Ren sets his jaw, his eyes glassy in the overcast, shadowy light of the room. “What does that mean?”
“You’re possessive. You feed from me and every thought in your head pours into me, telling me that I belong to you. That I should love and want only you, and I can never do better. No one else can ever have me. It’s manipulative and the same kind of shit that my father would say to my mother. Maybe that’s how you love, but it’s not the kind of love I want.”
Because of Ren and my father, I didn’t even want love for the longest time. If that’s what love is, fuck it. I’m much better off without it.
But sometimes, something like a soft whisper would sneak its way through the thicket of thorns and bramble in my chest. I’d remember the sound of music and laughter, and the smell of cinnamon and fruit baking, chocolate and rainy days indoors when the estate was quiet because my father was gone. That was love, too. A different, softer brand that gave instead of took. That liberated instead of stifled.
Miraculously, I found that kind of love again. With Jae. Everything he is warms me and pulls me back to those good, quiet moments—pushing the joy, exhilaration and safety I felt to the forefront. His quirky, sparkling sense of humor and how he makes me laugh, his passion and sincerity for helping people and the way he slowly let all his walls down and trusted me completely.
But instead of holding on to that—to him—I got scared and pushed him away. And I ruined his birthday.
“So I’m giving you the wrong kind of love?” Ren scowls, the volume of his voice escalating. “I don’t know what that means? I’ve given you everything. I’ve let you tramp across Europe for decades now, sticking your cock and fangs into God only knows who and what! Playing with your silly clothes and making your business—”
“Listen to yourself. You keep saying you ‘let me’ do things, Ren. But I don’t belong to you. You don’t own me.”
“But I do, Violet.” He sits straighter, and the light behind his eyes warms, slowly shifting into bright golden. “You are mine. You were given to me when I turned sixteen, and we’ve always been together. That is the contract—”
“The contract is terminated.” I unfold my legs, because everything in me is screaming that I should get up and leave. I know my actions haven’t been perfect toward him, either. I know. But he’s not hearing me at all. There’s no use explaining.
He leans into me, his voice low but laced with menace. “Fuck the contract. You can never walk away from me, Violet. I will never let you go.”
He’s too close to my face, so I move to stand up, but it’s too late. He lifts his fingers and I inhale a breath just before my throat practically closes in on itself, as if there’s a heavy brace or shackle wrapped around my neck but on the inside.
I can’t breathe as I’m forced back down to the floor, onto my knees, and my eyes bulge and water. But a second later I hear the paper door slide open. I can’t move or see anything, only Ren in front of me. He freezes, stiff as a board, and the pressure in my throat and body dissipates.
I drop down on all fours and heave, the air of the room burning as it passes through my aching, dry throat. When I’m able to glance up, Nino is there with his eyes alighted in that pretty apricot color and his hand outstretched toward Ren. He’s holding him completely still on his knees, and only Ren’s eyes are darting around.
“Are you alright?” Nino blinks at me. “I’m so sorry, Jun—Haru was texting me and I got distracted. He rarely even touches his phone, you know? So I have to encourage that behavior.”
I’m still on all fours, but now I’m laughing and shaking my head. “I’m fine,” I breathe out. “I’m alright.” Nino’s ability gets more and more impressive every time I see it. He subjugated Ren easily, but I guess that’s the power of two bonded purebreds against one.
Nino brightens, still holding Ren in the sunset-colored grasp of his aura. “Haru had good news. Jae called him and they found a match for us—she’s one of the refugees from Socotra! It’s happening!”
I smile, genuinely happy for them, but also quietly noting that Jae has the time to call Haruka but not me. “That’s great, Nino. Congratulations.”
Before we leave the Miyoshi estate, Ren’s father pulls me aside and offers to waive the contract termination fee entirely in exchange for me staying silent about the things Ren has done to me. I told him I’ll pay the fee. I’m not going to walk around broadcasting any of this, but if someone asks me, I won’t lie, either. There’s no way in hell I’d let anyone walk into that situation blindly.
April
Forty-Two
Jae
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing on the warmth of the sun on my face combined with the soft chirping of birdsong just beyond the small window above my head. I can smell the woods, pollen and flowers in the air. Oak and juniper, wisteria and magnolia. The residual nighttime condensation settled on tree leaves and the dampness of the grass and soil. If I concentrate, I can smell and sense all of it. It’s divine.
For a while, it bombarded me, like I was sensing too many things at once and they were attacking me. But as time goes on, I can pick each element apart—how different the atmosphere smells whether it’s been dry or rainy, or whether the air is still or the wind is wild, and I can discern new scents floating in from the neighboring village or all the way from the bigger city.
I’m a dog in human form, essentially.
When I open my eyes, I’m staring up at the exposed ceiling. The room is flooded with morning sunlight—wide rays of it, with tiny flecks of dust floating and dancing in between the brightness and shadows.
My tablet buzzes on the floor beside me. I hesitate when I see the name of the caller, but then I set it up on a box just in front of me and sit up straighter, folding my legs. I swipe my finger against the screen to answer the video call and smile. “Hey.”
Junichi leans forward into the camera so that I can only see his cheek, which is partially covered in a dark, neatly trimmed beard. “What do you think?” he asks. “Better, right?”
“What am I looking at, exactly?”
“My skin. The shade is better, don’t you think?”
I shake my head. Junichi is on this path. In my head, I call it “The Path of Mild Starvation.” I know that what he’s doing is very important to him, but he looks like hell. He has for the past five months. But he definitely looks better than he did in December. The first several weeks were especially rough on him.
“I’m not sure, Jun. It still seems a bit brownish-gray to me.”
Junichi sits up from the camera, pouting. “Really? I swore I looked better today.”
“Maybe I can’t see well through the camera? It could be the lighting.”
He folds his arms, grinning. He’s sitting in his living room on that posh, velvety sunflower sofa. I miss that sofa. I have both very good and not great memories of that sofa.
“You’re probably right,” he says. “I feel good though. This week has been the best yet. It’s been five months as of… yesterday?”
“Congratulations, Jun.”
“Muchas gracias. And thank you for picking up and talking to me.”
“I’m not busy at the moment.”
“Good timing, then. I heard that you set up Nino’s appointment to have his bio sample retrieved. He’s freaking out about it a little.”
