Their eyes locked, sapphire on emerald, and with the wind and the sun and Reardon’s rosy cheeks, he looked far too beautiful and breakable to be standing before a monster that yearned to touch.

It had been so long since Jack had touched someone, since someone had touched him, and Reardon was something special but dangerous that shook Jack to his core and made him wonder what it might be like to melt.

I was running away, but this time, it felt like I ran toward something, rather than from. Glancing at my phone, I wondered if Chast was that goal.

I am focusing so hard on keeping my breathing calm, when I feel his pinky finger rub against mine. It’s so gentle that he could easily be doing it in his sleep, but based on his breathing, he isn’t asleep yet. No, he’s choosing to touch me, no matter how little it is. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he softly wraps his pinky around mine. We are holding pinkies. This can’t be real. Almost immediately, I hear his breathing even out as he drifts to sleep, with me following not far behind. We fall asleep holding each other’s pinkies. It’s the smallest gesture, but it brings me so much comfort.

Well, now he’d gone and done it—not only was he clearly mad, he’d gone and alienated his own hallucination somehow. Plainly, Nathaniel wasn’t meant to get along with anyone, including the figments of his own imagination.

Actually, the fair balance of good versus evil is 90 to 10. Because evil is so visible and so much more impactful, it takes a hell of a lot less of it to make the world seem like it’s falling apart.

His touch was clumsy, but soft and gentle—not so his forehead crashing down against Nathaniel’s, which connected with a painful bang. “I feel badly,” Adair whispered. “About bruising me with your massive goat head?” Nathaniel said with a wince and a laugh. He couldn’t resist kissing the tip of Adair’s nose. “No.” The faun frowned. “Yes, but no. About earlier, I meant.”

“Want to see if we can make it happen again?”
Varazda looked up in surprise.
“What—right now?”
“Yes, of course right now! Immortal gods. We’re sitting on your bed, talking about how beautiful you are and whether or not you like sex—it’s surprising I even needed to say anything.”
“I am literally a eunuch, First Spear.”

Throughout history, people fought back when the government took too much. Wars were started, heads were chopped, tea was dumped… And those who fought were called out as the enemy, troublemakers, vigilantes, villains.

“Pain isn’t something to compare. We all feel and heal differently. There is no way to judge one person’s pain over another, nor should we. We each have our own journeys of healing and grief.”

“Will, we need to find Isa. He’s missing.” Alex put the phone on speaker.
“Have you tried looking under Briar? He’s a big boy, you know. He could easily stash him in a back pocket. I volunteer to search him, if you aren’t free.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes but began to back away.
“This isn’t over. Blood is thicker than water.”
“I think you’ll find you got that quote wrong. ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ Found family, bitch. It’s stronger than your toxic brain-washing.”

Even my sour attitude can’t seem to affect him the same way I could at first. I glare at him, and he smiles back. He’s not afraid of me. Not that it’s much of a surprise given how he burrows against me each night. I think the overnight cuddling is messing with my natural fuck-off vibes.

Lorsque tu réalises que tu n’es pas hétéro, que tu n’es pas né avec le paramètre par défaut que la société s’attend à ce que tu aies, faire ton coming-out devient très important. Tu planifies la conversation encore et encore dans ta tête. Tu espères que tu seras accepté et pourtant imagines comment tu te sentirais, comment tu le supporterais, si tu ne l’étais pas. Ce moment est l’apogée de l’acceptation de soi, de la personne que tu es depuis ta naissance, et tu es prêt pour que tes proches adhèrent à ton parcours. C’est un jour que tu n’oublies jamais.

Rotting remains of creatures from my world littered the ground, chunks of gore raining down when they were caught in the explosions. A pointless waste of life, but humans had always been strangely cavalier about the lives of others, while remaining terrified of death themselves.

“I know you’re mine. I know it. Deep down, in that part of my brain that doesn’t care what is right or how society dictates how people choose a mate. I chose you. I want you. Just you. My brain has picked you, and now, I can’t undo it. You’re trapped. With me. For life.”

We were two broken men, but together we made each other whole.

“I just told you monsters have been in the cities for a long time. Have you ever heard of a monster attack in a city? Have you ever heard even the slightest rumour of a monster in a city?”

“Well… no, but—”

“So most are not there to hurt humans, Hunter. Truthfully, the majority of monsters do not want to harm humans. Just as the majority of humans do not want to harm others. But it is always the ones who do that you hear about. Yes?”

Ugh, I hated when Edin spoke sense.

“I guess,” I grumbled.

— Mais qu’est-ce que t’avais fumé quand on a fait les courses ? On dirait que t’étais possédé par une pie !

— Je crois que j’étais distrait, avoua Mal doucement.

