Page 30 of My Demon Neighbor
Matthew: Oh, hello, stranger. Congrats on finding your mate! How long ago did you tell him? If it was less than two days ago, you need to wait!
Dakota: Congrats, Pythor! I'm so happy for you! You need to stop being an impatient idiot and wait for him to talk to you. (This is Star, BTW) But don't be too patient! (Ryk) Don't listen to these two. Just give your mate some time. (Nico) What Nico said. (Dakota.)
I shook my head, throwing my phone on the couch as I slumped into it. The message was clear: Give Codie some time. I suppose I knew what I had to do. I just hoped he wouldn't decide to break all ties with me. I didn't want to lose him, but I knew the ball was in his court. I couldn't force him to accept our bond any more than I could force myself to break it.
Codie
Fated mates.
It was ludicrous to think such a thing could exist, but according to Pythor, it did, and he was mine.
"God, Hella, this is such a mess."
He'd said it could be a platonic thing, but every time I'd heard the term 'soulmates,' it'd been referring to a romantic pair.
It wasn't like I'd never want a romantic connection again. I wasn't aro, or even ace, but I didn't know how long it would take me to get there.
I wasn't afraid of being in a relationship with someone, not exactly. What had happened to me... it'd had nothing to do with love or relationships.
My fear lay in the fact that I struggled to trust anyone, and how could I ever love someone if I couldn't trust them? Then there was the fact that if we were in a relationship, my partner would want sex, and I didn't know if I'd be able to give that to him. Just the thought of someone touching me like that made me nauseous.
What did it mean if Pythor was my perfect match? He'd told me he wouldn't be romantically interested in me unless I was into him, but beyond that? Was Pythor not interested in sex at all?
God, my head was a fucking mess.
Getting to my feet, I made my way to the kitchen, Hella at my heels.
While it was time for dinner, I wasn't hungry, so I just poured some food into Hella's bowl—wait, if she was a demonhound, and demons were dead, did that mean she was too? Did she need to eat? Did Pythor?—and then went to my studio, pushing back the million questions and worries and the darkness swirling in my head.
I eyed the commission I'd been working on, but it was toohappyfor my current mood. Instead, I was drawn to the painting I'd been avoiding.
My eyes roamed over the red-and-black canvas, the memories from that night trying to fill my mind the longer I stared at it.
I eyed the red streak at the bottom, and it reminded me of the streaks of blood I left behind as I dragged myself toward the road, bleeding and so fucking close to death.
The black streaks were like shadows from which those men watched me,hiseyes the brightest of them all, blue and so fucking cold it sent a shiver through me even now.
Grabbing my brush and palette, I started painting over it, using the same colors and some brown to turn this painting that scared me so damned much into something else, something better.
I worked until my wrist ached, until my fingers felt numb and clumsy around the brush. Sweat covered the back of my neck and my scalp, my eyes burning from how long I'd spent staring at the canvas.
When I came back to myself, all those little pains and more filled me all at once, and I felt tired. I felt like I'd fall asleep right then and there, and I carefully placed my brush and palette onto their stool, then gazed at the painting.
The colors were still the same red and black, but there was no speck of blue now. Instead, there was brown, warm, soft and kind. The eye wasn't watching me with lust and anger and that terrifying coldness anymore. Instead, it shone with warmth and comfort as it watched over me, the red and black streaks reminding me of big, leathery wings that circled the crumpled black form streaked in red, protecting the bleeding, broken thing from everything that might cause it harm.
As I stared at the painting, my eyes watered, and my throat felt like there was a boulder stuck in it. I tried swallowing hard,but it refused to leave as my vision grew blurry, and I fell to my knees right there in front of my easel.
Hella raced into the room as the first sob escaped my lips, and I grabbed onto her, burying my face in her soft, warm fur as I cried.
My chest ached as memories old and new swirled around in my mind, as old dreams and new hopes crashed into each other, as I tried to just catch my fucking breath and not get overwhelmed by it all.
I wished Pythor was here to wrap his big, warm wings around me, to cocoon me in them and protect me from the world.
I didn't care what the fated mates thing meant to him. I didn't care if it would be romantic or platonic for us. I didn't care about anything except the fact that I needed Pythor. I needed him, and he wasn't here because I'd stupidly sent him away.
"H-hella," I choked out, clearing my throat as I pulled back, wincing as I tried to rub away the wetness from her fur. "Can you get Pythor?"
She peered at me for a moment, and before I could get up to open the door for her, she... disappeared.
I stared at the spot she'd been, too shocked to do much but stare as more tears trailed down my cheeks.
I wasn't sure if I'd sat there for five seconds or five hours, but then Pythor was there, kneeling before me, and I threw myself at him clinging to him as my whole body shook and more tears spilled out, coating his neck.
"I want it," I murmured desperately against his skin, clinging to him as he held me close, his warm palm rubbing up and down my back. "I want to be your mate. I don't care about any of it. Just—don't leave."
"Shhh, I'm not going anywhere," Pythor murmured, and a moment later, I felt those warm, wonderful wings wrap around me, until all I could feel was him. Pythor was all around me, and I'd never felt safer.
