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I swallow. “What?”
“It isn’t inappropriate or wrong for you to desire affection. As someone who has never before been the object of such desires, would you consider for a moment that it might hurt to learn you are not proud of wanting me?”
My lips part as his words—the sincerity and directness of his delivery—gut me to my core. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
He touches two fingers to the center of my chest, slightly to the left. “Your feelings matter. The ones you’ve been taught are unsavory have purpose. We do not shame beautiful things like too much love or excitement. We even have a high tolerance for too much mischief. The only things we must reassess are the ones that harm. Wanting me does the opposite of harm.” His head cocks. “Okay?”
My mouth goes dry, and I don’t know how to respond without making a fool of myself, so all I can say is, “Will I see you again tonight? When I dream.”
“If I can, I will stop in to see you.”
“If you can?” I whisper, hating how desperate I sound.
“Meda’s sleeping for a little while right now since today’s event exhausted her. Once she wakes, I need to take her out hunting.”
“Hunting?”
“We feed on fear from the nightmares we craft. We hunt for humans who need them. It is my understanding she calls our hunts work in front of you in an effort to soften the concept. We have learned to be careful with what we are and how that affects others.”
I say, “Who would need a nightmare?”
“Scientific studies show that nightmares are one of the brain’s many ways of managing stress. Not all the things people need are pretty. Sometimes, humans need a reminder that there’s a problem worth processing, addressing, and correcting. Because, dearest, even fear is an emotion worthy of attention, no matter how it might inconvenience someone else.” He lets my fingers slip from his as he takes a step back. “Suppression only helps other people, and too often those other people are unworthy of that particular help. Sleep well.” Pollux turns toward the front door.
My heart jumps.
I don’t know why, but I trip forward, grab the hem of his shirt, and stop him.
Beautiful, dark, and monstrous eyes glance at me over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“It’s gonna be okay, right? Everything is gonna be okay, right?”
“It is going to be better than okay.” Facing me, he lifts my chin and kisses my forehead. “Do not worry, Kassandra. You are loved.”
I drive home with Pollux’s words on repeat in my skull. They’re a gentle pound that overrides the things my mother said to me. They’re strong enough to fill my chest with air and guide me to rest once I find my way back to my bed.
The idea that I’m loved isn’t foreign.
After all, I didn’t grow up in a cold world like Zahra.
But…something about the way Pollux said you are loved feels different.
Like, for the first time in my life, being loved relies on nothing.
For the first time in my life, all the weight of an expectation to play a role…is gone.
Chapter 23
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I guess it’s time to go deeper…
Today is Friday.
The day after Thanksgiving.
Pollux and Andromeda must have been out hunting all night, because he never stopped in to say hi in my dreams.
Every bone in my body aches. Every thought in my head makes a throb rise to my temples.
