Текст книги "Berries and Greed"

Автор книги: Lily Mayne

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Greid

Still cocooned in my big bath towel from where I’d collapsed face-first on the bed after my shower, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.

This was so fucking weird.

There was a human in my house right now. A tiny human with curly red hair and green eyes and a husky laugh that made my insides go all fucking stupid.

Had she really liked my house? Did she like her room? She kept saying she did, but did she really? Or was she up there right now trying to escape through her bedroom window?

I dragged the towel over my face and groaned into it. I’d been so awkward and lame. She was probably staring into the middle distance with a horrified look on her face, thinking, That guy? I have to hang out with that guy?

Beryl was nothing like me, and she was nothing like Agma—the only other adult I had experience living with for an extended period. Agma had been all cool and aloof confidence that bordered on distant, but initially it had made me pant after her like a dog. She’d been bossy, which I hadn’t minded, but then she’d quickly realised that I would do literally whatever she wanted.

Which had made the relationship very one-sided. When I’d asked for things, she’d flat-out refused, because she said those things weren’t normal. Ultimately, she’d liked some aspects of my submissive nature, but she’d wanted me to fight her for dominance. She’d craved the conflict, the constant push-pull of power—like most demiurgus, I supposed—and I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.

Even though I was still a little wounded from the harsh words she’d said before her departure and bitter about the shit she’d told her friends after we split up, I didn’t wish we were still together. I didn’t pine for her. I religiously avoided conflict, so I hadn’t ever brought up how terribly things were going between us even though I hadn’t been happy. I hadn’t really been getting anything out of the relationship.

Agma wasn’t an overly affectionate person, whereas I’d wanted to wrap myself around her and cuddle up on the sofa in the evenings. She’d been sociable and outgoing and always wanting to go for dinner or drinks or to see friends, whereas I liked staying at home. She chastised me for what she called my “terrible diet”, even though I always dutifully ate the salads she made for dinner. But then she’d get annoyed when she found me hunched over the fridge later that night stuffing leftover pizza into my mouth. It wasn’t my fault salad didn’t fill me up.

And that wasn’t even touching on our wildly different preferences in bed.

But I’d put up with it, partly because she’d made me feel like a bit of a freak for what I wanted, and I’d worried that if we split up and I met someone else, I’d be too scared to ever voice my desires, or I’d hear all the same things again if I actually did.

Agma wasn’t a bad person, we just weren’t right for each other. We hadn’t understood each other. We’d clashed, but not in the ways she wanted. She’d wanted me to push back when she got bossy, trying to goad me into heated confrontations that would turn into wild and rough sex where we were both fighting for the upper hand. Which—no. No, thank you.

Beryl seemed kinda bossy too, but… not in the same way as Agma. Not at all. Humiliatingly, I’d already given her plenty of opportunities to take advantage of my submissive nature, and she hadn’t been swayed by any of them.

She was bossy, yeah, but she’d only told me to tie up my shoelaces so I didn’t hurt myself, and refused to back down when I tried to give her jewellery worth thousands of dollars for free.

God, I was such a loser.

My head popped out of my towel cocoon when I heard her coming down the stairs, stomach jolting with nerves. Oh god, what if she knocked on my door? My eyes darted frantically over my bed, in case I’d missed any of the sex toys that had still been carelessly left out in the open while she was in my freaking house. I’d woken up hideously late in a puddle of my own drool, splayed naked on my belly after a shameful night of draining myself dry, and when I’d seen the time I’d jumped up and shoved on the first clothes I could find without cleaning any of it up.

Thank fuck I’d remembered before showing her my room on the house tour earlier. I couldn’t bear to imagine the humiliation of thrusting open my bedroom door for her to see the collection strewn over my bed. Yeah, so, you’ve known me about a day, but here are some of the things I like to shove up my ass. I cringed, almost tripping as I scrambled off the bed, still clutching the giant towel around me like a hooded cloak.

