Page 6 of Cherry Moon

But one day it would unravel again, because those were the rules of living. And I couldn’t stand it. Bollocks to actually knowing there was an afterlife and we’d be spending eternity together at some point. Once we both ended up there, of course.

No. I never wanted to spend a day without him, no matter what.

Loss was still loss. How would I cope without him if he went first? What if things went wonky in the afterlife again and we were put through another gauntlet of horrors like when we ‘died’ before?

Shit. The thought of it made me wanna puke. And it was another reason I didn’t want a return to the big fight. It only upped the odds of separation.

I wasn’t fully healed from my trauma, and probably never would be completely. G steadied the ship, chasing most of the bad energy away with his own special brand of healing. Gave me a reason to live, to smile, all the good stuff.

A world without his light would be a frozen world of misery I wanted no part of, promise of an afterlife or not.

I couldn’t bear it.

Damn, my head hurt, pain throbbing in the temples. I shouldn’t worry about death, focus on living for now instead. Revel in bliss. But the gnawing fear wouldn’t stop.

I kept that to myself. G didn’t need to suffer through any more of my emotional baggage. And he’d aired similar feelings to me a few times before, so I didn’t need to go poking at his worries.

After popping another cherry, I brewed a pot of coffee. I’d already gulped down two mugs of the instant stuff earlier, and now it was time for the good rocket fuel. Black, no milk or sugar.

The caffeine might help shift the headache. Or make it worse.

Whatever.

My phone hummed on the counter.

It was G.

Love you, Aki

xxxxxxxxx

What a cutie.

I fired back a, “Love you too” with a longer string of kisses and a pink heart emoji.

He sent three red hearts back, then called me.

“Hey,” I answered. “What’s up?”

“Demand for those signed first editions of The Silence of the Lambs,” he answered.

I bet. They weren’t just signed by Thomas Harris, but also dated, which upped the value massively, apparently.

“Bidding war?” I asked.

“Between ten people.” He chuckled, the deep sound sending warmth to my belly.

“Good for the bank account, eh?” I quipped.

“Funny guy.” His Texan drawl really delivered that line in a crisp, yummy way. I loved his accent; it was powerful enough to melt the boxers off my body.

Bob and Rose, my gray-furred metaphysical wolves and extension of my senses, brushed against my legs, peering up at me with happy, radiant orange eyes.

They loved their G as much as me.

Although I was technically a werewolf, I couldn’t shift. So, my babies took over the wolfy senses part of my existence, coming in handy many, many times over the years.

I reached down to stroke their heads, both giving me a lick, their energy buzzing across my skin.