Charlotte leaned her head into the crook of his neck. “Mine did, but there’s a stipulation for specific abilities. It’s so rare that it almost never matters, but…”
“Poisoncraft is one of those abilities.”
“Yes.”
“What would happen if you went back?” He nuzzled the side of her head. Dom couldn’t seem to get enough of touching her now that she’d made her interest clear.
Charlotte let her eyes drift shut. “I’d have to tell them. If I got caught hiding my abilities, that would also be in breach of the contract. My parents would suffer for that too. So if I did go back and I did tell them, I would be compelled to live with the covey for a minimum of two years.”
“You’d be trapped again.”
She grimaced. The idea of being trapped again, even metaphorically, made her gorge rise. Charlotte couldn't be trapped again; not by the covey that never cared about her, not in a relationship, nothing. “Yes.”
And the likelihood that they would be willing to let such a lucrative ability slip through their claws after the two years were up? Slim to none. Fey were known for their craftiness for a reason. They would find a way to keep her there forever.
“Then you won’t go back.” Dom said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Charlotte moved forward a little, giving herself space to turn her head to look at him. “But where will I go, then? I have no job. No family aside from my parents. I have nothing and no one outside of the EVP who I can ask for help. What am I supposed to do now?”
“You don’t have nothing and no one.” Dom squeezed her tighter. His eyebrows lowered, casting his expression into a look of dark intensity. “You have a mate. You have a clan. You are not alone, glowbug. Not anymore.”
She blinked hard, the prickle of tears insistent, and skimmed her knuckles over his bent knee. “You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“What happens if you find out I’m annoying? Or incredibly high maintenance?”
Dom cracked a tiny, breathtaking smile. “I already know those things.”
Charlotte hissed and gave his knee a tiny pinch. “I am not high maintenance!”
“Well, then we have nothing to worry about.” He pressed a soft kiss to her brow. “You are perfect for me. I’m going to try every day to be perfect for you. You just have to agree to be my mate, glowbug. Nothing else matters.”
She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “Do I have to give you an answer right now?”
Could she give him an answer?
Charlotte knew in some part of her mind that this thing — them — was an inevitability. She also knew that Dom belonged to her. She saw it in his eyes; felt it in the way he held her. The possessive, lonely core of her soul craved that, loved that.
But she had also been a prisoner for over a year, and a shard of fear remained lodged in her heart. What if she said yes, but in six months he discovered he didn’t actually want her? What if she freaked out because she felt trapped? What if this was all a fucked up dream her isolated, broken mind tricked her into thinking was real?
It would be something her mind would conjure, wouldn’t it? Millie and the feyrunner dead. Her parents healthy and waiting for her. An incredibly rare magical ability sprung from nowhere. A handsome, grumpy, possessive demon that wanted nothing more than to pet her and make her happy?
Charlotte felt cold sweat dew along her hairline. Panic was a raw ache in her throat. What if all of this slips away from me?
“Shh, glowbug.” Dom stroked her bare arms. His calluses scraped against her skin, sending delicious bolts of friction across her nerves. “It’s okay. I am not going to pressure you.”
Charlotte curled her fingers into Dom’s corded forearms and bent forward. She tried to catch her breath, but it was hard to find the oxygen when panic sucked up all the air in her lungs.
“I just— I’m so afraid that none of this is real and that I’m going to wake up in the m-siphon any minute,” she babbled, finally letting loose the torrent of emotion that she’d held at bay since her release. “And even if this is all real and I’m free and Millie is dead and I have you, what if I mess it up? What if I’m not what you want? What if—”
Charlotte dug her claws into Dom’s forearm, her chest seizing. “You said that I probably didn’t see my life turning out with me mated to a demon, but Dom, I can’t imagine you not in my life. And that’s so fucking scary. When Millie went for the bolt gun, the only thing I could think of was you and what would happen if I lost you and I just can’t do it.”
Dom pressed his lips against the nape of her neck. His arms were a tight band around her chest — almost too tight — but she welcomed it. The squeeze grounded her. It reminded her that he had to be real, that he had to want her. She couldn’t have conjured him from her imagination, and he wouldn’t hold her like he worried she would disappear if he didn’t want her.
Right?
“Charlotte.” His voice was a hard rasp. “Breathe for me. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay to feel this way. I’d be scared too, if I were you.”