I couldn’t just leave her out there alone. It wasn’t fair. She was probably feeling a little uncomfortable being in someone else’s house. And she might be hungry. I glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was technically still too early for dinner, but I could eat at any time. I’d see if she wanted anything.

Usually in the evenings I just wore my big blanket onesie with nothing underneath, but nope. No fucking way. I also usually stayed in my true form when I was home, but I didn’t want to startle Beryl by suddenly appearing a foot taller with a beastly face, a long tail and big, clawed demiurgus feet. I spent a lot less time than some other demiurgus in my humanoid skin, but I knew it was like breaking in a new pair of boots. The more you wore it, the more comfortable it got. So I didn’t mind.

Sighing miserably at the thought of spending the evening in proper clothes—and underwear—I got dressed in some jeans and a much nicer sweater than the one I’d had on earlier. As I pulled on some thick socks, I gazed longingly at my fluffy bootie slippers. I’d wait a little longer before showing Beryl all the embarrassing parts of myself. The parts Agma had huffed and rolled her eyes over and judged me for.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I combed my wet hair. Did Beryl think demiurgus were ugly? She’d spent so long around people who fawned over my kind and acted like we were god’s gift that maybe she’d gone the other way in defiance. Maybe her time with the cult had completely soured her on demiurgus as a whole. She didn’t seem that way, but that didn’t mean she liked the way I—we, I meant we—looked.

I didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all.

Scowling at my reflection when the spikes around my hairline twitched, I turned from the mirror and stared anxiously at the door. What was she doing out there? I couldn’t hear the TV or any sounds from the kitchen.

Fuck, had she left?

Panic streaked through me, making me jerk toward the door. At the last second, I veered back around the bed to grab my smoking tin. One way or another, I was going to need it.

I held my breath as I inched open the door. The house was completely silent. A sharp pain went through my chest at the thought of Beryl sneaking out in secret. Maybe she hated the house. Maybe she thought I was a total weirdo.

A faint rustling from the living room doorway opposite made me freeze, my pulse leaping. When I heard it again, I took a fortifying breath and shuffled out of my room, closing the door behind me. Then, trying to walk normally, I stepped across the hall and into the living room.

Beryl looked up from the couch, a fat book open on her lap. She gave me a big smile that made me sigh in relief.

“Hey. I found this down the side of the couch.” She lifted the book to show me the cover. It was a hardboiled detective novel that I hadn’t read in years. “I started reading it just to pass the time, but I’m already addicted.”

The tips of my ears fluttered wildly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long—”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s been nice sitting here without people constantly coming and going. We had one big communal living room at the compound, so it was always busy.”

I took a step back. “Oh. Uh, I didn’t mean to… I can go—”

She huffed and set the book down on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean I don’t want you in here. It’s your house.” Patting the seat beside her, she said, “Come and sit.”

With a gulp, I slowly walked over, but stopped on the way to pick up the box of matches and light all the candles. Humans had weak eyesight, right? It was already getting dim in here, and she’d been sitting there reading in the dark while I had a minor existential crisis in my room.

“I’ll just go and get some lamps—”

“It’s fine, Greid. Just sit down.” She looked around as I lit the final few candles. “I like it. It makes the room even cosier.”

I mumbled in response, keeping my head bent as I closed the little latch on the front of the stained-glass lantern by the couch. After setting down the matches, I awkwardly sat and wiped my clammy palms over my jeans.

Would this human skin stop sweating so fucking much if I spent more time in it?

After a moment of silence, I fumbled with my phone in my pocket. “Why don’t we order some food?”

Food was good. Food was an icebreaker, right? And it meant fewer awkward silences, because we’d be too busy eating to feel the need to talk.

“Sure, sounds good.” She shifted a little to face me better. “Burgers, right? I really want burgers.”

“I could always eat a burger.” As I unlocked my phone and swiped over to the food delivery app, I could see Beryl staring from the corner of my eye.

“Your phone is so cool.” She nodded at it, and I eyed its black outer case, more organically shaped than the straight lines of human-made phones. “And it’s massive.”

I waggled my fingers over the screen. “Long fingers.”

