Page 60 of Lost Girl

Does he not want me to leave?

Does he not want to get on with his life?

I mean, it can’t be convenient to have me around.

You're reading too much into it, Wendy.

Yeah, I probably am. Then again, not sure what else I'm supposed to think after what transpired earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking running from him like that in the first place. I begged him to let me handle the appointment on my own, promised him I’d spill it all once everything was said and done, and then I ran.

Senselessly.

Selfishly.

But he didn’t let me get very far, and I’m glad he didn’t.

Talking it out with him, telling him how I felt was the best thing I ever could have done for myself. At no point did he judge me or make me feel like I was wrong in my own feelings. Like I was wrong for not grieving.

Because I should be, right? Not just the baby, but Peter, too. Wouldn’t most women be?

As I told Tavi, though, that baby might have been an innocent life in all of this, but I don’t want a piece of Peter. Self-seeking or not, it’s the absolute truth. What love I had for him shattered when the truth finally came to light. I didn't have time to process what he did and try to twist it enough to find justification.

No, it became my reality in minutes, in a series of terrifying events, days that felt like months on end.

And what's scariest is—I don't even know the whole tale yet. What everyone’s story is. What he did and how he affected them.

All I know is what his actions did tome.

Peter Pan was a disease, a silent killer infecting anyone he crossed paths with, and when he died, that naive little Wendy died, too.

I’ll admit, as a woman it hurts to know my body couldn’t do it, but the optimistic side of me wants to believe it’s merely the circumstances.

You can try with him.

Him—Tavi.

"Ughhh," I groan, rolling my face into the pillow.

The more time I spend with him, the more these thoughts invade me.

Sex and romance, both things I shouldn't be thinking about, but here we are nonetheless.

I can’t help it.

The way he looks at me has the power to set me on fire. My cheeks heat just thinking about it.

Intense. Fervent. Predatory in all the best ways possible.

Now imagine that gaze magnified in tenfold—that’s what I saw in his brown eyes today, playing out before me in an obscene reel of possible scenarios I’m sure he could fulfill without falter. I’m not stupid, I know what desire in a man’s eyes looks like.

But it’s not just desire, though. There’s something else simmering in that stare.

Tavi looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and I kinda want him to.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, right as two knocks resound at the door.

The sound echoes through my introspection, blinking me back into the confines of Soren's guest bedroom.

“Come in, “ I call softly, rolling back onto my elbows.

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