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“It is genetic, but the traits are not always the same and the blood doesn’t always make itself known. It also does not always mean the threads tie back to their origin in the way yours have found their way to me. My soul isn’t connected to hers, so I cannot tell you whether or not faerie lineage presents itself in her.”
“What do you mean by magic presents itself?” I ask.
“Nothing so incredible as what stories might have you believe. Most humans with fae traits are unable to call upon the abilities of their heritage. In your case, your senses are weaker than what the magic in your blood calls for, so you can lose your grip, struggle to focus, have difficulty communicating with people whose minds run on linear tracks…just to name a few things. The human world isn’t built for you or to accommodate you, so you can hardly keep up but spend nearly all of your time and energy trying to. We are passionate about the things we enjoy, and we can lose ourselves in those thrills for hours. We need time in between tasks in order to regulate and relax our senses. We are nocturnal, so we crave the night and all the peace it provides.”
“We…” I hold his wrist, feel the race of his pulse. “Am I like you, then? A werecanine who can’t shift because I’m part human?”
His thumb skates across my cheek as his eyelids lower. “As far as I can tell, werecanine is the strain that has revealed itself in you. I recognize it as though you are my own. And…” His eyes close. “…knowing that I would drag you down to stand where I do torments me. You deserve alphas. You deserve to be welcomed as a princess, not the plaything of a fool. My reputation does not remotely suit your light. I am ashamed of every aspect and cannot believe fate would say you’re meant to be mine.”
“I don’t care if you’re not an alpha. It would be scary if I were mated to someone so much stronger than me. I’d probably never feel adequate if I had to reconcile both an epic age gap alongside a strength gap of such massive proportions. If you think you’re weak, I can’t even break a wrist…so…you know…I might still have to reconcile a strength gap here.”
He pulls his hand from mine and takes another bite of his burrito. “You should really be able to break a wrist if you need to. It’s important. For self-defense.”
I laugh, remember Alana is trying to sleep, and cover my mouth to muffle the sound. “I don’t know if I’d have the nerve to hurt someone.”
“That is the very reason why you should be able to. The sorts of people who deserve the knowledge to hurt someone are the very ones who would hesitate to do so. You can only choose peace if you are capable of choosing violence. If you are not, that doesn’t make you gentle; that makes you harmless in the face of those who would do you harm.” His beautiful brown eyes darken. “I do not want that for you.”
I might entirely adore him. Everything he’s said tonight resonates somewhere deep inside me, making sense of what has been incomprehensible for so long. This is why my mind works the way it does. This is why I struggle to do things that other humans—other humans without fae blood—have no problems with. I exist in a world that I don’t wholly belong to.
Peering across the room at the silhouette of my sister, I know that we both don’t wholly belong in this world. If only she knew, it would change everything for her.
“Don’t tell her,” Ollie says into the final bite of his burrito.
“Why not?”
“If her threads do not return to their origin, it may give her false hope. And in that false hope, she may search for a human’s interpretation of what we are and end up surrounded by the kinds of creatures that feed on lies about us. They congregate in the places where humans are oblivious to the truth and make their own dangerous assumptions. She could get hurt.”
“But she wants to be a part of this. She’s never felt like she belongs in the world we’ve known, and now we know that we don’t. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not the same.” Licking his lips, he bundles up the wrapper and tosses it into the trash can on the other side of the room. “I might wish that my siblings treated me like she treats you; she may wish that her life turned out more like yours. If it’s not fair just because it’s different, it should not be fair because people are different. If it’s not fair because it is unjust, that is another thing entirely. What she wants may not be what she needs. And we are simply not wise enough to make those sorts of decisions for her.”
“It’s not right to let her continue living in ignorance.”
“It’s not right to provide her with an assumption that could hurt her. I only know what you are because I can hear the pieces of your soul singing to mine. Telling her she is the same will only cause her to question why she is still different than you, or me, or anyone else like us that she meets. Some of these things she must learn for herself and identify in her own ways. We shouldn’t do it for her because we still won’t be right. All we should do is stand by her side and support her no matter what path she finds herself taking or what realizations she comes to make.”
“You’re very philosophical.”
His expression crumples. “Please don’t say mean things to me.”
“I wonder if it’s ’cause you’re so old.”
His resulting sour expression is adorable.
With a sigh, I find Alana splayed on her stomach, one leg hanging off the side of her bed. “I know you’re right and there are a lot of things I don’t understand. I just wish… I don’t know. I wish I could help her more.”
“You love her. Unconditionally. Unconditional love is the greatest help anyone can offer.”
He can’t lie to me. Even if he wants to, the best he can do is try and distract me from the question. If he says all Alana needs right now is my love and support, then I will respect that he knows more about this world than I do.
“Hey,” I murmur.
He tucks his arms under his head. “Hm?”
“Come up here?”
His throat bobs in the slim streetlight shining through the blinds.
“I feel bad that you’re on the floor. And even if you make a puppy bed again, that pillow is impressively flat. I think I’ve had it since Alana started high school.”
