Page 9 of Accidentally Engaged
Patsy would tell me that’s red flag behavior. That sudden feelings like this are just manipulative, or maybe love bombing. I don’t know. But I know what comes next.
Hazards of Being a Banshee:
You know when the s*** is about to hit the fan.
Banshees who are really in tune with their powers, who spend a lot of time alone, or at least in areas where there are more fae than humans, who really love being the harbingers of death and destruction, will totally kill a party. They can see every bad thing that’s about to happen. I don’t mean little things, like stubbing your toe or spilling your wine. I mean like how you can’t take my mother to a party for anyone over seventy, or she’s going to go nuts with impending deaths, falls down the stairs, and cardiac arrests.
When the fae used to isolate themselves from humans, it was horrible. As soon as we’d get near humans—boom. We’d see someone’s death, and then, without any control, our instincts would take over, announcing it with our mystical, keening wails. Humans didn’t want to live near us. (I mean, it’s bad enough when your neighbor tells you spoilers for the reality show you’re both watching. No way do you want them to suddenly be like, “Guess what, Ginny, you’re dying on Tuesday!” With screeching wails, no less.)
But the truth is, the more banshees are around humans, the duller our senses become. The mass of humanity swells around us, and there’s just a nebulous feeling of life and death, impending joy, impending loss. It fades into a cosmic hum, most of the time. I probably shouldn’t generalize. I imagine it’s not that way for all banshees, but it’s that way for me, maybe because I’m part human.
The point of this train of thought?
I can feel impending disaster coming at me like a charging train, and I’m tied to the tracks.
Jared’s going to tell me he got caught up in the whimsy, that this was all just illusion and delusion, and gracefully decline my accidental offer.
And his heart is breaking over it. Years of trapped and buried pain are seeping up, swallowing him. It’s like watching someone trapped at the bottom of a deep, dark well as the ocean starts to flood the land.
What’s worse? I feel the same way. Each little criticism he lobs at himself, each twitch of the gentle smile he’s trying to keep in place, is like a tear in my soul.
Is it because he’s going to break the vows we just made? What’ll that do to my magic? To my powers? To my existence?
And why does he hurt so badly? Most guys don’t believe in true love at first sight. They don’t want to get married.
Your magic is strong, and it’s accurate. You didn’t bet on the wrong horse.
But he looks nothing like the faelord of my fantasies!
And that doesn’t matter at all, because I’m very, very happy with what I’m looking at—or I would be if Jared weren’t still trying to hide his red-rimmed eyes and the way his smile is falling apart.
“Stop!” I gasp, hand out like I can halt the tide of pain.
Miraculously, I do. The soul-crushing feeling ebbs, retreating enough that I can still feel it pulsing at the edges of my mind, but not tearing through it.
“You don’t have to humor me. I was stupid to think that a gorgeous woman like you—”
“I’m green,” I remind him softly, just in case he forgot.
“The prettiest shade of green I’ve ever seen—like where cream and green meet, there’s a whole new color—that’s you.”
I try not to fall on the ground again, but the fact that he described my skin like I think of it? Shivers are racing up my spine.
Keep calm.
“You were saying?”
“I was stupid to think a beauty like you would want to instantly get hitched with someone like me.” He laughs sadly and waves a hand over his teddy bear build.
His giant, tall, broad, barrel-chested-but-soft-looking, teddy bear, bearded build.
Sweet mother of humidity, is it just me, or are things unusually hot and wet in here right now?
“You wouldn’t want to spend your life married to someone like me, so I—”
“Wait!” I shout again, this time actually doubling over from the amplified pain that careens off of him in waves, combining with my own. “Please stop. Wh-why do you think I wouldn’t like the way you look?”
“Uhhh... I’m kind of a bigger guy? Husky? No, fat is the word for it. It’s the word my ex-wife used.”
