Page 4 of Wrath

Most of us had to share a room, except for me. Originally, I’d shared a room with Bash, but when my tail accidentally bitch-slapped him across the face during a particularly vivid nightmare, Phineas led me to a room at the lowest level of the ship.

As far away from the others as physically possible.

There was nothing here but a twin-sized bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe devoid of any clothing.

“You didn’t come up for breakfast,” Z said quietly, folding her arms around herself.

I immediately twisted away from her, shame burning white-hot and blistering inside of me. I hated that she had to see me like this—like a monster. A beast.

A demon.

“Wasn’t hungry,” I lied, even as my stomach gave a contradictory grumble.

It took mammoth self-control not to glare at and verbally reprimand it.

Bad, tummy! Bad!

Both of Z’s eyebrows lifted. “You missed dinner yesterday as well.”

“Wasn’t hungry then either.” My tail thumped against the ground, almost as if the bastard was calling me out on my lie.

Logically, I knew I had control of the tail the same way I had control of my other limbs, but I swore it sometimes acted sentient, belying my true feelings. When I was angry or upset, the tail would twitch from side to side. When I was excited, it wagged like a damn puppy’s tail. Just then, it careened off theground like a gavel and crashed back down, the noise almost deafening in the quiet room.

“You can’t keep hiding away in here.” Z ventured a tentative step closer but stopped at whatever expression she saw on my face.

“Who said I’m hiding?” I laughed awkwardly and attempted to fork my fingers through my disheveled red hair.

Of course, I forgot about my horns and ended up smashing my thumb against the left one. Ow.

“Have you stepped out of your room once in the last few days?” Z asked.

“Um…” I looked away from her and pretended to be fixated by the blankets on my bed. They were still messy from the night before, so I reached forward to straighten them, smoothing out the corners.

“Kill…” Z swallowed audibly, her breath hitching.

The broken sound had me turning back towards her. And…ohmygod. Were those tears? I didn’t know how to deal with tears, least of all hers.

“I am so sorry.” Her voice cracked on that final word, and the last of my defenses scattered away, crumbling until they were nothing but dust.

“P-Please don’t apologize,” I begged, racing towards her but stopping when I stood an inch away.

I wanted to touch her, to caress her cheek or push her hair behind her ear, but I didn’t dare. What woman would want to be touched by a monster like me? Z had just escaped a horde of them, after all. The last thing she needed was to be loved by one.

“Fuck, don’t cry.”

Z blinked rapidly. “I’m not crying.”

Little liar.

“So are those tears just from your allergies?” I asked, my lips twitching.

“Fuck, Killian.” Z’s entire face crumbled. That was the only way I could think to describe it—her upturned lips curled downwards, her eyelids lowered, and her nose scrunched. The sight broke my heart. “This is all my fault?—”

“All your fault?” I stared at her in confusion.

Was it possible that Z was blaming herself? She wasn’t the one who threw me into Lake Meade. She wasn’t the one who poisoned the water. She wasn’t the one who tried to kill me.

She swallowed. “If you hadn’t come with me, you wouldn’t have?—”

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