“Right, of course.”

Suddenly remembering my earlier offer, I quickly said, “I can go and get my old one for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I need one of those things before I can use it anyway, right? The thing that goes in it?”

My mouth twitched. “A SIM card, yeah.”

I was reminded of how little of the world Beryl had experienced. It helped put me at ease as the driving urge to give her things rose to the surface. The chance to discover new things. Everything she’d missed out on.

Holding out the phone, I asked, “Do you want to look through the restaurants? There are a few burger places that deliver to here. You can pick which one you like the look of.”

Her green eyes, which looked darker in the candlelight, flared with excitement. “Yeah, okay.”

Our fingers brushed as she took the phone, and I quickly raised a hand to my ear on the pretence of scratching it so she hopefully wouldn’t see its embarrassing twitch. Beryl was too busy staring down at the phone screen anyway, her freckled cheeks illuminated by the glow.

I tried not to stare.

“Holy crap, all these places deliver to here?” She hesitated, then used her finger to scroll down. “There’s so many different kinds of food.”

I shifted, tugging at the uncomfortably stiff fabric of my jeans. “What did you eat at the compound?”

She made a face, eyes still glued to the screen. “It wasn’t bad, it was just… really boring. The same stuff every week. Super healthy stuff, like lentils and tofu and steamed vegetables. Lean proteins. Low-sugar fruit for dessert. Only water or skimmed milk to drink.”

Tofu? Fruit for dessert? I felt a little faint. “Why don’t we order dessert as well?”

My stupid stomach clenched with some equally stupid emotion when she lifted her head to beam at me. “Can we?”

I smiled. “Of course.” Nodding at the phone, I said, “If you swipe along the top, you’ll see a tab for dessert places.”

She peered down at the screen with a frown, then shifted closer to me. “Show me.”

Throat bobbing with a nervous swallow, I leaned as close as I dared and swiped back up to the top of the app to do it for her. When the list of dessert places appeared, she bent her head closer to look before I could move back. The scent of her hair hit me in a wave. It wasn’t soft and flowery like a lot of the shampoos humans used, but… kind of warm and spicy. Like hot cinnamon.

I jerked back and cleared my throat, swiping my palms down my jeans again. I could not start associating words like ‘hot’ and ‘spicy’ with Beryl. It was just wrong. She may not have seemed vulnerable, but she kind of was. She’d been sheltered for almost her entire life, not really experiencing anything. She’d put a huge amount of trust in me by agreeing to come and live here, and I’d sooner chop off my own dick than betray that trust, even in my thoughts.

But as she shifted closer to me to point out a place that specialised in giant waffles with a million different toppings, her arm brushed against mine, making my pulse go crazy again. And I realised that keeping my thoughts about Beryl completely innocent was going to be really, really difficult.

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Chapter Thirteen

Greid

After the food was ordered—with Beryl seeming amazed by how I only had to look at my screen for it to recognise my face and process the payment—I set down my phone and pulled my smoking tin out of my pocket.

“So, um, I don’t know if you still want to try shade…” Shit, was I being a terrible influence, offering her drugs within hours of her arrival? Granted, shade was completely harmless except for how much food it made you want to consume, but still. “You don’t have to, obviously,” I added quickly.

“Oh.” Beryl glanced at the tin, then gave me a wry smile. “I don’t think I will tonight, but soon. Don’t want to experience everything at once, right?”

I nodded, moving to put the tin back in my pocket. “Sure. I won’t—”

“No.” She grabbed my arm to stop me, making my breath catch. “You can still smoke. It doesn’t bother me.”

I swallowed and mumbled, “’Kay,” still frozen in place as I fought the urge to lean into her. God, why was I such a slut for touch?

Beryl seemed to notice, because she removed her hand and said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve just grabbed you like that. It won’t offend me at all if you don’t want me to touch you in any way. You know, like nudging you or grabbing your arm or…”

No! No, do all of that! Grab me all you want!

“I don’t mind,” I croaked. “I’m not touch-averse. It’s—I actually… I don’t mind,” I repeated.

