Amy wasn't sure what, exactly, to do with the new information she'd been given. She wasn't quite human but not quite demon and there was nothing she could do to change it. Slappy had changed her DNA to save her life, and it was permanent.
Wally disappeared and so did Ray with Amanda in tow, the dark-haired girl shooting her a frazzled look. And then it was her and Slappy and she knew they needed to keep moving.
They took a bus to a nearby hotel—no way she was returning home so soon—and she paid in cash, producing her license when asked by the receptionist to prove that yes, she was eighteen. The elevator ride was quiet, save for the blood rushing in her ears, and Slappy seemed unusually subdued, no snarky comments, just gazing quietly at the blur of his reflection in the metal paneling.
It would hit her, eventually, that there would be no one else for her except him.
And it did, half an hour later, while she sat on the bed with dripping-wet hair, fresh out of the shower. She gasped and huddled tighter, hugging her knees, trying to breathe past the sudden onslaught of shuddering sobs that wracked her.
What would happen to her? Would she turn into some hybrid? Would she have to go running?
Cold shock set into her muscles, made her fingertips tingle, as she sat there, digging her nails into the skin of her knees. Ran her thumb across the raised scar across the cap of her left knee from slicing it open on a fence post as a kid.
"Are you okay?" Slappy's normally rough voice was soft, concerned, and she blinked hard against the film of tears obscuring her vision.
She opened her mouth to reply, shut it with a snap when she realized she didn't want to lie and say she was fine, and shook her head, ignoring how it sent a spray of chilly water from the ends of her bangs into her eyes.
He paused, hovering, before he sat beside her, so close she could smell that ozone scent of his, and it seemed to calm her inexplicably. After a minute, he raised a hand towards her ankle, wrapping his slightly cold fingers around her leg.
Against all rhyme and reason, the single touch had her humming in satisfaction, a little instinct urging her to relax, relax for him, because he was touching her, touching her because she was scared and he wanted to please her, wanted to calm her. She closed her eyes and focused on the slow glide of his calloused palm against her skin.
A low rumble escaped him, vibrated in his chest as he watched her when she opened her eyes and peeked nervously at him. The sound enticed her into reclining before she could think about it, the sound soft and familiar even though she'd never heard it before, a balm to her frayed nerves. His hand swept in gentle circles along her leg, from knee to ankle and back again, never pausing or speeding up his pace, just slow, methodical continuous passes.
It felt like a lifetime before she felt like herself, her skin no longer trying crawl off her bones, and that instinct in the back of her head crooned when Slappy looked at her, that she'd pleased him, that he was happy with her, that she was a good, good mate, and she clenched her jaw against the overwhelming urge to press her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
He pulled his hand away, leaving her skin stinging with the sudden absence. "Are you, uh, okay? Did that help?" The concern, the softness, the unexpected empathy in his gaze had her swallowing hard, unable to respond for a minute or two while her brain screamed at her that he took his hand off her so she must've been bad, that he didn't want to touch her because she was a freak of nature.
When she found her voice, it was deeper than she wanted it to be, slow and unsure. "I'm okay. Yeah." She paused, conflicted over telling him about that screaming instinct that was suddenly so loud it almost drowned out the sound of her own voice. "And, uh, it's…there's this weird—"
"Voice or instinct in the back of your head, telling you weird stuff like how you should touch me and that you're a good girl?"
Her cheeks burned at the words good girl because that made her stomach flip over as he shifted, angling his body away from her, and that voice screamed at her that she was a bad mate, that she'd displeased him, that he didn't want her anymore, even though she tried to her damnedest to block it out.
"That would be your new mate side. Since I transferred some of my blood and magic into you, you kind of have to deal with it. Even I have it, though I've blocked it out for the better half of my life," he explained calmly without looking at her, instead staring down at his feet. If she looked closely, she could see his cheeks were red, and realized with an abrupt clarity, that he was embarrassed.
The idea of a big, bad demon like him being mortified made her smile, not because him being embarrassed was humorous to her but because it reminded her that, underneath all his bravado, he was just as new to this as her.
"I guess I just gotta get used to it," she said finally when she couldn't stand the silence that fell between them. "Are you hungry? We can find a Burger King or something." She offered because it was the polite thing to do, even though all she wanted to do was curl up under the covers, maybe keep his hand on her leg, and pass out for the next two days.
"I'm alright. If you'd like something, we can order room service," he said. She shook her head, reclining until her head touched the pillow, and reached for him, hesitating slightly because she wasn't sure if he'd want to her touch, but he relaxed when she laid her hand over his and squeezed briefly.
"I…I'm sorry. For all of this. For dragging you into my demon mess." He sounded so raw, his voice cracking on the words, that it surprised her and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"You saved me, Slappy. And yeah, half the time I wanna throw you off a bridge but you really aren't that bad," she said, teasing slightly as she sat up.
He shook his head. "I ruined your life. You won't be normal."
She snorted, edging herself closer until she was curled around his side, her face pressed against his shoulder, and realized with a sizzling sensation, how right it felt to be wrapped around him like this. "I've never been normal, Slappy. But how are we gonna break the news to my family? They hate you…" Her voice grew softer as he turned to her, his eyes searching hers.
"I can't take back everything I did six years ago but I can try now," he whispered, voice low and cautious. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He sounded bitter now, and she was struck by how much she really didn't know—his body wasn't his actual body, he had a brother that he obviously didn't get along with, and there were other monsters like him.
Still she couldn't regret him, couldn't bring herself to wish she'd never stopped those boys from turning him into a little fire in the woods.
"You should get some sleep." His tone brooked no room for argument but she wouldn't have argued to begin with; her body ached and her sore muscles screamed for relief when she slowly laid back down, sinking into the cool sheets.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed into the mattress, listening to the sound of Slappy's even breathing, the sound of cars outside, her own heartbeat, and tried to match his steady breathing to relax further.
As she drifted off, she felt the bed shift and dip in the sudden subtraction of his weight, but he kept his hand in hers, threading their fingers together, comforting and grounding.