We Are Monsters 🌕 Book 1 || gxg

Last Days at the Cabin

The world zoomed back into focus, sounds and smells and touch finally registering in her once more. The gentle swirls of Ada's index finger over her hip hadn't faltered. Her interest was on the film. The only person staring was Aidan, and there was a knowing sombreness to his mask. Sam sensed a great deal going on beneath that smooth exterior. She thought she was going to be sick. There was a long, frantic debate between staying where she was and dashing for the toilet.

Sam eventually got a handle on her rampaging thoughts and felt the queasy seas in her stomach settle to a tolerable roil. Without a word she tipped her chin toward the patio, and Aidan was already halfway to his feet before she finished the gesture. She felt eyes on her back as they exited. They settled into camp chairs dragged from the sheltered corner, facing each other directly. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands loosely overlapped, and fine drops from the gentle mist gathered on the thin hair there.

The pages were still clutched in her hand, crinkling beneath her fingertips. She tried to relax her grip, to no avail. She didn't know where to begin, which thread to tug first. All were loaded.

"Do you see why I took them?" Aidan asked flatly.

She nodded. She wasn't happy about it, and it didn't make what he did okay, but she was quietly glad she didn't read them sooner. It would definitely have been too much for her. He was right, but his actions weren't.

"As soon as I saw you, I had a pretty good idea as to why this attack felt, and was different." His dark eyes sparkled with something she couldn't place, something guarded and raw. "Something felt different from the minute I read the article. Noah is efficient. He doesn't fuck around with his prey, he never has. That you survived the initial attack at all had me on alert. Even before I read those,"—he gestured to the papers—"I saw what he saw of you. I hate to admit it, but you scared me a bit, too."

"It's horrifying to know he was watching me through my windows for three months." Sam shivered. "And maybe even after that. I can't help feeling guilty, even though he did all of this to himself."

Aidan's eyes pinched. "He did. It's not your fault."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Practise," he shrugged, but it was forced. "Years of practise."

An insistent woodpecker began its work at the edge of the treeline. She watched its jerky movements for a time, gathering her thoughts. Not looking away from the bird, she asked in a whisper, "He has feelings for me, doesn't he?"

The answer was a long time coming, and she was afraid to look at his face. "I believe so."

A shudder wracked her. Somehow putting words to it made it worse. Shame, embarrassment, fear, disgust, pity all warred for dominance, restoring her urge to vomit. She couldn't reciprocate in the best of circumstances, and somehow had to live with the knowledge that her painful way of life had all been the whim of a man too broken to stop himself doing wrong. A tear spilt over and she swiped it away quickly.

When she could finally look at Aidan without crying, she asked, "If he wakes up, am I still going to be in danger?"

"I won't let him out of my sight."

"That's not what I mean. I need to know what is going to be done about him. I can't just go back to work if there's a chance he's going to slip away again and come after me. These change everything. I need to know."

After a moment, Aidan scrubbed a palm over the stubble darkening his jaw so a soft rasp joined the low din. The action was a filler, something to do as he planned his next words, exposing the fatigue he tried to hide. "I didn't want to face it so soon, but I also thought we had more time before we would catch him. Be honest with me here, don't spare my emotions, okay? I mean it. Do you really think I'm good enough to lead a pack? It can be dangerous, and it's a lot of hand shaking when the time calls for it."