Page 48 of Folds
“Auburn, I’m fighting for my life here. We need to stop.”
That certainly does not feel like a possibility. Especially with the desperation that clings to his tone, making my brain stutter. If that wasn’t enough, the rigid outline of his seemingly giant cock against his trousers is.
“I’m assuming you can make it so nobody sees us?”
I can’t not be touching him, and he doesn’t resist when I pull him closer to me by the waistband of his trousers. He lets himself lean forward, his forehead resting against mine.
“I can.” He grits out the words like he’s in pain.
If I can’t shoot my shot now, there is literally no possible right moment.
“Then maybe you should pin me back against the wall and do everything you’re fighting against.”
“I can’t.” My stomach tightens uncomfortably as I brace for rejection.
“Oh-” I let the word trail off.
“I won’t pretend like I can’t stop thinking about how good those pants of yours would look on the ground with me between your thighs, Auburn. Gods, I’ve been thinking of that for the last year.”
My heart lifts, and I allow myself a glimmer of hope.
“You saw me at Hill House,” he says the sentence as though it’s an answer.
“Yes, I did,” I respond cautiously.
“In my true form.” I nod, recalling the vague shape of a humanoid void, like negative space in 3D.
“I wasn’t afraid of you.” I’m surprised at how honest that feels to say. I hadn’t actually thought about it, but fear didn’t cross my mind.
“I know.” He lets out a shaky sigh.
“But you saw me, and you’ve been drawn to Hill House. The same way I’ve been drawn to you.”
I nod.
“If I claim you, you’ll belong to me.” I laugh at the silliness of the sentiment.
“Yes, that’s usually how that works, Rowan.”
He laughs too, but it’s bitter.
“There’s a reason I’ve kept myself at arm’s length, Auburn, and a reason people have tried to keep you away from Hill House.”
“I don’t understand.”
His jaw sets, but his eyes soften as he pulls back to see me properly.
“I can’t maintain this formindefinitely.”
The implication is chilling. I can’t help but search his face for a sign of the being from Hill House, the absence of light. He just looks like Rowan, not a single trace of inhumanity trying to break through.
“Then don’t,” It comes out more forcefully than I mean it to. If I need to put aside a shallow notion of human beauty to get the answer and the boy, I’m happy to do it. I certainly don’t fit the common beauty standard myself.
A quiet, humourless huff of laughter escapes his lips. “That’s not how this works.”
“Then explain it to me,” I press him. “You said you would.”
Rowan’s expression tightens. Then his hand comes up, slower this time, brushing along my cheek before settling at the side of my neck as tentative fingertips ghost over my skin. I feel my cheeks heat before I can calm myself. I wonder if he knows how many times I’ve fantasized about wearing his hand as a necklace. He freezes as he searches my face intently.
