Page 21 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

In ways that have nothing to do with waking up to feed a newborn every few hours.

“Zahra,” Alexios says as he scoops Ash up and brushes the dirt off him to rewrap him in his blanket. Striding up to me, Alexios offers the wiggly little blessing I never thought I’d have. His stormy eyes meet mine as Ash’s fragile weight returns to my arms. For a single moment, we’re both holding him, then Alexios relinquishes my baby and steps back. “You know, you can give that to me. If you want.”

“That?” I ask, the word empty.

“Your pain. I was made to carry it, if you are willing to let it go.”

It’s a tempting offer. And it sounds oh so familiar, too. But I know better than to trust the fae. “Why do you want it?”

“It’s more palatable than green beans.”

The hint of a smile lifts my lips. “What an interesting thing to say.”

“Green beans are particularly disgusting.” Hesitant, he lifts his hand. Slowly, his fingers uncurl and pin a straying lock of the long dark half of my hair over my ear. “Also…I do not enjoy watching you suffer like this.”

Grasping Ash tight, I move back and turn my face away from Alexios. “I don’t want a soulmate, Xios. I’ve never wanted a partner. I’m not interested in any of the same things you are.”

Curiosity and wonder lilts in his tone. “Really?”

“Really. I’m a star nymph, right? And Pila is a tree nymph, isn’t she? I’m told the dryads don’t have soulmates because theydon’t want those kinds of relationships. We’re from the same faerie family, so I think I’m probably like her. Not interested in romance or anything.”

“An excellent theory, however, star nymphs have mates. Star nymphs crave many strong connections with people. To such an extent they flicker and fade without them. Not all members of a family act identically.” Alexios tilts himself into my line of sight. Smiling, he says, “That said, if you don’t want a romance, we don’t have to have one.” He searches my eyes, and for a handful of spare seconds, I feel…at ease with him. He continues, “Since I’m still growing accustomed to having skin, touch remains difficult and, often, overwhelming. If you were not born with a desire for it, maybe I will never grow into one either. We don’t have to beloversto be in love. Pleasure is so small a part in care.”

My face erupts. “Whoa there, buddy. Watch what you say in front of my baby.”

Mischief ignites in him, crackling. “No, I don’t think I will. While he remains unable to understand us, I have no intention of curbing the expression of my affections.” Alexios’s eyes lower before he straightens. “I attempted to trick you, and failed, and made you angry. The experience is one I did not enjoy; therefore, I’ll be direct now: I desire that you will come to rely on me in unhealthily dependent ways. I shall learn your needs and meet them, all while invading your waking thoughts. Once I am irrevocably your favorite, I shall be blissfully contented.”

I do not miss a beat. “Ash is my favorite. I’d be a terrible mother if I valued you more than him, and being a terrible mother would break my heart.”

Alexios’s entire worldview collapses. His face falls. His attention drops.

In the exact moment I am watching an exemplary number of distressed thoughts stampede behind his eyes, I make a dreadfulrealization.

Having permission to bully this guy…could absolutely be fun.

Chapter 6

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Breakdowns and indirect kisses, I guess.

While I’m both sleep-deprived and busy fighting every maternal instinct in me that screams I shouldnotlisten to Alexios and let my baby eat his crib dirt…I can almost believe the yamachichi is harmless.

Almost.

Dragging a gloved fingertip across the basic dark furniture I have decorating one of my guest rooms, Alexios peruses the living quarters I’m offering him as though he gets a choice in the matter.

My room is next door.

If we’re both going to be taking care of Ash throughout the night—especially when I head back to work and need to be half-lucid—the proximity is important.

Until the pros outweigh the cons, though, this whole situation is just going to give me anxiety.

Manly men, outside of fiction, never cease to make me feel…some kind of way.

I should clarify.

Thesome kind of wayisn’t a cute, vague suggestion that I get butterflies in my stomach or am at risk of contractingfeelings.

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