Il avait passé bien davantage de temps à regarder Kismet sélectionner les objets sur les étagères qu’à remplir le chariot, et il avait jeté des choses dans le panier au pif, culpabilisant, pour faire semblant d’être occupé. Il avait déjà découvert deux ensembles de salières et poivrières, et qui savait ce qui se tapissait encore dans les boîtes qu’il leur restait.

— Je ne t’emmène plus avec moi. J’ai l’impression que dès que tu vois quelque chose qui a l’air à peu près domestique, tu le jettes dans le tas !

Éclatant de rire, Kismet saisit un tablier, ses dentelles à fanfreluches pendouillant par-dessus le bord du carton.

— T’as de sérieux problèmes. Mec, il y a encore des bols là-dedans ! Qu’est-ce que t’as foutu ?

— J’aime bien les bols.

I loved these soft, sweet kisses I shared with my little bird just as much as the more demanding and desperate ones he tended to give during the throes of passion. Seeing the different sides of him and watching him grow more comfortable with us made my chest warm and my heart flutter.
His sweet innocence was a treasure I wanted to protect in this harsh world we lived in. Finding these happy moments in between the blood and pain reminded me of the freedom I wished to fight for, the freedom I’d never had.

“Captain Flynn has no intentions of murdering you.”
We pushed the boat into the water before hopping inside.
“How do you know?”
I was sure to place my lute in the center to keep it from getting wet, just in case water splashed up into the boat with our rowing.
“Because you didn’t see the way he looked at you,” Alek spoke in a softer voice.
His blue eyes mirrored that softness.
“As if you were the stars, and he was the sailor lost at sea, looking to you to find his way.”

I was reborn the day I became a pirate. For the first time in my life, I’d found a purpose. A home.

The van stops in front of a squat square house with a large crack in the stone steps leading to the entrance.
“Your accommodations for the evening, my lords.”
Detective Cuevas turns, smirking at them from the front passenger seat.
Having traveled light, they grab their respective bags and head inside. The stone construction of the outside continues within the interior. It’s a single room with no pictures or decorations, only the most basic necessities: a twin-sized bed with a quilt, a wash basin, a chair. A naked light bulb hangs overhead, and a door in the back corner leads to a narrow bathroom with a toilet and shower.
“At least there’s hot water?” the detective says.
She lifts her chin, snide.
“There’s a kind of crappy hotel down the road, but they had a pipe burst yesterday, so this is the best we’ve got under short notice. You rich, upper-crust purebreds probably aren’t used to dumpy places like this. My apologies for your discomfort.”
Haruka is bent and rummaging through his bag against the bed, but he stands straight, eyeing the detective.
“Why do you insult these people’s way of living in your attempt to mock us?” The detective scoffs.
“Please. You know what I mean—”
“I do not. Our accommodations are modest but adequate. The people of this town may live a different lifestyle than ours, but your judgment is insensitive.”
“Seriously?” she pushes back. “You’re going to stand here and act like their lifestyles are just ‘different’ from yours? You live in a beautiful, sprawling estate in one of the wealthiest countries in the world and want for nothing—living life happy dappy. Meanwhile, these people are penniless, starving and living in squalor.”
“What is your intent behind this declaration?” Haruka asks. “What should we do?”
The detective starts, frowning.
“I—I don’t know… donate or something.”
“We do. To numerous causes. What else?”
“Look. I know you can’t just swoop in and save a whole country, alright? I’m just saying that these people are probably suffering. It’s not just about ‘lifestyles.’”
“In my experience, misery and suffering exist in many forms, and contentment can be found in the humblest of circumstances. I feel that the true danger lies in making shallow comparisons and broad assumptions.”
She turns toward the door, sneering.
“Right. I guess I haven’t lived long enough yet in my meager second-gen life to reach such high levels of enlightenment. I’ll be back in the morning, my lords.”
She offers a shallow bow, then leaves.
“What the hell is her problem?” Nino frowns.
“Why is she so bitter toward us? Should I tell her that even though I lived in a fancy house, I was being abused? That my mom died when I was eight and my entire community ostracized me—like I was a stain on society? Is my suffering invalid because I grew up in a ‘sprawling estate’?”
“Ignore her. Whatever issue she has, it is within herself.”

The ride into town is rough, dusty and jostling against the road. Nino doesn’t bother looking over at his house cat of a mate, afraid of what he might see: eyes like daggers that read “I had to leave the comfort of my library for this? A nauseating ride in a toy bus?”

“The situation is indeed multifaceted,” says Haruka. “But perhaps any complex, emotional relationship is guaranteed to have some element of… messiness?”

Winter had fed him, healed him, protected him, and given him more than enough clothes to keep him happy and comfortable for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need to do any of those things. He could have treated Fox like the prisoner he said he was. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? A fucked-up vampire version of Beauty and the Beast? Well, if he started talking to the appliances, he’d know he was fucked. No, Fox immediately took that back. He talked to his coffeemaker every damn day, thanking it for blessing him with its caffeinated goodness.