Decision made, I smiled at Ramer and gave him Fred’s lead and then raced upstairs to get my coat. I could be platonic friends with Locke. I needed friends more than I needed potential love interests.
Decision made, I hurried back downstairs to meet my new platonic friend.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs and he smiled at me like I was the most exciting person he’d ever met, I told myself to breathe and chanted, platonic, platonic, platonic in my head over and over.
Maybe it would stick.
8
He unfolded from where he was sitting on the stairs, and rose to his full height. I don’t know what they fed them at Eden, but they were all huge. Maybe there was some truth to Ramer’s theory. He held the door open for me, and I stepped out into the cutting winter chill. It blew my skirt up full Marilyn Munroe style, and I squealed. Yep, skirt probably wasn’t a good option.
Locke laughed and pulled me a little closer. “I’ll act as a windbreak. There are some benefits to being this big.”
The people walking down the street in the opposite direction naturally moved out of the way of Locke’s towering bulk, and he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Ever been to Boston before?” I shook my head. I didn’t want to tell him I hadn’t even been out of Minnesota before. I went to college in Minneapolis and that was about the furthest I’d been from home.
Locke led me around something gross on the sidewalk. “I thought I might take you to Franklin Park today. They have a zoo and a nature park there, with a truly amazing pop-up butterfly exhibit at the moment. No one likes to go with me, the shapeshifters don’t like to see anything caged, which I totally get.” He turned me down a side street. “I just like being among the normals for a bit. Such short lives but they find so much joy.”
I knew Micah was old, but the way Locke spoke hinted that he was even older. I couldn’t put my finger on why, it was like he had an odd lilt or something.
It definitely would be impolite to ask.
“Just how old are you?” Dammit. I was too damn curious to hold my tongue. My mother had always told me it was rude to ask a person their age, but this time I had to make an exception to mama’s rule.
“Hmm, about five hundred?” My feet stilled, but he pulled me along easily.
Five hundred. He was five hundred years old. Holy shit. When we approached the station, he led us up to the ticket counter. He pulled out a fifty, slid it beneath the plastic safety screen, indicating that the station attendant should keep the change. The man looked totally jaded, shrugging as he slid the two tickets back under the screen.
The platform was crowded, and I pushed down my anxiety. Luckily, here in Boston, no one gave me or my outfit a second glance. Still, I stood a little closer to Locke and he seemed to encompass me without even touching me.
I had to raise my voice a little to be heard. “So, what are you exactly? A vampire? I know you’re not a werewolf, because you don’t have the yellow eyes.” He laughed at the suggestion, shaking his head.
“I’m neither, thank fuck. No offence to them, but having to turn hairy once a month, or chase my food and drink its blood, sounds miserable to me. As far as I know, I am one of a kind. In some senses, I am truly immortal, more so than either Lycan or vampire; there are methods to killing them both if you know how.” His face turned grim, his shining blue eyes losing their mischievousness. “Nothing I’ve found has killed me yet, and trust me, I tried. Bullets to the brain, stakes to the heart, poison, trains, severing my own head in 1781. That last one was painful, never going to try that one again. With the help of an old lover, I tried severing parts of my body and burning them, but as long as there was one tiny specimen of my DNA, I grew back. It took decades but I grew back. The journals Marianne kept are quite fascinating, if you’d like to read them.”
I just stared at him. This big, larger than life, smiling man was suicidal? The thought made my heart constrict. I couldn’t imagine living so long, being so done with life that he would torture himself in such brutal ways just to end it all.
For the first time since I met Micah, I appreciated my mortality. It would be awful watching the people you loved die time and again. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until Locke answered.
“It’s soul destroying.” The train arrived, cutting off the conversation, and I wasn’t disappointed. His smiling face masked such a terrible sadness and it made my heart ache.
As the doors slid open, I was honestly surprised that Locke fit through. He had to stoop low just to avoid bumping his head. We sat down on ratty brown seats, next to windows covered in scratched graffiti.
“Did I upset Ramer earlier? Doesn’t he like dogs? If I’d known I wouldn’t have asked, I promise.” That was so like me, to make people uncomfortable by just existing.
Locke grinned, reaching up to pet my head like an errant puppy with his giant mitts. “You really are special, Layla. Micah couldn’t have been more right.” He shook his head, but the way he looked at me made my chest flutter. “It was nothing you did that made Ramer sad. Unfortunately, Ramer’s ability can sometimes be more of an affliction than blessing. He’s exiled himself from the normal world and doesn’t leave the house if he can help it.”
I was still confused. “Is it because he’s so hairy? Because I know this hair removal cream that will burn those suckers right off for at least a day or two.” Locke let out a belly laugh and several people turned around to stare. I should clarify, several men turned around. The women were already staring and I didn’t blame them one bit.
“No, it isn’t because he is hairy. Ramer doesn’t like to touch people, and walking through the streets of the city is almost painful for him, in an emotional way, I mean. Really, I shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s his story and I’ve already gotten in trouble once today for blabbing secrets.”
I could respect that, despite how much my curiosity burned. We finished the trip in a comfortable silence, each deep in our own thoughts.
Coming to Eden had been… not what I was expecting. Not because of all the preternaturals, as Alistair had called them. I was surprisingly fine with the idea that there were people out there who weren’t like me.
No, my real problem was sitting right next to me. Up until a month ago, I’d had zero attraction to men. If someone had asked me to put myself in a box, I would have said I was asexual.
Boy, was I wrong. Maybe.
I looked around the train car, and spotted a good looking guy in a business suit. He was fit, definitely worked out, had dark eyes fringed with thick lashes and just the right amount of stubble. He was GQ handsome.
And he did absolutely nothing for me. He could be standing in front of me naked, doing his best impression of a Chippendale, and I wouldn’t want to go to bed with him.
But the man next to me?
When he shifted and his thigh brushed mine, I was acutely aware of it. I wanted to squeeze his thigh muscle like a stress ball.
Where did that leave me and Micah? I had feelings for him, feelings that were quickly spiralling away from lust and toward something scarier. I showed all the signs; the fullness in my chest that felt like an ever-inflating balloon when I saw him and the hollowness in its place when he was gone. Then there was the overwhelming happiness when I woke in the mornings and realized he wasn’t a dream. The contentment I felt when I fell asleep at night curled in his arms.