Page 204 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Wren chuckles, flashing his teeth, and when I purse my lips at him, he pulls free.

“Whenever you’re ready, pretty monster. But I won’t wait long.”

He slides both hands in his pockets as he slinks to the door. It closes behind him with a squeal of protesting hinges. The silence isn’t the comfort I thought it would be.

It’s a reminder of the smallness of my life.

I’m by myself, Audra resting in too deep a sleep for me to disturb her with some inane chatter. I’m used to being alone because when you’re the one who keeps shit together there is no one else to lean on.

You adapt. You grow stronger, smarter, more resilient.

And so fucking lonely it stings.

She is my sister and my best friend, and I’ve done everything in my power to protect her. My bullshit has pulled her under this time.

What the hell am I going to do now?

I groan, my head falling back on my neck. I grab the end of my braid and tug it sharply like the pain will clear things I need cleared.

Newsflash: it doesn’t do shit.

“Okay.” I stop at the dead center of the room with its warped picture frames, peeling wallpaper, and air of neglect. With dusty Christmas lights I have to put away. It’s on the to do list, right below cleaning out the car. “Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

A shadow casts across the window but the sun is resolute today. It shines regardless of the cloud cover. I want to think it’s a gift for me.

The glow, the warmth. I thrust an arm out from the nest of blankets, goosebumps lifting along my forearm.

“I’ve slept with a vampire and a Fae. A raven shifter.” The words bubble out. “I’ve slept with them at the same time and let them love me and fought off things that don’t exist in the real world.”

I shake my head.

“Except they do, because I saw them. They bleed like anything else does. The way I did. What’s worse? The sex or the monsters?” I’m disgusted with myself for even saying it out loud. Which is part of the reason I do. “Sex with monsters, Helene, clearly.”

What would Mom say if she were here?

She’d gotten her heart broken more times than I had fingers to count. After Audra’s dad left and we picked up and moved, she’d gone out. Date after date. Man after man.

A vicious cycle of wanting and giving and receiving nothing.

I push a hand through my hair. “I know what she’d say. Love is worth every ounce of heartbreak.”

But is it love when you can’t trust the other person? They’ve had millennia to get to know me in whatever form I’ve reincarnated.

What have I had? Less than a week. Four full days of insistence that I’m the sun at the center of their universe.

But get real. A devotion that spans centuries? It’s impossible. They’re enamored with a memory, an idea. Give them a month with the authentic me, the one who can’t make time for anyone, and they’ll see.

They “know” me. I don’t have the same courtesy. My body’s a thirsty bitch for those handsome strangers, but good looks only take you so far.

Sex and trust are entirely different things.

The pieces of you given away for those differ in size and importance.

Harsh footsteps echo, and I whip around to let Wren have a piece of my mind for coming back when I want space.

Forest stands at the door wearing a mixture of apprehension and contrition. The crease above his brows deepens, and the lines scoring his skin stretch across his hairline.

His cloak hangs to the ground, ax at the ready, hair a usual shade of wheat gold and two braids hanging down to his stubborn chin.