Page 34 of A Love of Wrath and Rapture

My mind runs back and forth, competing against all of my thoughts before they even take hold.

But that doesn’t justify it. It doesn’t justify cold-blooded murder.

The gore still remains fresh in my mind, and it causes me to shiver.

I could still escape now, in spite of my assurances to the contrary. I could forget how the passion and lust grabbed hold of me in the midst of my vulnerability. Maybe I could forget about all the deep kisses we’ve shared during our short time together, where he’s made me feel as if I’m the only person who matters.

I could chalk this all up to a moment of weakness and let myself return to some sense of normalcy, away from this monster. If I run far enough, maybe he won’t be able to find me.

Perhaps I could find somewhere in this vast wilderness to call my own, if another settlement won’t simply take me in.

Anything has got to be safer than this—trusting a monster to keep me safe.

He’s more human than many of the people back in the village.

I shake my head at the thought.

No. This is insanity.

I know that beneath the fur blanket and unobscured by shadows, his arms are jagged bird-like claws, his eyes inhumanly blue. In spite of the cosmetic similarities, I have to realize how different we are.

I can still see him through the eyes of the villagers. No wonder they punished me so fiercely for summoning such a creature.

I remember him rending Kraven with his unrelenting claws, and I picture that he’s driving his claws into the torsos of the council, sending the people back home into a screaming frenzy.

Why does the thought give me a trickle of satisfaction?

What’s wrong with me that it even excites me—gives me catharsis—to think of the people who cast me out lying bleeding on the stone streets back home?

I have to get myself together. If I stay here, I’m in danger.

Even if I could run away, how would I survive out there? Where would I go?

And it pains me to admit it, but as I sit up, ready to leave and stake my very life on a fraction of a chance of my own survival, I’m not done here. I can’t run from this cavern and forget this beast knowing what I know—feeling what I feel for him.

I’ve never felt this way towards anyone before.

There are still so many more questions that fill my mind, teasing me by the minute.

Perhaps this creature is unconventional, but he still offers me more safety than my own home could provide. He’s also betrayed me fewer times than they have, though I suppose there’s still plenty of time for that.

And there’s a deep part of me that enjoys his touch. It surprises me every time that feeling floats to the surface. It makes me feel wicked and unnatural.

Were they right to exile me?

Am I some kind of freak after all?

I bring myself to my feet, careful not to wake Xeros. The floor of this cavern is brutally cold, and as soon as I stand up, leaving the comforts of the fur blanket, I immediately regret it.

As I walk forward, feeling the blistering cold outside the entrance growing closer by the minute, I look uneasily back at the sleeping beast, who only hours ago, was inside of me, penetrating me with his organ.

Why did it feel so good?

I still remember his unearthly moans, and how it felt when he swelled up inside my core. Something about it was so deeply comforting, even if it was strange and unfamiliar.

I’m both pulled toward him and toward the vast wilderness. Every minute, I want to run in both directions at the same time.

I hear a grunt from behind me, and it surprises me how much more at ease I feel, recognizing Xeros’s monstrous voice.

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