Condemned

40 | Jael

Well, that's one less thing to worry about. She ain't a virgin anymore!

I shift my lower leg, roll the ankle, trying my best not to wake her. I put some distance between my neck and shoulder until there's a pop of relief. Then I try to go back to sleep, but I can't seem to clear my head to the same degree as before.

It's one less thing out of like, a thousand, I remind myself. And I didn't use protection or any restraint with her. It throws another worry into the pot.

I'm the product of a careless, human-shifter affair, so it's something to be mindful of in the future.

I was actually mindful this time. Hard to believe, I know. Truth be told, it was a choice, one she didn't seem to disagree with. I wanted to make sure, beyond any reasonable doubt, that she is no longer compatible with the next phase of Ivy's process.

And, I figure, if Sam wants to stay with me on a broader scale, and we get through the next few days, we'll scratch off a few more worries. This new one won't be the most troublesome in the mix.

I can't believe I'm thinking about babies, and I'm not running to the nearest toilet.

What if those days never happen. . .

I don't want to disrupt my own peace right now, something that's taken my entire life to achieve, by jumping from one nightmarish scenario to another. If all goes poorly, I simply conclude that nine months won't come to be. It's sad—enough to make the pillow damp—but true.

Sam, unexpectedly, yawns and rolls over to face me. She intertwines our bare legs, runs a delicate hand up my backside, and nuzzles her face into my neck. "Are you crying?" she asks between some very arousing mouth grazes.

"No," I answer, sniffling. With my eyes closed, I'm smiling a little, knowing I got snagged, and I'm just waiting for her to say something. I'm also happy we're finally here—where I always wanted to be but never had a direct path. It required isolation, neglect, doubt, suffering, running, murder, you name it . . . but still, we arrived and it was everything I hoped it'd be. And now that I have her... "Yes," I correct myself before she has a chance to call me out on the lie. "I have more to lose, now, and it's just . . . haunting. I did sleep, for a little while, but now, certain things won't let me."

"Me neither." Sam emits a long, thoughtful sigh that sets off alarm bells.

I roll to my back and tug her against me. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I? Is there anything I could do better next time? If there is a 'next time.' If I rushed you or took liberties I shouldn't have, I'm sorry. I mean, it's a good thing, it's done, not just because I wanted it, and I hope you wanted it, too. It's just—"

"Whoa! Slow down there," she lifts her head to say. Then she settles into a position for long-term comfort—her head on my shoulder, her body cradled in my arm, her leg draped over mine. "I'm adjusting to this new reality, and I love it. I really do." She sets a hand on my stomach, and I feel the slight hand motions that accompany almost every word. "I have no regrets. Not really..."

Raindrops begin tapping against the window behind us. I was going to ask this anyway, "You have regrets?" At least now, I'm not as anxious about it. The rain, if it escalates, will buy us some time. The conditions aren't great for either tracking or traveling. We're light on supplies, unless we can dig some up in this house, and may as well stay here until Sam's clothes are finished drying. I cut the power, so the air is all we've got.

"That's not what I meant." She shudders out a headshake, gives herself a pause for thought, and then sighs again. "I should just spell this out. Beating around the bush is never going to accomplish anything."