Page 71 of Heimlock

“She wasn’t?” Kyrielle whispers.

No. She wasn’t. I didn’t understand what happened at the time, but she had drugged me. Raped me repeatedly while I was passed out. Gaslit me; told me I wanted it. It took me years to understand what she’d done — that I had technically lost my virginity to a predator.

“Technically?”

Nope. One question for today. Thinking about that rapist bitch makes me want to do awful, terrible things that I can’t entertain. Keeping tight reins on my emotions, I admit, I’ve never told anyone that; not even Fynn. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.

“Of course, Trinte,” she says vehemently. She's rubbing my scales more insistently, as if her sincerity's transferred into the motion. It makes me want to purr and panic at the same time. “I would never violate your trust like that. Ever.” She pauses. “This is probably obvious, but … why would you change it?”

If she knew half the things I’ve experienced, she’d know it actually isn’t an obvious answer. There are so many things worth changing, including him.

I diminished the experience so thoroughly, it altered the way I viewed sex. When you run so far from a memory that it becomes subconscious lore, it can affect your every decision and perception of reality. For years, an experience that could be special with someone became reduced to physical impulses and a refusal to connect. Because …

A wave of exhaustion almost makes my wings falter. This is the most I’ve ever thought or spoken about my trauma. The fact that I can articulate this much is impressive.

“Because?” she prompts.

I sigh in my Dragon form. Because of my formative experiences with sex, I don’t think I can ever view it normally. Which is why I would change it.

It’s something I’ve spent years thinking about and yet steadfastly ignoring. There’s a wall between me and the part that could possibly allow me to connect with someone. The older I become, the more clear it is. It’s like standing in front of a smooth, steel wall and being told to climb over it without a ladder.

Her sweet voice interrupts my thoughts. “Thank you for sharing, Trinte.”

Saying nothing, I begin the slow descent. The moons rise slowly into the sky, casting a pale, eerie glow on the clouds, homes, and lawns.

Silent as a cat, I land. Kyrielle flicks her wings to land gracefully on the grass. I shift and crack my joints.

She pulls out her phone, then points to a house across from the landing pad. It’s a two-story home, with a single light on in the upstairs bedroom.

“What is he again?” I whisper, stepping in close enough to catch her scent of vanilla.

“Forest Sprite.”

Damn; mostly impervious to electricity. I can only use fire in Dragon form. Kyrielle’s probably our best bet today. “Okay. Do you want to take the lead?”

Kyrielle flashes a grin. “Are you allowing a little girl to take the lead?”

“No offense, Kyrielle, but you scare me. You can take the lead all you want.”

Slapping a hand to her mouth, she stifles a laugh. “Why do I love the idea of me scaring you?”

“Because you were put on this earth to torment men?”

“Maybe just you,” she whispers back.

“I think there’s a certain Forest Sprite about to have a similar opinion.”

Fire literally burns in her irises. It’s mesmerizing. “Let’s go find my next victim, shall we?”

She holds out her hand. With the sweetest, most hopeful smile. My heart holds its breath. It’s utterly impossible to deny her. Fortuna, what the fuck? So much for having resolve when it comes to her.

My hand slides into hers, and we walk toward the home.

We stand outside the house for a few minutes to ascertain who might be inside. That one bedroom light isn’t enough information to go on.

“Should we wait for daytime?” I ask, looking at the determined firefly next to me.

Kyrielle shakes her head. “Better to take him by surprise at night. Forest Sprites are stronger during the day.”