Page 86 of Bitten & Burned
“No, you should be… You don’t have to forgive me… I wouldn’t.”
She sighed. “Oh, fuck off.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Fuck off with that martyr-oh-woe-is-me-I-hurt-everything-I-touch-garbage.”
Speechless, I just stared at her.
“You don’t get to show up here looking like a slapped ass and tell me how I should feel. You’re powerful—but not that powerful.”
“A slapped ass?” I repeated, “I don’t look like a slapped ass, I look like a fucking monster because I almost killed you.”
“And I asked you to bite me. Remember that? Or do you only remember the things that make you feel bad?”
Again, I was speechless. No one had ever spoken to me that way before. Maybe they should have.
“You’re mad. About this?”
“Damn right I’m mad! But not for the reasons you think. It’s because you can’t look at me unless you’re crying or apologizing. I’m angry because I’m still here, and you’re acting like you killed me. Not almost. Did.”
I opened my mouth several times, but couldn’t go further than that.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to say something that isn’t just self-pity with extra steps. I want you to say something real. Not that I doubt that you’re sorry, but I’m sick of hearing it. Tell me something else.”
“Fine,” I said. Clipped. “Fine, I was scared. Was that what you wanted? For me to be scared?”
Her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I was scared because I was watching the first person in decades who understood me—who looked at me like I was more than my impulses, the first person to really see me—bleeding out on the floor, from injuries I caused. That’s why I was scared. I was fucking terrified.”
She extended her hand again. “Come here.”
I hesitated.
“Get into bed with me?” she asked, pulling back the sheets.
I swallowed. Stared. Flexed my hands. “I can’t. My shirt’s filthy.”
“So take it off,” she countered.
I blinked. “Rowena… I don’t think we should?—”
“Gods, Quil. Do you really think that’s what I’m asking for? No, I need cuddles. Pronto. And yours are the best ones.”
“There’s no way you could know that,” I said dryly.
“Fine. Prove me wrong. Come in here and cuddle me, Ashborne.”
“I—” I stammered. She had me.
“I need… someone to be here. I don’t want to be alone. I know I have Fig, but… I just need… someone. And I need it to be you.”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. What else could I do?
