I want you forever.
A fireworks display went off inside me, lighting up every part of my soul, and my eyes stung. How many years had I spent in my room at the hutch, imagining someone would break down the walls, scoop me into their arms, and say those exact words before rescuing me from that hell?
"Really? Even though I've killed lots of shadowkind, and I have nightmares, and there are really bad people hunting me?"
Sang's eyes opened wider, the yellow of his irises glowing. "Mav can kill them like he killed my bad person. I'm not worried. Or I can cut them up for you and we can barbecue their—"
"Ah, I'm not really … a fan of eating people? Just animals."
He took a second to process that and nodded. "Just animals. Okay. I'll only bring you animals."
"Not live ones!" I rushed out, a laugh bubbling in my chest.
"Okay, dead ones," he agreed. "No live ones. No people. Sang can do this."
Ahhh, why was it cute when he spoke in third person about himself but really cliché when other people did it? Was it because I liked him? Really, really, deeply liked him? My initial reaction to that was to shrink away from the fact, but he liked me too.
"What about ramen?" he asked, suddenly intent on my face. "Do you eat ramen? I have lots of ramen."
"Uhh. What's ramen?" I tried not to wince, expecting raw meat that probably—definitely—still had skin and hair attached to it.
Sang rushed to his feet, carrying meandVoid’s duvet with him, one big hand balancing my backside while he carried us to a table across the room beside his bed. There was a kettle on it, and a giant pyramid of colourful plastic cups.
"I'll make you every kind I have, and we can find your favourite. Stay here."
I thought he'd set me on the bed, but instead he lifted me onto his shoulder, and I yelped, grabbing his horns for stability, eliciting a low chuckle as Void’s duvet fell to the floor.
"Feels good, sweet human. But don't stroke, or I might forget all about your food."
I was tempted to ignore him and do exactly that, dreading whatever waited inside those plastic cups, but when he tore the lids off four of them, what was inside looked safe. Ish. It wasn't raw meat, at least.
I'd been pretty sheltered, even when I escaped the hutch, only buying things I recognised from the shelves at the supermarket. I had no idea what the coils of yellow stuff in the cup was. I watched with a frown as Sang poured hot water into each cup, boiling the yellow stuff to death.
"What, exactly, is that?" I asked, my nose wrinkled as he folded the foil lids back over the cups and picked them all up in his big hands, carrying them—and me—back to the nest.
"The best kind of food," he answered.
I yelped, tightening my grip on his horns as Sang knelt and placed the cups on the floor before getting comfy in the cushions. The cotton fabric of the tent brushed the top of my head, but I noticed it was tall enough to fit Sang's big frame.
"You can stay up there, sweet human. I'm happy to have your hands on my horns. But if you come down here, I can kiss you."
My stomach took off in another explosion of butterflies. "I'd like to come down. I don't love heights."
They didn't terrify me, or I couldn't have jumped from balcony to balcony, but I'd rather avoid them if possible.
Sang gave a low rumbling sound—a purr?—and helped me down, nestling me on his lap and dragging a soft, furry blanket over our legs. Soft claws ran through my hair, pressing me closer to him, and Sang laid a kiss on top of my head.
"I'm sad I missed you turning that shadowkind into a puddle," he sighed mournfully, nuzzling my shoulder with his cheek. "I bet you're pretty when you kill."
"I didn't mean to kill him. He just touched me and I remembered—things. And accidentally killed him."
"I bet you're even prettier when you kill on purpose," he sighed, a low purr in his chest, shaking my body, strangely comforting.
"Do you always talk about killing?" I asked, and wondered why I was smiling, why my chest felt lighter than it had all day.
"Usually," Sang replied brightly, cuddling me closer. "Wanna watch an anime?"
"Uh, sure," I agreed, not wanting to tell him I'd never watched one before. I knew what they were, unlike the strange cup of maybe-food, but I'd only ever watched what the keepers played on the rec room TV, which were usually old Western films and outdated soap shows.