Page 22 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Men confident in their masculinity make me feel unsafe.

Confident men, period, make me feel unsafe.

Because, too often,confident menbecome angry in ways that result in pain followed by a justification of both the anger and the pain.

Despite Alexios’s raw elegance and the foot-long braid trailing down his back, he’s absolutely male. Absolutely, one hundred percent, entirely, dating-sim-beautifulmale. The broadshoulders paired with his height could make even someone with my ample figure feel small and feminine.

My nose scrunches.

Ew.

Alexios sits on the queen-size bed dead across from the doorway I’m leaning against and smooths his gloved hands against the black comforter on either side of his thighs. “This room is a gothic nightmare,” he says.

“Is it now?” I mumble.

“It reminds me of home.”

I tilt my head against the doorjamb and cross my arms beneath this morning’s pajama top, a graphic tee of a turtle making pancakes. “You don’t say.”

Alexios falls back, arms spread, and stares at the ceiling. “I am becoming overwhelmed with the reality of this situation.”

It’s the honesty for me, not gonna lie.

Tilting his face toward me, he smiles—angelic. “Might I trouble you for some privacy? I intend to partake in a breakdown momentarily.”

Blinking, I clear my throat and step outside the room. “No problem, bud. Should I, uh, close the door for you?”

“I would appreciate it.” His smile becomes fluorescent. “You’re so sweet, snowflake.”

Eyes fixed on him, I reach for the knob and back away. “All righty… I’ll be in the kitchen, making breakfast. Come on down whenever you’re ready.”

Chipper, he says, “’Kay,” and I close the door.

Unable to stop myself, I check on my little Ash to make sure he’s still sleeping comfortably with his dirt-stained mouth, then I head downstairs to locate some calories. Heaven knows I needsomethingthat produces energy to get me through the rest of today.

I still have messages to respond to after canceling yesterday’sstream.

Gracious.

Dani’s probably worried sick.

And no doubt I have an email from Wade, confirming this Friday’s LARP sesh.

Not only that. Rogue’s been connecting with me about asking Ollie, one of Kassandra’s new faerie friends whose music channel has blown up over the past year or so, about composing the soundtrack for a game he’s developing.

Speaking of Kassandra, who doesn’t really message, recently she convinced Pollux that Andromeda needed a phone, so I have been inundated with gifs from the little dream eater. I probably need to catch up on those, too.

Upon retrieving my communication device, I discover a solid eighty-seven notifications. Some are comments on videos, emails from my editor, friend requests. There are a couple missed spam calls, proving that I really am just like other girls—despite my follower count.

It’s nice to feel normal when I have a soul-sucking faerie creature upstairs in the middle of a breakdown. Right next to a baby who not only sleeps in a dirt pile, but also is encouraged to eat it.

Good, nutritious, organic dirt from Faerie.

Yum.

I hope I’ll understand how to relate to my son as he grows up. Hopefully, once things are sorted with Castor and Ash is no longer classified information, Pila and I can talk about parenting. Assuming Ash won’t become dangerous, he and Pila’s little girl, Terra, will grow up together. I really hope no one treats him like an outcast just because he’ll grow into the ability to produce deadly toxins.

I mean, seriously, I could also kill someone without too much physical effort.

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