Page 61 of Marked By Feral Monsters
But my thoughts keep cycling back.
What does it mean that he didn't keep the money? Has he been with other clients when he leaves here? Is that the errand he had to run this morning?
The thought squeezes my heart. He's spent the last few days here, even though, technically, our time together was up. I've been afraid to admit to myself that it felt like we were buildingsomething together, something strange and beautiful, but real. Am I delusional to think this is real?
He's been amazing. It's not just the sex. He's funny and charming, and often brutally honest.
I'm falling for my escort, and I'm pretty sure that's against the rules. Or just plain stupid.
I hear the front door open and Zair's surprisingly light footsteps enter the apartment. I half expect him to join me in the bathroom, but with all the noise he's making in the kitchen, I'm too impatient to wait. So, I drain the tub, dry off with a towel, apply arnica oil to my tender muscles, pull on an ugly, yet practical terry-cloth robe, then make my way into the kitchen.
Zair glances up, eyes raking over my form, a smirk tugging at his cheek, before he turns back to whatever he's doing. Which is making a giant mess.
"Wait, are you making pierogies?" I ask, seeing the small cookie-cutters and the bowl of cooked meat and herbs. He's been busy, apparently.
He grunts in the affirmative and keeps working his hands through the flour. The white dust coats his thick hands and forearms, and I can't help but smile at how domestic he looks. Closer, the ingredients look a little different from the ones I get at the Polish restaurant near my office I sometimes go to for lunch.
"Actually, they are called K'Vacas, a minotaur delicacy, but similar to pierogies. You need nourishment; these will do the trick."
I couldn't help the full-body blush at his attentive aftercare, even now, days later. Ugh, is that what this is? More aftercare?
Are we still in scene? Is any of this real?
Every time I think about how wonderful he is, I immediately remember I paid him to be here. But, I remind myself, he didn'ttake the money. As if sensing my train of thought, he stops working the dough and pins me with a glare.
"What is wrong, my little mouse?"
I love that nickname. And he's going to take it with him when he eventually leaves. Which should have been days ago. Every day that passes, the longer we're together, the more time I spend with him, not just fucking, but hanging out, the harder it's going to be to let him go.
No one will ever call me little mouse again.
Spiraling in panic, Zair growls, sending that magical vibration through the atmosphere, and it shivers through my body, calming me down. I have to force myself to remember that this isn't real.
I blurt out, "You didn't take the money!"
The hum continues, shooting like fireworks as he chuckles. I grip the kitchen countertop—normally so pristine, now covered in flour and green herbs and lemon juice, it's an absolute mess—he lets the deep growl continue as he casually folds the dough, as though I hadn't said a word.
My heart beats faster, palms sweaty, everything careening out of control, while he just fucking cooks. I want to demand an answer. God, I'd write him up if he were my employee.
Oh, fuck. Is he technically? My stomach churns that my brain even went there. Iama bitch. Everyone at the office is right.
No, he gave the money back. Everything is fine. This is fine.
Goddammit,say something!But he's unbothered. A soft look on his face. That hum shaking out of his chest, into me. My fingers claw into the countertop. I bounce on my toes.
I grit my teeth to keep from blurting out something wholly stupid. Why do I care anyway? It's not like this is going to last, even if it is real. Why does this even matter?
Because you like him, Calista. A lot.
The humming continues. I can feel it now, inside me, slowing my heart rate. My fingernails dislodge from the counter and I take deep, measured breaths.
Zair finally finishes folding the dough pockets, aligns them on a rack, then rinses his hands in the sink. His claws suds up, and it reminds me of our first shower together. There've been many in only a few days. But that first one… my first time with a monster… it changed everything for me. Not just any monster, no. No one else would do. Just him. Just Zair.
This can't go anywhere. We're so different. I think of all the ways he'll end this, of reasons I should. But then he walks around the counter, coming to stand directly in front of me.
"Do you know why I do what I do?" he asks softly, tilting his head, brown eyes warm and focused.
"What?"
