Mated To An Enemy

“Do you think I'm a monster?” Myka asked in a whisper. “For feeling relief at seeing the corpses of my parents?”

Peter swallowed; he didn't know how to respond. He wanted to support Myka and comfort him. But how could he?

“Not exactly,” he finally said after taking a minute to process his thoughts.

Peter licked his lips and swallowed before he continued.

“I can't personally understand how you felt or what you went through,” he said. “Seeing my dead parents has been a nightmare I have struggled with for seven years.”

Myka swallowed and tried to pull away from Peter, feeling the shame of his admission. But Peter didn't let him go.

“But I can… rationally… understand how you could feel the way you do,” Peter continued, hugging Myka closer. “Those people, they weren't your parents. They were exactly what you said, shells. Your parents? They were the people by the lake. The ones that smiled, that taught you to skip rocks. The ones that made you feel safe in the world, not fear it.”

Myka squeezed his eyes tight as the emotions welled up in him.

Peter held him close and rubbed his back as he felt Myka's heart rate increase. He was understandably upset. Placing a soft kiss on Myka's hair, Peter did his best to distract Myka.

“So, did Alice also give you the tattoo?” he asked.

Myka took a deep breath and pulled away from Peter gently.

“No,” he said with a soft shake of his head. “Alice could only get me out of the lab with a small bag of supplies. I didn't see her again for another four years.”

“What?” Peter asked with surprise. “She just left you on your own. When you were nine?”

Myka nodded with a sniffle. He was calming down, pulling himself away from the memory of his horrifying experience of family life.

“She couldn't leave,” he said. “At the time, I didn't understand exactly why, but I had seen how she was treated and how they used her. So if she said she had to go back, I knew there was a reason.”

“Still… you were a child…”

“So was she,” Myka replied. “The difference was that while I was being set free, her bindings only got tighter.”

“Oh,” was all that Peter could reply.

Alice had not been too keen to share the details of her time as a doll. But from his exam of her body, her old injuries, the brain damage, and everything he knew about her experience, he knew enough to understand that saving Myka from his parents had to have cost her a lot.

‘I have known Myka for a very long time. He is family to me.'

Alice's words suddenly spoke loudly in Peter's memory. He knew already that she cared about Myka, but now he understood better than before. Peter had a feeling that if he ever got up the nerve to ask what exactly the cost of helping that little boy escape was, she would only smile and play it off as though it hadn't cost her anything important.

“I was all right on my own for a while,” Myka continued, drawing Peter's attention back to him. “Almost a year on my own, I managed to survive and avoid being found by anyone. But one day, I was careless. I had a string of bad luck hunting, and I was starving.”

Myka sighed.

“I was weak, and my mind was fuzzy,” he continued. “I tried fishing by some small rapids, but I didn't see the log floating downstream. It knocked me down, and I was too weak to fight the current. Finally, my head slammed against a rock, and I thought I was dead.”

Peter subconsciously grabbed Myka's hand. Myka smiled and squeezed it.

“I woke up in a pile of blankets, with a delicious smell in the air and the sound of humming. Her name was Delilah. I called her Del. She had fished me out of the river and nursed me for two days before I woke up.”

Myka smiled warmly at the memory, and Peter couldn't help but smile with him.

“I spent a month with her,” Myka continued. “She was on her twilight journey and welcomed me to join her. Besides asking about my parents, she never asked why I was running. She just offered to let me stay with her. Del told me all about the nomads, the journey. It was beautiful.”

Peter once more squeezed Myka's hand, knowing Del’s story would end soon.

“When we reached her destination, a small hilltop with only a few trees, we stayed for three days. She was warm and kind. She gave me all of her maps and her journals. Taught me some hunting techniques and how to avoid detection by the packs and rogues.”

Myka swallowed.

“It was the day before her journey ended when she saw the mark on me,” he said. “Del knew what it was, or at least, what it led to. She said she had seen too many bodies with marks like that when she was near Spring territories. I thought she would tell me to leave, but she only told me to show it to her.

“After she took a closer look, she told me that daffodils symbolized new beginnings. I was confused, but she asked if she could give me one last gift before she didn't have the strength to do it anymore.”

“She gave you the tattoo….” Peter smiled.

Myka smiled and nodded.

“She did,” he replied.

Peter gasped.

“What's wrong?” Myka asked.

“Nothing,” Peter laughed. “I just realized that you used to call them your ‘daffodels'. I just never asked why.”

Myka chuckled.

“Now you know,” he smiled warmly.

Peter reached his hand out to run his thumb along Myka's jaw.

“I wish I had asked sooner,” he whispered.

Myka licked his lips and swallowed.

“I wish I had told you sooner without you asking.”

Peter smiled and took a deep breath as he looked into Myka's dark, soulful eyes.

“Peter,” Myka whispered.

“Yea?”

Myka licked his lips nervously and moved closer.

“I want a chance,” he whispered.

Peter swallowed; his heart began to thump heavily in his chest.

“A chance for what?” Peter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Myka moved closer, his eyes staring back at Peter's, his lips hovering just centimeters from Peter's.

Peter took a shaky breath, so close to Myka's mouth that he could already taste the peppermint and honey on his tongue.

“A new beginning,” Myka whispered with a heat in his voice as he closed his mouth over Peter's.

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