Page 32 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Chapter

Twenty-One

CORDELIA

Every scratch of thorns and brambles that pierce Duke’s skin feels so fucking earned. Such righteous judgment handed down from impartial nature.

I tear deeper into the woods, further away from the town that I hate to the depths of my being.

Further and further away from the people who ignored me, the one person who didn’t, and the fucking lies that he?—

He…

A sob wrenches free from his chest, sending nearby birds scattering from the trees in fear.

Now that the first guttering howl has escaped, I can’t hold back the flood anymore.

The leaves of the forest floor are damnably forgiving when I fall to his knees and scream.

A few brave birds screech back.

So I scream again .

And again.

And again.

Until his throat is raw and his lungs are heaving.

Until his skin slicks with sweat that drips into his eyes and stings.

Blocking out the pain of the tears that freefall down his cheeks.

I grab fistfuls of leaves, dirt, and twigs and throw them. They flutter pitifully back toward the earth. Gravity steals my momentum. Every time.

No.

No.

There has to be something that won’t beat me. That won’t silence me.

Something that won’t leave me stuck here in freefall with nothing but dirt to catch me. I claw at his skin, tear at his hair, peel his boots off his huge, stinky feet and throw them, too.

The first one hits a tree trunk with a satisfying crack , leaving a dent behind in the bark. The second sails through the air for a few feet before hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“God fucking damn it,” I scream before peeling off the rest of his clothes.

I slather his skin in mud from a nearby streambed, and then roll around, coating his body with crushed leaves and pine needles.

Chest heaving, mind spinning, I sprawl on his back on the forest floor and gaze up at the canopy of leaves above me that’s so thick, barely any sunlight filters through.

I can just…stay here.

Close his eyes and decompose into nothing.

So, I do.

Until an unignorable sensation compels me to open his eyes.

A dark green snake slithers over top of Duke’s outstretched arm.

I leap to his feet and fling the offending creature.

Shudders overtake me as I crouch on the ground. I immediately search the vicinity for more snakes, but don’t detect any distinct movement among the leaves. A few bugs scurry along creeping vines and pebbles.

A fresh wave of sobs undulates his chest in sharp, stabbing rhythms.

A twig snaps behind me, and I whirl at the sound, then promptly fall on my ass from loss of balance. There, several feet away, sits a black cat with a white patch on its chest. Its green eyes blink evenly at me.

Almost like it’s judging me for my naked, feral appearance.

It doesn’t run. Doesn’t try to hide when I reach out and rub Duke’s mud-covered fingers together. It just continues to stare at me, waiting.

“Here, kitty kitty,” I croon. “Pspspspspspsps. Come here, kitty.”

Just when I think the cat may move along to hunt, it slowly approaches.

One white-mittened paw in front of the other, its movements are hesitant, measured in a way that will allow for escape, should I prove to be a threat.

I remain perfectly still while it sniffs at Duke’s hand. After it tentatively brushes its head against Duke’s filthy skin, I use one finger to stroke its fur.

A gentle purring sound fills the silence.

Slowly, I settle onto the ground, folding Duke’s legs in a more stable position.

To my surprise, the cat doesn’t bolt from my movements. It glides its body along my left side, circles around his back, then reappears on his right, fitting itself in the triangle of space between Duke’s legs. It butts its head against Duke’s hand, prompting me to continue petting.

The purring grows louder as I stroke along its back in long, soothing motions.

Occasionally, it breaks my rhythm to rub the length of its body against Duke’s stomach, almost like it’s trying to pet me back.

I try to hold onto the next sob so I don’t scare the stray, but the emotion leaks out anyway.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper through a stuttered breath.

The cat doesn’t run, simply sits on its haunches between Duke’s legs and stares up at his face.

I resume petting. The cat places a paw on Duke’s chest, like it wants something else from me.

“What?” I chuckle through a sniffle. “You want to hear my tale of woe? Need to feel better about your wild, stray life by hearing about how shitty my human one is? ”

I startle a little at its answering meow .

Okay, then.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper.

It offers another little mew.

I resume petting its soft fur. “This used to be everything I ever wanted. A love—a mate—for myself. I knew it was silly even when the idea was the focus of every daydream, every doodle, every bedtime prayer. Just a bookworm’s fantasy that couldn’t ever come true.”

Another sob echoes through the woods.

The cat nuzzles Duke’s stomach again.

“And now? I find out that fantasy is my reality. And I?—”

Another, louder sob shreds Duke’s chest.

“I don’t want it anymore. Not—not like this. Not from the one person…”

I curl Duke’s shoulders forward and give in.

My cries are loud and obnoxious and snotty and as feral-sounding as this body that’s covered in forest filth.

Through it all, the cat remains. Doesn’t scratch me, doesn’t scramble to escape, doesn’t run from my ugly truth. When my tears are deafening, it purrs louder. When I need to catch my breath, it nudges Duke’s chest with its head. When my hysterics start all over again, it holds steady.

“So there you have it,” I whimper. “I’m just a spoiled girl pretending to be a grown woman. If the fairy tale isn’t perfect, then it’s not good enough.”

The cat rests its full body weight against my chest, and I curl Duke’s muscled arms around the furry warmth. The surrounding woods shimmers and slides like a watercolor bleeding off a canvas.

I gasp and pull Duke’s arms away, shaking his head back and forth, over and over again. I’m familiar enough now with the visions to recognize the symptoms of slipping into one.

“No,” I whisper to the cat. “Whatever this is, I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.”

The cat blinks up at me. It can’t understand, so it doesn’t flee the way it should .

“Go away,” I beg.

It doesn’t move, so I gently shove it off Duke’s lap before curling into a ball on his side.

The cat lies down beside me without touching. Then, it resumes purring.

I close my eyes and hope for sleep. With no dreams.