‘I guess I’m sorry for freaking out at you.’
Her message came so quickly, it made me think she’d already been typing it out by the time I sent mine.
‘I’m sorry for making you feel like shit, baby boy. And I’m sorry for breaking your trust. I understand if you can never forgive me, but I promise you that I will never do such a thing again. For what it’s worth.’
I didn’t respond this time, uncertain of what to say.
Because ‘trust’ was in fact my biggest issue. It was why I didn’t really have any friends, because I could remember the hateful bullying from middle school after my parents passed away. And I usually didn’t forgive people after giving them a single chance. I didn’t normally give second chances. Especially when breaking my trust was intentional.
That would be like someone slamming my hand in a door, on purpose, and then expecting me to put it back and ‘trust them’ that they wouldn’t do it a second time. Certainly, I could forgive them without a problem, and in fact I usually didn’t hold grudges, but that didn’t mean I was going to put my hand back in the door.
Because trust and forgiveness were two entirely separate things.
And forgiving someone absolutely did not mean you had to trust them ever again, or even speak to them again.
I might not hold a grudge against a man who punched me in the face, but no way in hell was I going to invite him over for dinner or otherwise include him in my life. And even if I was dealing with family, if they did something bad enough, I’d have no problem kicking them out of my life forever, family or not, even though I might not hold a grudge long-term.
Kicking someone out of your life didn’t mean you were lacking in forgiveness, and there were some situations where such an action was just consequential to the situation. Like, if a friend of the family, or even a family member, had ever sexually assaulted Serenity, there was no doubt that our parents wouldn’t have blinked an eye at excommunicating them from our lives, as a natural consequence and necessity, to keep her safe, even if our mom was otherwise quite religious.
Granted, despite my reluctance to trust a second time, I also found it difficult to imagine that I would never be willing to trust Mrs. Rebecca again, but at the same time I couldn’t just automatically forget how I felt right now and say ‘no big deal.’ She was going to have to earn back my trust, which was already something I rarely offered.
But…I knew I would offer it…because I was addicted.
In theory, I could let her go, but knowing that what she did was for both her and her daughter’s sake — to ensure I wasn’t dangerous to them — made what she did feel less bad. More understandable. And ultimately gave me less reservations that might otherwise cause me to stay away.
Still…
‘Don’t do that again.’
It was a warning. Not of something bad to come, but of me shutting my heart off forever. I supposed I might elaborate when I next spoke to her in person, so she’d understand how significant this issue truly was to me, but for now that was all I would say.
‘I won’t. I promise.’
Taking a deep breath, I stuck my phone back in my pocket.
“So,” my sister began hesitantly. “Let me get this straight. She touched you and then asked you to leave?”
I sighed heavily, wrapping my arms more snuggly around her in my embrace, which prompted my sister to bury her face against my chest more, her head underneath my chin. “Well, she first asked me to give you up for her,” I admitted.
“What?!” Serenity said in alarm, pulling away to look up at me.
“I said no,” I quickly replied. “But she then basically said that she was through with me, and told me to leave.” I took a deep breath. “She waited until I had my hand on the doorknob before touching me, and it just made everything worse.”
“So basically,” Gabriella chimed in. “She rejected you when you wouldn’t give your sister up, but then she made it confusing.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Sounds even dumber when I say it out loud, but that’s basically what happened. And then she tried to get me to compel her into making her be with me, since she wouldn’t do it willingly.” I sighed. “I guess she was seeing if I’d really do it when I was upset, but I can’t imagine why she’d take that risk.”
“Unless she had a way to prevent it from happening,” Serenity suggested.
I froze solid, wondering if that was the case. “I don’t know what it would have been though,” I replied. “Unless she put in special contacts or something? But I know she didn’t,” I quickly added, shaking my head at the idea.
All she did was put her hair up and the idea of a magical hair-tie just sounded ridiculous. Maybe she grabbed something and put it in her pocket? Or was she able to do actual magic, which would be invisible to the naked eye?
