Page 87 of Female Fantasy
I am no demigod.
I am just Merriah.
When I try to catch Ryke’s gaze and silently communicate my panic to him, I find him already staring up at me.
Only he is not trying to look me in the eye.
He is studying my wrist. Seeking out the marks left by his teeth as he sucked the life force from me. As he claimed my energy when we became one.
Fantasizing about my taste.
Suddenly, I feel as if I might be sick. Ryke looks at me with concern, and I know my face must have turned pale. But the truth settles over me like a strong current.
Ryke does not love me as I love him.
He is simply addicted to my power.
And I know then, looking out at the people I am meant to save, those who have pledged their allegiance to me, that I have to run.
Chapter Eighteen
After a long, tearful goodbye with Angel, during which I may or may not commit to reuniting at a ski chalet in Zermatt (I can’t ski) and a Sub-Saharan African safari that would require three new vaccines (I’m afraid of needles), I gather my belongings. As I pack my bag, I notice that Nico left a small notebook under his side of the bed, the very bed we shared just last night.
The ledger. It must have fallen out of his backpack when he left in a hurry.
Without thinking twice, I slip what feels like illegal cargo into my purse and embark on the next phase of my journey.
Armed with my brand-new, friend-provided MetroCard, I descend the subway stairs, doing everything I can to focus on the image of Ryke that I have in my head andnotthe feeling of Nico’s strong arms pushing my body down into the mattress.
Or the look of hurt on his face when he said I was still living in a fantasy.
Or the way something fundamental splintered inside me when he turned his back on me and walked away.
But you know what? Good riddance! Why should I care what a suddenly sweet-tongued Nico is doing? Or, you know, who he’s doing it with? We spent one night together. Our tryst was merely a chapter, a footnote. Every romance protagonist needs a misleading blond-haired love interest before she finds her soul mate. Granted, they’re usually patient and agreeable. Golden retriever boyfriends. Sunshine and roses. Everything Nico is not—and never has been.
But that’s, you know, beside the point.
I just hope it isn’t awkward the next time I see him at Sunday dinner.
I’m still mulling over these details as the train pulls into Grand Central and I scurry off with the rest of the commuters. It’s still early enough that New York is hazy with a soft golden light. People are lugging their sleepy, sluggish bodies to the office in anticipation of their first cups of coffee. I take a moment to appreciate the ceiling of the terminal. Painted in a chipped bright turquoise and adorned with gold embellishments, Grand Central boasts an astrological skyscape featuring several Grecian constellations: Aquarius, Aries, and Cancer, along with Orion, the hunter, and Pegasus, divine stallion of the gods, sired by Poseidon, horse god of the sea. The latter reminds me so much of Ryke and Merriah.
Ryke.
Furnace help me. After years of obsessing and pining over my book boyfriend, I’m about to actually meet the man who inspired the myth. The legend. To shake his hand and feel that strong, calloused grip. To look into the golden orbs of his eyes.
Suddenly, nausea overtakes me. I run to a nearby trash can in case I actually hurl.
What if Ryan Mare doesn’t like what he sees?
Will he think I’m too much? Too loud? Too different?
Pull yourself together, Joon, I hear Nico whisper in my head.
You’re a force.
You are love.
I swallow, rolling my shoulders back and holding my head up high. Imaginary Nico is right. I have to do this, to see this through. If I turn around and give up now, I’ll always wonder:What if?
