Page 47 of Blood Moon

“No, it’s fine,” I promised. “I want to,” I said, and I fiddled with my fingers as I tried to string together the words I wanted to say.

They stuck to the bottom of my throat, unwilling and stubborn.

A swallow, and I looked to him. “I’ve never said this to anyone, never even said it out loud, but I am deeply afraid …

that I am an unlovable person,” I uttered, hoping the lightness of my breath would mask my proclamation.

Still, I felt the fracture in my chest, my spine bending at the weight of the truth.

I dropped my gaze, regretful and desperately trying to rewind time, to annihilate the words that split through the air.

In regression, I observed Julian’s hands.

Short, clean nails. Light brown skin. He moved them from the car to his lap, where he folded them together.

It was the feeling of his eyes on me that tried to reel me in; he wanted me to see him, behold the look on his face as he spoke.

“Mira,” he started, reaching a thumb to my cheek.

Fingers stroked my jaw, willing my gaze to his.

Then, a gentle breath, before, “I cannot fathom a universe where someone like you could ever be unlovable.” When he dropped his hand, it found the top of mine.

A tender, weighted reminder that he was here, speaking a different version of what I believed to be true.

Finally, my gaze found his. Soft, eager eyes staring into the depths of me, diving toward my center.

“You’ve said otherwise,” I reminded, and I hadn’t meant to bring it up again, but what he’d stated, that day in class, had set me into an endless helix, and I believed every word, perhaps even before I’d met him. A miserable existence …

Julian moved closer, so close he was all I could see. “I didn’t know you the way I know you now.” He gulped, searching my face. “I regret what I said to you that day. It was idiotic, meaningless. I hadn’t considered that it would affect you like this, and I’m sorry.”

The breeze brushed my hair into my face, and I moved it back.

“But that’s just it, Julian. You hardly know me.

I’m not always kind and witty. Sometimes I’m detached and cruel and selfish.

Sometimes I want to destroy everything in my path and run away from the consequences.

” And I looked down at some of the old scars on my hands, memories from the mirrors I’d broken, the countless objects I’d obliterated.

Only, what wasn’t marked on me was the way I’d yelled at Bobby, the way I’d distanced myself from my friends.

How catty I’d been around everyone after Rena left.

“Sometimes I’m an awful person,” I finished.

Julian stayed close, and when the next breeze came, he pushed my hair away for me, slid it behind my ear, lingered there.

“Do you think those qualities determine someone’s ability to love you?

” He furrowed his brows. “Everyone ends up being the bad guy at some point. It’s a terrible feeling, but it doesn’t make you unlovable. ”

Away, I looked away, pressed my lips into a hard, thin line.

Julian didn’t see how quickly Rena had left.

Didn’t know how she was once everywhere, and suddenly nowhere.

My toes curled; my hands balled at the reminder of it.

I wanted to pierce the universe with my nails until the galaxies burst out around the seams. Because even if she’d left to protect me …

“Say it …” he whispered, aware of how I wrestled with the thoughts in my head, and I wasn’t going to say it because I didn’t think it mattered, but …

“If I were lovable, it would have been harder for her to leave,” I said, biting down on the words. My throat was ablaze, and the edges of my vision blurred.

“Or maybe she loved you too much, and she had to go.”

I wiped my face. “Maybe,” I mumbled. It was difficult for me to fully grasp Rena’s decision to leave.

Even knowing what I knew now, it didn’t make it more palatable.

If she truly loved me or Bobby, how could she vanish in the blink of an eye, knowing it would destroy us?

I was not okay. I had not been okay. I’d needed her day in and day out, and after years of bleak nothingness, all she could send was an unaddressed letter and a pendant that felt like it brought more harm than good.

She left us unprotected and unaware of this bounty, of the existence of vampires and werewolves. These acts … they were unforgivable.

When my face was clear, I said, “But thank you, Julian. Thanks for listening, for responding how you did. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said quietly, and we were both wordless for a long while, until eventually, he left space between us.

“After all that,” I said, happy to no longer be talking about myself. “You have to tell me a secret.”

He leaned back on his hands. “Easy now. You already know my deepest one.”

“I know what you are, not who you are,” I corrected.