But without saying anything? No incantation or anything?
I had zero idea.
I didn’t even know what was real and what was myth. And I certainly had no idea how magic worked.
Certainly, I’d read about stuff before, but most of it was pure fantasy. Just random stuff people made up, like sparkling vampires or magic that didn’t require a sacrifice or even an energy source to work. Even the supposedly more ‘real stuff’ seemed fake, often focusing on spiritual healing nonsense.
Or at least, I personally felt like it was nonsense.
Nothing about magic to prevent compulsion though.
But Mrs. Rebecca’s reckless actions did make a little more sense if she had something up her sleeve to prevent me from compelling her. Not that I would have ever done it in the first place, since I strongly doubted I could avoid karma biting me in the ass, never mind the fact that she might one day resent me for it somehow.
However, I supposed that was the scariest part of the power incubi held. Such creatures could actually make a woman want them, rather than just controlling their actions. Or at least, it appeared I might be capable of that, actually affecting the heart, instead of just the mind.
At the very least, when I practiced on my sister, she found herself wanting to please me, even though we’d discussed her refusing what I asked beforehand. And the result was the same with the nurse in the hospital.
From Mrs. Rebecca’s perspective, she didn’t really know me, and I was just a boy to her who had the capacity to make any woman do what I wanted. If anything, she probably realized for the first time why her mother had warned her repeatedly about incubi, assuming her mom had never actually explained what the specific danger was for some reason.
Because incubi sincerely could be dangerous.
With just a look, they could enslave any female they wanted.
Sighing, I decided I should apologize for being so dramatic about the whole thing, feeling dumb for almost crying for real.
“Sorry for being a wimp,” I whispered.
“You’re not a wimp,” Gabriella nearly snapped, sounding angry that I would even suggest it. “Not at all. You’ve literally killed people for me and protected me. Rejection is hard on anyone, and while I don’t agree with what my mom did, I am not surprised by how you reacted to it.”
“Besides,” Serenity added, snuggling against my chest again, her head underneath my chin. “As much as I hate how she made you feel, I also feel needed right now. And that’s the very thing that has kept me going after mom and dad died. When it happened, the fact that you needed me, more than ever, gave me the motivation to push forward. It gave me strength, when otherwise I would have had none.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Women want to feel needed,” Gabriella quickly agreed, kissing me tenderly on the back of the neck. “Remember? We sort of already had this conversation a couple days ago. About how I was glad I was older than you and more mature. That I already had a job and my own place. Because I felt like I’d never measure up to you otherwise. I’d never be your equal.”
“Well, you’re definitely both my equal now,” I finally replied. “Only thing you both are lacking is wings. And maybe just stronger senses.”
Serenity made an amused noise, while Gabriella was silent for a few seconds.
“You know…” my fiancé began hesitantly. “My back has been feeling a little itchy since I woke up this morning.”
Serenity abruptly untucked her head from my chin and looked up at me, only for us both to glance at her, me twisting slightly to look at her in the corner of my eye.
“What?” she said seriously. “Why are you both looking at me like I said something weird?”
I took a deep breath. “I guess I just wasn’t sure how much like me everyone was really going to become. But I suppose this is expected.”
“Well yeah,” Gabriella agreed. “I pretty much assumed it would probably happen eventually.”
“I didn’t,” my sister replied sincerely. “But then again, the idea of wings probably seems so bizarre because I already feel like it’s beyond strange that I can look so different. And dang, my eyes are super creepy. I saw them in the mirror this morning after I showered.”
“I think they’re beautiful,” I replied warmly.
She focused up at me in surprise. “Really?” she said hopefully.
“Really,” I reaffirmed, only to recall something I’d thought about earlier, regarding my sister almost transforming in embarrassment back at Mrs. Rebecca’s house. Sighing, I decided to carefully sit up, prompting them both to give me confused looks in the dark as they did the same. I continued before they could ask what was wrong. “Gabriella,” I began. “Just wondering, but did you tell your mom that I changed you?”
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