Page 11

Chapter 11

Jasper

H e wasn’t getting better. He wasn’t going to get better. And watching Caleb come to terms with that, realizing he cared, was awful.

Jasper could’ve told him what was wrong, but what would that fix? Saying he couldn’t feed off Caleb would make it seem like that was what he’d wanted all along, right? Like he’d just asked Caleb to bed so he could recover and move on. And it wouldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t feed off him. That was a problem somewhere inside Jasper, not another shitty inconvenience to put on Caleb’s plate.

He’d never told a human what he was. He’d seen the lust in their eyes, let it play out, but humans remained largely ignorant of the supernatural. They were far from the only creatures on the planet though. And none who knew about incubi particularly liked them. If Caleb didn’t hate him on principle, knowing what he was would reframe their whole time together, every kiss and smile and soft touch. He wanted to leave them as they were in Caleb’s memory—the way he actually meant them.

After how kind Caleb had been, it wasn’t that Jasper was certain he’d hate him, but he wasn’t ready for the easy dismissal —the assumption that Caleb finally knew what Jasper was about. He was a demon, and a leeching one at that.

Much to his father’s disappointment, he wasn’t even any good at it.

Jasper was curled up on the couch again. Caleb had set the remote on the arm of the couch near his head, but it was an awful lot of effort to twist around, grab it, and commit to watching something on the TV.

His eyes stung. He wanted to cry. He hadn’t been sick since he’d hit puberty and demoned out, but when he was a kid, he’d had the flu a few times. Always, at some point, he’d get so fucking sick of being sick he’d melt into a puddle of tears.

This was worse, because he had a feeling that when he stopped being sick, that was it.

At the edge of his consciousness, he heard an annoying buzz, but it wasn’t until Caleb walked to the bedside table, frowned down at it, and brought him his phone that he remembered it existed at all.

Out in the woods, he’d been without signal for days. And, well, he felt like shit and hadn’t wanted to talk to anybody. It was hard to make friends when you got everyone all hot and bothered. His family weren’t the sorts of people you wanted to expose your vulnerabilities to, generally speaking, and Jasper was already the weak link there.

“I think someone’s trying to get in contact with you,” Caleb said as he approached the couch, Jasper’s phone in his outstretched hand.

Jasper lifted his head, blinking some of the stinging tears from his eyes. He smiled. “Thanks.”

All the text messages he’d gotten in the last few days hit one after the other.

Sasha: Did it work?

Sasha: Helloooo???

Sasha: I went to see Poppy. She said you’d be fine. Are you fine?

He was pretty decidedly not fine, but it didn’t sound like Poppy’d pointed him the wrong way on purpose . With a flick of his thumb, he scrolled on.

Sasha: Jasper.

Sasha: Jasper, you can’t just disappear on me forever.

Sasha: Jasper, are you okay??

Sasha: Listen, I know things are fucked up. This isn’t really... for you. I get it. But you’re my brother, and I need to know you’re okay. If you need to disappear, fine, but can you just let me know you’re okay first?

Sasha: . . . I really hope it worked.

Malcolm: Dad wants us all over for dinner tonight. Text me.

The last, Jasper could ignore. Elrith wouldn’t want anything to do with an incubus who couldn’t even keep himself standing. But he owed more to Sasha than that.

Shifting in his seat to free up both hands, he typed her a quick message.

I’m fine. Promise. I met someone. Tell you all about it soon. I love you.

He sent the message off and tucked his phone between the couch cushion and the arm of the seat like that’d block out the signal again. He liked things better when the outside world didn’t try and creep in. He didn’t want to think about what else he’d leave behind if he didn’t recover.

“Everything all right?” Caleb asked.

It was obvious he wanted to press for more, but he caught himself. Already, Jasper was holding him too far away. Maybe he couldn’t tell Caleb what he wanted to know, but he could tell him some stuff. If Caleb could see him as a person, that’d be wonderful.

“Yeah. Just... family stuff. Do you have a sister?”

Caleb grunted. After a long moment, he shrugged then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Mine worries. Her name’s Sasha. Um, we have the same dad? Different moms though. She was, uh, already living with Dad when I met him the first time.” Even though he and Sasha were roughly the same age, girls hit puberty sooner. It seemed like a rough deal, really. Being an incubus sucked enough a few years closer to adulthood. Jasper had always been glad he was a boy, if only because it meant having a normal life that much longer. He wished he’d known what was coming, though, so he could have enjoyed that time more. “She was just checking up on me. I guess I kind of dropped off the radar?”

Jasper chewed his lip for a second, then dropped his cheek on his knee and turned his head so he could keep looking at Caleb without having to hold it up. “But this...” He waved at himself. “Getting sick—it’s not really part of the McKittack family creed.”

Caleb crossed his arms, but the annoyance that furrowed his brow wasn’t directed at Jasper. “People get sick. That’s not your fault. Your family wouldn’t stand beside you through it?”

“Sasha, maybe, but I think they’d mostly blame me for it.” Caleb looked like he wanted to hit someone. Best if they moved on. “You’re a shifter?”

Caleb nodded. “Bear.”

Jasper chuckled. “That makes complete sense.” When he turned, no doubt Caleb would be enormous and fluffy and wonderful. It’d be so cool to run his fingers through Caleb’s fur. “Were you always able to turn?”

Caleb shook his head. He perched on the coffee table, so Jasper didn’t have to turn his head quite as much to meet his eyes.

“Me either,” Jasper admitted. “I mean, I don’t shift that much. I just... wasn’t always, uh, what I am. And we’re supposed to, like, rally to it. Paranormal pride and all that. But I don’t think—” Jasper swallowed hard. “I don’t think what I am, what we are, is good.”

It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud, despite how the worry had bounced around in his head for years. His eyes started to sting again, but then there was a broad, warm hand pressed flat against his cheek. Caleb didn’t hesitate to comfort him for a single second.

“I do,” Caleb said, deep voice so soft it matched Jasper’s broken whisper. “What we are isn’t who we are. You are good, Jasper Jones.”

Jasper’s bottom lip trembled, so he bit it. A moment later, when a tear streaked down from the corner of his eye over the bridge of his nose and toward his knee, Caleb caught it on a fingertip and brushed it away.

“You too, Caleb.”