The light in the sky dimmed, and when a draft swept past us, it nipped at our arms, forcing chills. In a murmur, Julian said, “I think I might be a monster.” He spoke it so sincerely, without the slightest stutter of hesitation. It worried me.

“Because of what you are?” I asked, and I could see how much his eyes had hardened while he looked into the distance.

“What I am. What I’m capable of. I’ve seen how the beast inside has taken over people I love. It is unforgiving, what it can do, what’s required. And there is a constant battle between who I want to be, and what I’m destined to be.”

“Destined?”

“Because of who my mother was, I am destined to be Alpha … to take the seat at a throne I never asked for.” Mothers and their pesky bloodlines, I thought. Tragic.

“I can see how that might cause internal conflict,” I said, realizing how Julian and I were different sides of the same coin.

“But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a monster.

I’ve seen you transform into what is supposed to be considered a monster.

I’ve also witnessed you be an absolute ass without consequence, and yet …

I’ve seen you be gentle … I’ve seen you be loyal …

you saved my life, a cost that can never be repaid.

And look at you, you’re here now, being open and honest with me.

A terrible monster could not do those things. ”

I watched his face set and shift. It was difficult to discern if he believed me.

There was something dreary materializing in his eyes—more he didn’t say—but he turned to me, hopped off the hood of the jeep.

“It’s getting dark. We should head back,” he said, offering a hand to help me down. I held it but refused to move.

“And also, Julian …” I said. He watched me closely, waited. “Destiny is something that you own. You have the power to mold it into whatever it is you want it to be. No one else can. Nothing else can. Just you.”

He held a timid smile while I slid off the hood, walking me to the passenger side of the car. “Thank you, Mira,” he said, opening the door, and I climbed in.

Inside the car, Julian pressed play on the album I’d selected from earlier.

We drove with the windows down, inviting in the evening air and starlight.

For the first time in the history of forever, we had a normal conversation.

We discussed our majors, dream jobs, places we wanted to travel to, and in the open space between our seats, I grabbed Julian’s free hand and held it in mine.

Because he wasn’t alone in his darkness, and neither was I.

At some point during the drive, Seven texted me:

Miss you

Wish you were here cheering us on

I missed Seven, too, I did, but that feeling slipped into an evanescing flutter.

I was unsure how to respond, or if I wanted to.

It was just that being around Julian disrupted every line I once drew, and I didn’t know where to place him, or what I was supposed to do with these feelings pushing inside me, forcing my organs to move into places they wouldn’t ordinarily be, sitting in my womb with a pulse and a thud, another heart beneath my own.

Sugar coated our lips as we left a local creamery, and we returned to Julian’s dorm to finish Van Helsing. It was deeply surprising to find that over an hour of the movie remained.

Spoiler: The damsel in distress didn’t live to see the end.

A fortune I was not, at all, happy with.

Due to this circumstance, I insisted we watch a comedy to balance out the ether, and I appreciated how seraphic Julian was, not arguing or giving me shit.

He simply found a romantic comedy, and it was his laugh I heard as my eyes fell heavy and my head collapsed into a nod, dragging me to sleep.

Julian touched my arm. “Mira,” he whispered. “You’re falling asleep.” I sat upright, rubbed at my eyes. We were still in our allocated spots on the bed. “Want me to walk you to your dorm?”

I blinked, remembering the emptiness there. The fear. The window overlooking the uninviting forest. The wolves. The vampires. I shook my head. “Can I stay here with you?”

He scanned his low-lit room, flashes of light coloring the dark green plants, the spines of worn books, those encased maps.

A candle there on the counter, the wax melted around the flame.

He slid off the bed and stood with a look of contemplation.

“Sure,” he said. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. ”

His two-seater wouldn’t even comfortably fit a quarter of him. “I’m not making you sleep on that thing.”

“I’ve slept in worse spots. I’ll be fine.”

“No.” I folded my arms like a child. “This is your room, and I insist.”

He scratched at the fuzz on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, and to be fair, we’ve shared the bed before. Even if it was an accident.”

Julian’s face flushed, and he glanced at the floor, a smirk creeping in. “If that’s what you want.”