Page 92 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Leave it to me to forget what the topic was. Given the upbeat music playing on loop fromSuper Smash Bros. Brawl, discussingmarriagealso seems unacceptable. “We can’t justget married. We have way too much other nonsense going on to plan a whole wedding in the middle of it.”

“Most fae I know don’t go through the hassle of planning a formal wedding. Our word is binding. I’d say my oaths to you right now and be yours eternally if it might heal something cracking inside you.”

Whatever’s cracked inside me, it makes music when itshivers. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“I’m…barely nice to you. I’m really disagreeable. And selfish. Lord knows I’m too sarcastic for my own good.”

“You’re funny. And smart. And not too proud to apologize.” His gaze skims from my face, down my body, to my legs thrown over him. “Beautiful does not begin to describe how I see you. Furthermore, you’re my soul’s mate. Why wouldn’t I be serious about pledging myself to you at the precise moment you are willing to accept me?”

“You’re young. How can you know I’m the best of anything you might find someday? You’re more new to relationships than I am.”

“Zahra,” he murmurs, reaching for me. Threading his gloved fingers into my hair, he pushes the locks over my ear. “I don’t need to search for answers I already have. You’re my soulmate. I trust whatever powers dictate that fact. There’s no pressure here. The pressure is what we’re trying to remove. If asking you to marry me right now doesn’t provide you with peace, neglect the request until it does. I will certainly ask again, and again, and again. Until you sayyes.”

Breath stilted, I snap, “That’s harassment.”

“Sure is. What have I done to make you think I’m above it?”

“I’m not fully fae. My words aren’t binding. I can’t offer you an oath in return. So wecan’tget married right now even if I wanted to. And Idon’twant to. Obviously.”

“I trust your word, with or without magic, but I am also willing to make you fully fae. If you want to be.” Smiling, he adds a magnanimous, “Obviously.”

My eyes widen. “What? You can do that?”

“If you give me everything, I can.” Mischief twinkles in his eyes. “Having access to all your pieces would allow me to strip the humanity from your cells and devour it.” His tongue flicks tocaress his lips as he cups my chin. “It’s a tantalizing task I am thoroughly looking forward to.”

“I hope my humanity tastes like a mushroom.”

His nose wrinkles. “You are, occasionally, dreadful.” Peace consumes his soft gray eyes as his nose relaxes. “Yet another thing to adore.” His thumb swipes across my lips, freeing chip crumbs in what I’m going to call aseductivemanner. “So. What do you say? Have you changed your mind?”

“About…”

“Marrying me, angel. Or becoming fully fae.”

A fission of heat skates down my spine. Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and move his touch off my face. “What is the extent of what you can take from people? When you say you wanteverythingfrom me, what does that mean?”

“Are you requesting an itemized list?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, he closes his eyes. “Mind, body, soul, and all the entanglements thereof.”

“Which are?”

“Memories, character, emotions, feelings, morals, wishes, dreams, desires…I could go on. Buteverythingreally means…everything. Your will. Your love. You.” He smiles, so beautifully, as his eyes open on me. “I want you. I want to play in the garden of your nerves and caress the sensation of your thoughts. I want to guard you from any pain and devour your years of agony. I want to free you and cage you in my own heart. With irrevocable completeness, I want to make you mine.”

Goodness gracious. “If you meddle with all those aspects of me, I wouldn’t bemeanymore.”

“Are you saying your trauma defines you?”

“I’m saying my history has created who I am today. Good and bad, I ammebecause of it.”

“No…” He touches a fingertip to my chest. “You are wounded because of it. You are guarded because of it. You are afraid and fighting each day to act like yourself because of it. Because of it, you struggle to know whoyourselfreally is. Who you are is something else, something apart from what you have reacted to. Who you are propels which reactions you make. It is not defined by the stimuli outside your control.”

What a pretty concept.

Having it backdropped by theSuper Smash Bros.theme seems a touch illegal, though.

---