Page 7 of Marrying My Moth Lady

“Yeah, well Ms. Genius, I am legally blind without my specs. My driver’s license says so. Like right now, you look like a giant bat yourself with your wiggly antennae, glowing red face, and fluffy black blobs resembling wings,” I grouse. My guts quiet. Dumbass digestive system loves to embarrass me in social situations except when I wish to torture my tormentor and possible murderer. “How do you like that? Your daily style is as outrageous as superhero cosplay.”

I can’t see the scowl on her face, but the feminine growl tells me I hit my bull’s eye. The black blob of my abductor grows larger as she approaches. By God, she’s wearing wings! Not a feathered cape or dress, but Halloween-store knock-off wings. She’s changed from her black dress to a pink and white striped one, so the wings are an accessory. Her legs and feet are bare, but I don’t let my eyes linger on those before she meets the bed. I smell herbal soap and forest freshness when she leans over me.

Don’t look at her cleavage. Don’t look at her cleavage.

The soft globes of her breasts press against my chest. Her arms cage my body. My heart takes off like a rabbit outrunning a fox with thumps, leaps, and erratic jumps. Animatronicantennae wiggle above her stiffly styled hair. Her face is a tiny heart lost in the puffy cloud of maple brown. Yes, her eyes glow red, but my lust-addled brain focuses on her button nose and juicy lips. Despite being a creature of my nightmares, she’s dolled up her dainty features with makeup to resemble my sweetest wet dream.

“Moth,” she says against my lips. Her breath fans over my chin. I swear every nub of my patchy stubble stands on alert. “I’m the Mothman’s daughter. Not a cosplayer. Not a kidnapper. I’m the true owner of this part of the forest and will haunt you or anyone who trespasses on my land.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” flies out of my smart mouth. Haunt? Who threatens with haunting? Mothman’s daughter, my ass. I’ve seen red contact lenses. It’s not a stretch that reflecting ones are available on the internet, too. Nice try, but she can’t fool me. “This is the land of Winged Wildlife and Abundant Earth, which is currently owned by Eli Carter Jr. If you have a grievance, you can visit their website—”

“You think I didn’t try that first? Do you take me for a moron?” She jumps back as if I’ve burned her when I’m the one missing the heat she created between our bodies. I also miss watching her emotions flit across her face. She denied me the pleasure when she stepped out of my vision’s limits.

“Well, you did assault and kidnap me. Criminals aren’t the brightest,” I retort with an eye roll. “Since we are on speaking terms, can I have my glasses?”

“The lenses cracked, so I don’t think they are functional. They bent all to pieces when you fell—”

“When I collapsed, after your brother’s violent assault on my person,” I interrupt.

“Well, tomato, tomaut-o,” she says, approaching the bedside again. She lifts my frames and balances them on my nose. The backs of her fingers are feather soft as they caress my cheeks.

Feather soft.

Like her wings.

My eyes can’t focus on her any better with the mostly empty frames, but the view through a sliver of cracked lens pulls a scream from my lungs. I curse a blue steak as jumbles of syllables fall from my lips. Her eyes don’t have floating contacts after she blinks. The iris is red! The more I scream, the brighter they glow! My stomach joins in my operatic expression of terror with grumbles and burps.

Her antennae vibrate. They hum a sad song with rhythmic clicking. Does she click from her throat? Oh God, she has a grey hackle under her chin, like a bird…or a moth! My screams increase their pitch to screeching. Feathered hackle and feathered wings! She said we were twenty feet up…does she fly?

“Moth, fucking moth, kidnapped by a fucking moth,” I stutter. The hum of her antennae flows into my mind with the velvety softness of hot cocoa. Her song warms the dark corners of my cold, calculating mind until my screams are silenced. Her warm, empathetic melody holds my misanthropic heart . As sound waves flow down my body, my insides stop their pitching and roiling. The intestinal spasms calm to rhythmic squeezing with decreasing intensity. She extinguishes the constant burn of acid reflux that plagues me twenty-four-seven.

“And a lady, potty mouth,” she whispers with a twist to her lips. I’ve amused her with my screams, thrashing, and fear. It’s as if she anticipated my mental breakdown at the sight of her. She let me have my outburst and then soothedme, insteadof being offended. While she has every right to be pissed at my reaction, she’s patiently humming to calm my nerves. “You say the words I was raised not to say out loud.”

“That implies you think them,” I retort, as if tipsy. I hope she keeps talking, so she can’t hum. Her humming is like a drug. I can’t plot my escape if I’m high as a kite.

“I’m only human.”

“Debatable,” I say with a tug of my wrists. “Any chance you might let me out so we can talk in a less awkward place than your bedroom? I feel like an unwilling participant in a paranormal porno.”

“Oh, it’s not my bedroom—it’s Matthew’s,” she says with a fluff to her hair. Her humming stops at the mention of her brother. He’s not here, or he’d have taken control of my interrogation by now. Moth Lady/Potential Murderer hasn’t asked me a single question.

She bites her lip. I hope that means she’s considering letting me go. I struggle to hold my mouth in check. I piss everyone off eventually. Her good side must take a shine to me if I’m to get out of here alive. The urge to peer over the side of the bed at her tapping toes blazes through me like a fireball. Is she still wearing her heels? Is she barefoot? Are her toes polished, adorable…claws, or covered with thousands of feeler bristles and scaly receptors like a true moth?Gross, better keep my pretty feet fantasies in my brain.

“You don’t have to scrunch your face like a mole emerging from his hole. We will put a new pair of glasses for you in the ransom letter. I promise Matthew didn’t mean to break them,” she says, putting her face a foot from mine. She crinkles her eyes with sincerity, and I find myself believing her.Damn humming.

“Glasses in my ransom letter? If you didn’t mean to knock me out, then why hold me captive? Who do you think you can ransom for me? I’m a nobody,” I plea. My wrists drop to the pillow in frustration. It’s obvious torture isn’t on the agenda when I’m lying comfortably on a stack of pillows.

“What do you know about Carter Coal and Minerals?”

I’m not even bothered when she answers my question with a question. That usually burns my cookies. There’s a local-yocal saying about moth’s attraction to flames, but I’m attracted to the warmth she emits. I want to listen to her talk and feel the sunshine of her gentle soul. I don’t recognize myself—mostly because I hate interacting with people.

How does she spend her days? Not much to do in this hovel. There’s hardly room to turn around with her giant wings, but where else could she go without facing society’s reactions...like my screaming in her face? Shame bubbles the acid in my body.

The humming starts with the first grumble of my belly.

“Thanks,” I say with a long exhale. Thank goodness the only air expelled during this panic attack is through my lips. “Carter C&M is owned by the same man as the Wildlife Foundation that funds my work.”

“Matthew was right! You do bring the bulldozers into the forest,” she says in shock. I squint against the assault from the glowing of her enlarged eyes. They are round stoplights. Shining a light on some conspiracy Matthew convinced her was real.

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