Page 36 of Fanged Secrets
I told myself it was for the best, that she deserved a normal life free from the dangers and chaos that came with being involved with me. At least she’d have her memories, however tainted they were. But my heart didn’t listen. It ached for her, for the disjointed connection we shared and the possibility of what we could have been.
Eventually, I headed back, my mind heavy with a million regrets.
To my surprise, the door opened when I twisted the handle. I slipped inside like a shadow. The room was quiet, dimly lit by the single lamp on the nightstand. Amara was asleep on the far corner of the bed, a tangle of curls poking out of the covers, most likely swamped with fatigue after the adrenaline wore off.
I quietly tended to my wounds, rifling through my backpack for the ointment that had saved me the last time. The childish part of me whined to wake Amara, to ask for her help, but I brushed it aside. I had handled countless injuries alone and I would handle countless more. The salve burned against my shredded skin.
When I was done, I found a frayed blanket and curled up in the armchair across the room. Listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat, I closed my eyes, building mental walls against what was to come. But despite my best efforts, they wouldn’t stand.
The hours crawled by as I drifted in a restless state of half-consciousness, curled up in the uncomfortable armchair. The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the faint hum of a generator. The soft orangeglow from the lamp cast long shadows across the bed. My eyes, barely open, were fixed on Amara.
She stirred then, her movements slow and deliberate as she sat up in bed. She flattened her tousled hair and quietly got to her feet, slipping on her shoes and casting quick, nervous glances my way. I kept my eyes slit, concealed behind dark bangs, and pretended to be none the wiser. From her perspective, I was fast asleep, coiled like a snake in the corner.
I watched her inch my backpack toward her across the floor. She crouched over it, digging through the contents and pulling out some crumpled cash. She pocketed it and straightened up again, running wistful fingers over my discarded jacket on the nightstand.
She picked it up and held it for a moment, inspecting the crumpled leather. I held my breath when she moved to put it on and then hesitated, clutching it to her chest instead like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. After another glance in my direction, she laid it gently on the mattress.
My heart pounded painfully in my chest as she turned and made her way to the door, every muscle in my body tense. It creaked slightly as she edged it open.
When she stood in the open doorway, silhouetted against the night sky, a wave of panic swept through me.This is for the best.I tried to steel myself as I always did, tried to carve out the infection before it reached my heart, but this time, it didn’t work. This time, it felt like I was about to lose everything.
Just as Amara stepped over the threshold, something in me snapped.
“Wait!” I leaped to my feet, reaching out to grab her hand, my voice raw with desperation. “Please, wait.”
Startled at my sudden touch, Amara jerked away, spinning around to face me, her eyes wide and terrified. She stumbled backward, shoulders colliding with the doorframe. Seeing herlike that, a look of pure fear etched into her soft features, shattered what was left of my composure.
“Don’t go.” Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, signing and speaking the words that had been clawing at my throat. “Please don’t go.”
She froze, staring down at me like a deer caught in headlights.
A small, cruel voice in my head whispered that I had already lost, that I was always meant to be alone. But I couldn’t stop. The floodgates were open, my fortress was crumbling like so much sand.
“I know you have every reason not to trust me,” I pleaded, my words tumbling out in a rush. My hands struggled to form the words – things I hadn’t thought I’d needed to learn. “I know I’ve given you every reason to leave. But please, Amara. Please don’t go.”
My voice dropped to a whisper as I looked up at her, the words pouring from the deepest part of my blackened soul. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
I dropped my head, staring at my hands, bracing myself for the sound of her retreating footsteps. For a long while, there was nothing, only the tumultuous pounding of my heart in my throat. I waited for the door to slam, for a slap to the face, something to prove that I was too late. That I’d never had a chance to begin with.
Instead, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, and then another on my cheek, turning my face up. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, as I looked up into Amara’s eyes.
My arms acted of their own accord, wrapping around her waist. I pressed the side of my face to her abdomen, closing my eyes against the age-old tears that threatened to fall after all this time.
Amara stiffened for a moment, but then slowly sank to her knees, taking my face in her hands. Her eyes were wide andsearching, diving into me and inspecting every fragment of my heart.
She moved closer and her lips brushed mine for a moment, careful and hesitant. And then her arms wrapped around me, hands fisting at my back as she tugged me into a tight, crushing embrace.
Wracked with unexplainable anguish, I clung to her, burying my head in her neck as our hearts beat in perfect unison.
Chapter 20
Amara
None of the events of that horrific evening shocked me more than Dylan’s tears. She clung to me like a creeping vine, trembling in my arms. A monster. My wife. A woman who wouldn’t kneel for anyone, but she had for me. I stroked her hair, staring over her shoulder, and tried to make sense of the muddled emotions that swarmed in my chest.
A crippling fear gnawed at the edges of my mind, clouded by the stench of rust and ammonia – blood. Mine, hers, that scaled creature’s. It clung to my pores, crowded my thoughts. Her hands fisted in the fabric of my sweater and I pictured claws, poised to raze me down.
Dylan was cold, inhumanly so. I should have noticed that before.
