Page 20 of Guarded By the Vodnik

Licking my lips and feeling ridiculously naughty, like I was trespassing and about to get caught, I gently eased the cabinet open and looked at the titles on the DVD cases inside. My eyes grew wider and wider the more I took in, a stupid laugh building in my throat. Some of the titles were extremely ridiculous to the point of being comical.

Alice in Shehru Wonderland: A Taboo Story. Two Girls, One Golem. Backdoor Bloodsuckers. Riding the Werewolf MILF. Double-Stuffed: Spider Shibari Dungeon. Underwater Adventures with Tight Vodnik Sweethearts.

I grabbed the last one to take a look at the cover. It depicted a muscular, grinning human guy with two vodnik women who looked at him adoringly, their tentacles wrapped around his legs almost up to the ridiculously tiny thong he wore to cover his bulging junk.

“So that’s how you follow suggestions?”

I shrieked and dropped the movie case. It opened, showing the disc inside. It was printed with a graphic of green tentacles not unlike Vodyan’s.

Oh God.

I looked up, cringing with embarrassment. It was the worst possible disc I could have dropped, and now, Vodyan’s eyes were glued to it, one of his tentacles tapping rhythmically against the doorway while his fists clenched.

“To be fair, it was just a suggestion,” I said, swallowing down my shame. “There’s nothing dangerous about this. At least, I hope not. I promise, I’m not the type to run into danger. I’m a coward at heart. I’ve never even killed anyone, not to mention cut off their tail.”

And why did I say that?

The explanation was simple. I babbled to break through the palpable tension that suddenly sprung in the room, thickening the air between us. Vodyan’s eyes shot to me and immediately away as his jaw worked. I wondered what his expression meant. Was it contempt?

For fuck’s sake. It’s just porn.

But then why was I so embarrassed and hot around the ears? Why did the air feel so charged?

With a low huff, Vodyan pushed away from the doorway. “If you end up watching it, keep the volume down, please.”

“What?” My mouth fell open with indignation. “I won’t watch porn when you’re around! And I definitely don’t have an interspecies fetish!”

He gave me a piercing look and finally nodded, disappearing back in the kitchen. I picked up the DVD and put it back in the cabinet, muttering obscenities under my breath. I was weirdly riled up and annoyed, not least because of the chopped nature of our conversations.

I sensed he was extremely closed off, and it irritated me more than it should.

With a sigh, I moved over to the non-porn movie selection and picked out one of the few romantic comedies I found. Most titles were action or thriller movies, so definitely not what I needed to soothe my still jittery nerves.

My skills were dusty, but I finally figured out how to play the movie and settled down with my peanut butter crackers. I’d already devoured a full can of peaches in the kitchen by the sink, and this was a follow-up snack.

“Wanna watch it with me?” I asked Vodyan when he emerged from the kitchen, carrying a stack of cans and a few other items in his arms.

He glanced at the screen and shook his head, disappearing in his room.

And that was that. After that day, it was like he wasn’t even there, and I hated it.

I almost didn’t see him at all during the five following days. I spent most of my time in the living room, and Vodyan came out only twice in that time, both times completely ignoring my presence apart from nodding curtly to acknowledge my enthusiastic greetings.

I didn’t know whether he avoided me because I grated on his nerves or if he just needed some time alone. Very optimistically, I decided it was probably the latter and vowed to myself not to bother him, even though I was stir-crazy by the third day.

Being all alone had never served me well.

I tried to keep my days full with books, movies, and yoga workout videos, and even did a few cooking experiments in the kitchen, trying to come up with fun desserts from canned food and crackers, and yet I grew more and more lonely as time passed.

In a fit of desperation on the fourth day, I tried journaling, but it had never worked for me. It felt like sending my words into the void. I desperately needed to know someone was on the other side to hear when I talked, otherwise, it felt meaningless.

But I had no means of communication with the outside world, and my only company was my withdrawn, reticent bodyguard, who might as well not have been there at all.

He probably thrived all by his lonesome, while I slowly gave in to madness.

I was a social creature by nature, and the lack of company made me irritated and anxious. I processed my shit by talking about it, and with the lack of that outlet, I spiraled. I thought more and more about Matthias Carver and worried about my parents and sister, who were also under protection but not as extreme as mine.

Most of all, I mourned my old life.

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