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“Why not just pair two equally toxic people together?”
“It is not a cosmic rule bent on mutual destruction. It is an opportunity for growth and healing that can sometimes only be found with help.”
“Cosmic therapy.”
“That is Willow’s opinion of it at any rate.”
I let my mind stroll through the idea that I’ve been cosmically designed for someone who fulfills all the pieces of me that seem to be missing. It’s a lot. On top of the other concepts, it’s a lot. “I asked you to leave the soulmate stuff alone for a bit, but you derailed the conversation right back into it.”
He tenses. “My apologies. I did not mean to. I am poorly equipped to regulate discussion of my interests. I craft entire worlds around them and bury myself in my ideas. Suffice to say, you are a primary interest, and I want you, desperately.” Taking a breath, he drops his hands to his sides and steps back onto the damp sand. My ocean licks against his heels. “Proof. We were discussing proof. The proof that you want. Because, like me, you demand clear answers to theories and hypotheses and speculations, and I will manage how that knowledge undoes me for your sake.”
“Why are you hesitant to give me information?”
“Because. I have told you that you are a fearsome creature. There is a barrier you have crafted inside yourself that locks who you are at your core away. I do not know what might happen if a shock shatters it. I worry you might go off like a bomb. I worry what Cael may do if only he knew what lay in our midst.”
“Meda talks about Cael as though he’s a sunshine and rainbows sort of guy.”
“Because Meda’s picture of Cael is random presents and encouragement of her mischief. She has seen far less of his leadership role.”
“He was jealous of a burrito.”
Pollux clears his throat. “He’s…interesting in his duplicity. He would not harm you, but I do not like the potential he may seek to contain you for the safety of others.”
Yeah. I’m not really a fan of that idea either. Tangling my fingers together, I say, “I’m spooky?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? Because when I’m stressed, I crochet succulents. And that feels like very unspooky behavior.”
“When you’re stressed, you have found an acceptable outlet of repetitive actions in order to filter the excess energy you hold onto, the excess energy you would otherwise funnel into correcting what is causing you stress. Years have put this barrier in place. I would prefer to slowly unravel it. Cautiously. Through events like tonight, where your dreams provide a method of introducing you to ideas that you can then process more casually while you rest.”
“So I don’t explode?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
I laugh. “Wow. Okay, then. Nice to know. You know. Maybe. I really was quite the imaginative kid growing up. Obviously, I’m just relapsing a little. No problem.”
“Who stopped you from being who you were as a child.”
“What do you mean? No one stopped me. I grew up. It happens.”
Pollux searches me for several long moments, then he shakes his head. “Something collided with you and trained you to believe things about yourself and the world. Many fae are born in full. Too young and too old, by your world’s standards. There’s a level of maturity that does come with age, but it does not usually override simple, childish joys.”
My mouth opens. I close it. Clasping my hands together and tapping my thumbs, I say, “Pollux, it sounds like you’re suggesting I’m fae.”
“Did I not make that clear?”
“No, not really.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “An accident. What…did you assume I meant every time I’ve said you are an unfathomable creature of horrors?”
“I assumed you were really bad at flirting. Or really good. I don’t know. It kind of sends a shiver down my spine when you suggest I’m something powerful and capable of more than cleaning up after a group of gremlin children.”
“The concept of flirting baffles me. I do not understand the merit in dancing around the truth of attraction. You consume me. I love you. Your beauty haunts me like one of my most terrible renditions of a wraith, yet I welcome it.”
I step forward, onto the wet sand, and cover his mouth. “Please. Stop.”
“Right.” He murmurs against my fingers. “My apologies. My feelings for you are unfamiliar, and I do not know where to put them.”
