Berries and Greed

Greid stayed silent as my mind churned, waiting for me to make my decision. The dark room had felt creepy before, but now it was kind of soothing, like a peaceful void that allowed me to truly think and come to a firm decision.

“Okay,” I croaked, my fingers twitching with an intense rush of nerves. “Let’s… We could try it.”

Greid’s breath caught, his face spikes fluttering, but he tempered his endearing reaction to give me a sly grin. “See if we don’t want to kill each other within a week.”

I laughed, some of the anxious tension melting away. After a hesitation, I held out my hand to shake on it. “Can we get high and watch shitty TV? We only get a few channels here and they all suck, but not in the good way.”

“You just described my typical evening, so yes. We can definitely do that.” Greid’s fingers flexed before he gently grasped my outstretched hand. His engulfed mine entirely, his fingers impossibly long and topped with those little jewel-green claws.

His skin was warm and dry, and felt slightly tougher than mine. I wondered what his other form looked like—his true form. No two demiurgus looked exactly alike, same as humans.

The enormity of what I’d just agreed to hit me in a rush, but instead of feeling terrified, a bolt of excitement fizzed in my gut. I grinned up at Greid, and after a second he grinned back, and we stood there looking at each other like we were partners in crime who’d just concocted our next heist.

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Chapter Seven

Greid

Why did this humanoid skin sweat so fucking much?

I was drenched by the time I left the compound after arranging to come back for Beryl the next day and speaking to the high priest. I could tell Beryl thought I was a shitty liar—she’d told me as much—but I thought I’d done a pretty good job convincing the old man that I was very pleased with my “new mate”.

Not that I wasn’t, but it wasn’t like she was going to be my mate in any shape or form. Still, Beryl was… interesting.

I liked her red hair. And her green eyes.

And the little freckles covering almost every inch of her face, and the way her cheeks went bright pink when she scowled or felt uncomfortable.

And the fact that she’d been the only one there wearing even a splash of colour. I preferred my surroundings to be dark and sombre and soothing, but I liked colour. I liked the coloured gems I used for my jewellery. I liked bright things.

I’d also gotten a very strange tingly feeling when she’d scowled and glared and stood up to me as if I didn’t tower over her and couldn’t slice her open with my claws or tear her fragile human body limb from limb with barely any effort. Not that I wanted to do any of those things, but witnessing this little human square up to me like she was one hundred percent prepared to take me down—and was confident she’d win—had… done things to me.

Which, fucking hell, was not something I needed. This was a purely platonic arrangement that benefited us both. Her presence in my home would hopefully temper some of the pressing, miserable loneliness of my life, and in turn, I’d be giving her a safe way to explore the outside world. To get away from this fucked-up sex cult.

I’d made sure to reassure her several times that this was not a sexual arrangement, because it was true, but also because I didn’t want her to be scared or uncomfortable around me. I wouldn’t ever dream of pushing for something she didn’t want, even if I was maybe… kind of… interested.

You are such a sad little idiot, I thought viciously to myself as I finally reached the bottom of those fucking steps and started stomping toward my car, parked at the side of the huge public park that bisected the hill and the city. Latching onto the first person who… well, did the exact opposite of showing any interest. You’ve got issues, dude.

I cringed as I got into my car and chucked the unopened brown envelope the high priest had given me onto the passenger seat. Then I sat behind the wheel unmoving for long seconds. My gaze cut to the side, up the hill to the big beige building resting on its brow. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. Was I total creep? Had I coerced her into it somehow? Had she been too scared to say no? She hadn’t seemed the slightest bit scared, and I’d meant what I said—I’d bring her back or help her find

somewhere else to live if she hated living with me, whether that was after a day or a year.

My gut clenched as I imagined having Beryl in my home for that long. I wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified. What if I hated it? What if the idea of a roommate, of having someone else rattling around my big empty house, was better left as nothing more than a yearning dream. What if the reality was complete horseshit?