Page 162 of With Wing And Claw

All of it made sense, all of it was entirely unsurprising, and yet Thysandra had not the faintest idea of where this line of reasoning was leading.

‘Yes,’ she said again.

Either it was what she’d been supposed to say, or Naxi had stopped caring about the precise course of the conversation. ‘Demons are solitary creatures, of course,’ she continued, expression not brightening. ‘Nymphs are very much not, though. It was easy to forget that when I lived in the Underground and had friends around me every day. Here … I realised.’

Thysandra’s heart went cold. ‘Are you saying you want to go back to the Underground?’

‘What?’ Naxi jerked her head around so violently that pink curls flew in all directions. ‘No, of course that’s not what I’m saying, for hell’s sake! Don’t be dense, Sashka!’

‘But … but you said—’

Naxi threw up her arms, whirling to a standstill on the path. ‘I’m saying I want you, you idiot!’

That was not what she’d been saying.

Thysandra was really quite sure that wasnotwhat she’d been saying at all.

‘But …’ Gods have mercy, why was shestillarguing? ‘But I …’

‘But you’re stubborn and unreasonably distrustful and terrible at conversations?’ Naxi finished, glaring at her. ‘Yes, I know. So?’

‘You don’t love me,’ Thysandra said faintly.

The forest was silent for a moment.

Green, gold-flecked silence, framing that pale little demon face as it softened into an expression Thysandra hadn’t seen before – not the piercing knowingness of those all-seeing blue eyes, but rather pensive, self-observant, as if for the very first time, Naxi’s demon senses were turning inward and reading the beats of her own twisted heart.

‘No,’ she admitted, tasting the word. ‘No, I assume I don’t.’

It didn’t matter, and yet it did. Didn’t matter, because Thysandra’s heart had made its own senseless choices, and no lack of love could change a damn thing about that. Did matter, though,becauseshe was already in far, far too deep. Because she didn’t know if want could be enough. Because for once, justoncein her life, she didn’t want to be the one sacrificing, surrendering, giving more than she could ever hope to receive.

‘No,’ she repeated, and it felt like a lock clicking shut.

‘Or at least …’ Naxi cocked her head, curls tumbling over her shoulders. ‘I don’t get those warm, fuzzy feelings in my stomach whenever I think of you. I don’t feel your pain and joy like it’s my own. I think those are the things you people with empathy tend to call love, aren’t they?’

Did they have to spell it out like that?

It almost felt like mockery, coming from the person who knew perfectly well what warm, fuzzy feelings Thysandra still couldn’t manage to suppress.

‘I don’t think there’s any need to talk about this further,’ she choked out. Not the script. Too hell with the script. Disappointment hit harder after hope; at once, she wanted nothing more than to get out of here, lock herself back in her rooms, and empty a bottle of wine on her own. ‘Might be best if you—’

‘It hurts not to have you,’ Naxi said.

It didn’t sound like a confession.

It simply sounded like a truth.

‘It’s hurt every single day since we first met.’ A small, rueful smile that, despite everything, made Thysandra’s heart twinge. ‘And I told myself it was because of what you could do forme, whatIgot out of it … but then you were in danger, and it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. I just didn’t want you to be dead.’

Nymph blood after all … but hell, did it really change anything?

‘You already said you wanted me.’ Disillusion made her voice tremble. ‘That doesn’t—’

‘It’s notthat,’ Naxi cut in, voice urgent, agitated, her hands fluttering the half-made point aside. ‘Fine, I want you! But I also … I want you to be well more than I want myself to be well, do you understand? I want to feed you tea and pastries after every stressful day. I want to hold you in the bath for hours and kiss you until you feel safe again. I want to bite the face off everyone who ever calls you—’

Was it a sob that broke from Thysandra’s lips? Was it a laugh? She had no gods-damned clue anymore. ‘You’ve made your point, I think.’

‘No, but you don’t get the point, Sashka!’ There was a rawness about Naxi’s voice. Something that wasn’t soft or sweet at all. ‘Thisismy sort of love. Who the hell cares what I’m feeling or not feeling? It’s not as if you can read my emotions. And I don’t think it fucking matters howyouwould classify what’s in my heart, because … because …’

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