somehow that made itworse.
“Well, you’re succeeding anyway,” she muttered, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You know what else? You’re kind of hot when you’re annoying.”
A beat unspooled between them.
“It’ssounfair. You’ve got this wholedeath omen with unexpected mannersthing happening, and it’s…it’s a lot.”
His antennae twitched once. “You think I am… a lot?”
“I think I want to climb you like a tree,” she said, very clearly, not slurring whatsoever. “And also never speak to you again. So yes.”
Sig didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. Just stood there, like if he moved even an inch, she might collapse, or he might.
And then Nell did something deeply,deeplystupid.
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest. Her hands stayed limp at her sides, but her whole body softened against him.
“I should go inside,” she mumbled into his shirt.