“Okay.” Beryl nodded, leaning her shoulder against the back of the couch and tucking her legs tighter under her. “Me neither. So casual touching is okay.”

“Yes,” I said quickly, fumbling to open my tin and pull out a joint I’d rolled the day before. “Are you sure you don’t mind me smoking? It’s just, it makes me enjoy my food more.”

She let out that husky laugh, and my gut clenched. “I don’t mind at all. It’s your house, Greid.”

“I know, but you live here too now. I mean, assuming you want to stay.” I stuck the joint between my lips to shut myself up.

Beryl grinned, watching as I lit a match and held it to the end of the joint. “I like it here so far.”

“Good,” I said, my voice tight as I held in the first blessed lungful. After exhaling a stream of white smoke, I added, “Tell me if the smoke starts to bother you.”

“I will.” She watched as I took another drag and relaxed back into the couch. “It smells good. Kinda sweet. I’ve smelled weed before in the city, and it doesn’t smell anything like that.”

I nodded. “Smells like toasted marshmallows.”

“Does it? I’ve never had them.”

The shade was quick-working, and it was already taking effect, loosening all my tense muscles and allowing me to roll my head along the back of the couch to smile at her. “We’ll get some and toast them over a candle in here one night.”

“That sounds fun.” She briefly touched my arm with her small, dainty fingers. “Hey, can we watch TV while we wait for the food?”

“Oh, sure.” I leaned forward to grab the remote, picking up the ashtray at the same time to put it in easy reach on the armrest. “Anything you want to watch in particular?”

“Anything but the arts channels,” Beryl said with a grimace. “It was all we got at the compound. Those super-long demiurgus operas.”

“Ew. I hate classical music.” I fired up DemiTV, the streaming service that had mostly demiurgus-made productions. Beryl stared avidly as the logo appeared—a yellow demiurgus eye that blinked once before turning onto its side and morphing into a D, while the yellow bled out to form TV in wobbly letters.

I selected the single profile when it appeared. I’d deleted Agma’s profile months ago—she’d always complained about the “mindless drivel” I watched messing up her algorithm, so we’d had separate ones.

“Wow,” Beryl breathed when rows and rows of movies and series filled the screen. “There’s so much.”

“Yeah. Even more on the human streaming service. Which we can get.”

“Do we need to?” she asked doubtfully. “Surely it’ll take us years to watch all of this.”

I huffed a laugh, sucking on the joint between my lips. This was what I did basically every single night—I spent about half my life watching TV—but it felt strangely exciting to do it with another person. A person who seemed as enthusiastic as I was about just vegging out, staring at a screen and eating too much food.

I couldn’t wait to see Beryl’s face when she watched her first action film or cheesy sitcom or period drama. I could already tell she’d be interested in all of it and eager to soak up everything she could.

“What’re you in the mood for?” I asked, although I doubted she’d know.

I started scrolling down through the various genre lists, but then Beryl reached over and grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Wait, that row says, ‘Continue watching’. Is that the stuff you watch? Let’s put on one of those.”

Oh god. I exclusively watched a mix of corny and trashy shit, and Agma had always found it so embarrassing on the rare occasions we did go out with friends and I couldn’t contribute at all to their conversations about the latest climate change documentary or some new indie film about a young demiurgus leaving the fast-paced corporate world behind to find his calling in yak farming.

“Um, okay.” I hurriedly sucked down another lungful of sweet smoke to try and relax as I selected one of my favourite corny sitcoms. “Uh, we’ll start it again from the beginning so you can follow.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.” I’d actually already watched the whole thing at least ten times, but I could easily watch it again. “There’s actually a new season coming out soon, so we’ll be caught up and can watch that together. If you like it, I mean.”

“I’ll like anything that isn’t demiurgus opera.”

I snuffled a laugh, scrolling up through the episodes to the very first one. Beryl shifted to face the TV fully, rearranging the blanket over herself so her bare feet were tucked under it. My fingers itched with the urge to pile several blankets on top of myself as well, but I refrained.

