Afterglow (Monsters of Moonvale #2)

Chapter 12

12

I wake up the next evening, determined to figure out how to get past my infatuation with Grace. I installed a dating app last night, thinking maybe what I needed was to find someone else. My last girlfriend and I broke up almost a year ago. Maybe that’s why I’m stuck on Grace—I’m not giving myself opportunities to find anyone more suitable.

Though, when I check the Bewitch’d app, a quick scan tells me none of the messages I’ve received pique my interest. I don’t enjoy wasting my time or anyone else’s, so I don’t bother responding.

There may not be any decent messages on the app, but there’s a text from Grace. Of course there is.

I ignore it as I shower, dress, and eat, but the whole time I’m thinking about what her message might say. We’re supposed to meet up tonight. I’m not sure if Grace texting me to say she needs to cancel or texting to confirm we’re still on would be better.

When my brain spirals far enough to start worrying that maybe she texted because she needs help, I pick up my phone.

Grace: You still good for tonight? I’m in pain, but I’d love to see you. As long as you don’t mind me talking to you while lying on the couch with a heat pad.

Grace: Ugh, that’s not a very exciting way to spend your night, I know. I’d totally understand if you’d rather spend your night off not hanging out with my decrepit ass.

My chest tightens. I hate that she’s in pain. She said it’s gotten worse lately, but how long has she been hiding how she feels? Mona never mentioned Grace not feeling well when she didn’t show up to things. She said she was flaking.

The idea that Grace believes it’s better for people to think she’s unreliable than to know she has a chronic condition unsettles me. It’s far too relatable. I’d rather people think I’m a cold, distant bitch than know that I’m a monster that could easily rip their throats out.

How far does Grace’s mask go? Is she hiding as much as I am?

Blair: I’ll be there.

I grimace at my reply. It sounds too cold.

Blair: Is there anything I can bring to help you?

Grace: Aww, you’re sweet, but no. I just gotta ride it out.

Blair: Okay. See you later.

I still have an hour to kill before I head over to Grace’s place. I could fill the time with texting clients, or I could take a moment for myself. All I do is work and worry lately.

In theory, having down time is good. But none of my hobbies appeal to me right now. I don’t want to read, because my mind wanders too much to focus on the story. When I started having enough money to spend however I wanted, I got into online shopping, but at this point I’ve bought enough clothes and gear that shopping feels wasteful. I could work on a costume if I had any burlesque gigs coming up, but I don’t because I replaced those with much better paying sessions with clients.

Even my collection of half-finished DIY projects scattered around my house hold no appeal. When I bought the place, I made it my mission to turn it into the gothic home of my dreams. It’s come along slowly, and what I’ve done looks great, but with how little time I spend at home, it’s dawned on me how pointless the effort is.

The primary bedroom on the second floor is gorgeous, but I have to sleep in the basement. The vanity I’ve been refurbishing for the guest room won’t ever be used because I don’t have guests. I’ve been putting together my perfect little dream house, only for it to sit empty and ignored.

I’m aware that this is a self-imposed problem. I could let people visit. I’ve had girlfriends here in the past. Mona unsubtly asks all the time when I’m going to have her over. I can’t explain why I’ve been isolating myself more lately, other than an instinct that it’s becoming too dangerous. For myself or for them, I’m not sure.

Feeling restless but unable to pick something to do, I go out and check the back garden to see how the roses are fairing. On nights when my emotions are difficult to manage, being outside surrounded by their beauty and scent helps calm me .

The evening sky glows pink and red, matching the delicate blooms. Basking in the sunset’s afterglow is a chance for me to experience the sky not shrouded in darkness, and I can pretend that I’m able to get a taste of some of the sun’s light.

It looks like Nic’s been by recently. Last time I came out here, there’d been a storm and some of the climbing roses had been knocked off their trellis, but everything is pristine now.

Ridiculous bear. I smile despite myself. It’s hard not to like Nic. Despite all my skepticism, he’s proven himself to be a truly decent, kind man. I haven’t even had a session with him this week, but he still came by and fixed up the garden for me.

I should text him to let him know I appreciate it, but what comes out is more of a chastisement.

Mistress Bella: You didn’t need to do that.

Nic: Do what, Mistress?

Mistress Bella: You came over and fixed the garden. I didn’t ask you to do that.

Nic: Oh, that! It wasn’t a problem at all. I was in the neighborhood and figured it might need a little TLC after the storm.

I’m not sure if he had an ulterior motive in helping, but the cynical part of me wants to assume that he only helped because he wanted something from me. He’s my client. Of course that’s what he wants.

At least I’m able to charge people for the privilege of my attention. If he wants me to praise him, he’ll have to wait until our next session.

Mistress Bella: Okay. Thank you .

There. If he wants something, he’ll need to be direct. I’m not offering it to him.

Nic: Anytime! I know it’s harder for you to see what you’re doing at night to fix things up, so I picked up some lights that are used for night gardening in case you’d rather not have me messing around in your backyard during the day. Just let me know if you’d like me to install them and I can pop over.

Mistress Bella: What do you want?

I delete that message before hitting send, and try to not be so hostile. I don’t want to lose him as a client for being a total asshole for no reason. Even if this is setting off major alarm bells.

Mistress Bella: I didn’t ask for that.

Nic: I know you didn’t.

Nic: I didn’t do it because you’re my Mistress. I just wanted to help. You know how it is with shifters. Once our beast decides someone is part of our pack, we can’t help but lend a hand from time to time.

His bear thinks I’m part of his pack? God, I knew I shouldn’t have let him come do sessions in my home. I knew it was too informal and now…

Now what? Would it really be so bad to accept Nic’s help?

For a second, I wonder if maybe it’d be okay to take his offer of support at face value. Blur the lines of our working relationship and accept that I’m someone he cares for outside of that. Accept that I’m oddly fond of him too and appreciate the help.

Maybe I could even attend one of his monster support group meetings. I haven’t been able to rid myself of this infatuation with Grace, and maybe another monster could enlighten me why.

As quickly as the thoughts come, I dismiss them. I can’t do that. It’s unprofessional. He’s a paying submissive, not a friend.

Mistress Bella: That’s not necessary. If you want to do something for me, book a session.

He takes a minute to reply, and every second that passes, I hate myself a little more for shutting him down. I almost apologize and tell him I’d appreciate the help. Tell him that I’m so tired of doing everything on my own and it would be a relief to have someone to depend on.

I don’t.

Nic: Yes, Mistress.

With that boundary slammed back in place, I head back inside. Now I just need to find a way to shore up my barriers with Grace and everything will go back to normal.