The opening credits started on the screen, cheerful music playing over a birds-eye shot of a typical suburb before the camera zoomed in on two specific houses side by side—one a tall white-washed house with pale green trim and a perfectly manicured front yard, the other a wide, squat building made of black stone, with a wildly overgrown garden filled with Deep Earth plants.

The words Our Neighbours the Humans floated onto the screen in curly letters, before it cut to a reel of shots from the show as the cast was introduced. An all-American family, Mr and Mrs Smith and their two young kids, Angelica and Sam, followed by their demiurgus neighbours, the Aktonars. Lifemates Gimi and Tomar, and their five kids, Biki, Lota, Pakna, Grin and Reesh.

When the credits ended with a full-screen shot of a smiling older demiurgus female with long white-streaked black hair and the words, “And Parin var Gelligar as Jurik Aktonar”, Beryl asked, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, a super-famous demiurgus actor from a few decades ago. She used to be a total babe.” Okay, the shade was definitely loosening me up. “Well, she still is, but she was in this long-running late-night show about a rogue demiurgus cop who goes undercover while off-duty to bust human crime rings. She was his sexy crime-fighting partner.”

Beryl snorted, shooting me a wry look. “Fan of that show too?”

“Oh yeah, it’s awesome. I had such a crush on her.” I tapped the end of my joint into the ashtray and snuck a glance at her. “We can watch that too if you want. It’s pretty dated now, so not, you know, the best representation of modern society’s views, but it’s still good.”

“Sure, but let’s watch this first.” Beryl nodded at the screen. “Can you explain it to me?”

I quickly rewound to the end of the opening credits again and paused. “So it’s about this demiurgus family who moves in next door to some humans. The Smiths. And it’s basically just”—I shrugged—“them figuring out how to co-exist as neighbours. But like, in a funny way. Well, you might not find it funny. It’s, you know, goofy and a little slapstick.”

Beryl nodded. “Sounds fun. Who does sexy crime-fighting lady play?”

My mouth twitched into a lazy smile. “She plays the mom of Tomar—uh, the female demiurgus adult. She’s like the rich grandma who visits from the city and brings the kids stuff, including the human kids. The Smith parents hate it, because they say it’s all really weird.”

Beryl snorted, sitting back to get comfortable. Her knee brushed against mine through the blanket on her lap, making my thigh muscles jump. But I didn’t move away.

“Sounds good. Okay, I’m ready. Oh, wait.” She shifted, tugging a blanket out from under her. “Do you want a blanket? I think I’m sitting on most of them.”

I stayed perfectly still as she tossed one over my legs, but after a second, I stubbed out the remnants of my joint and tucked my legs under to get comfortable. Then, thinking fuck it, I grabbed another two blankets and piled them over me as well.

Beryl grinned at me. “You look comfy now. Okay, let’s watch.”

I grinned back, silently wishing I was wearing my big onesie and not these stupid jeans, but I was pretty comfortable. And relaxed, now that the shade had loosened me up. And shit, I was hungry. When was the food gonna get here?

Leaning forward to grab another joint and the matches, I lit it and pressed play. The opening music faded, and the inside of the Smiths’ house appeared. Mr Smith was peering out of the living room window with an overexaggerated frown, and canned laughter played even though he was doing literally nothing funny. I still snorted, shade smoke curling from my nostrils.

Beryl glanced at me with a perplexed smile. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, it’s just—It’s not, I guess, but he’s watching the Aktonars move in next door.” I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.

Beryl chuckled, bumping her shoulder with mine. Shit, had I moved closer to her subconsciously? I was pretty big, so I took up a lot of the couch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a buzzkill. I’m sure I’ll get it after a few minutes.”

“No, I know. It’s probably a little weird when you’ve never watched anything like this.”

“It looks fun, though. I’m excited.” She grinned at me, then paused. “I’m excited for the food to get here too.”

“Shit, me too,” I groaned, rubbing my belly. “I’m so fuckin’ hungry.”

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