“You sound like you’ve been looking into it.”

Castro shrugs, keeping his expression turned to the shadows as he pulls on his pants. “Maybe a little.”

“Just a little?” I tease, but he still doesn’t look at me.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

Castro turns away and starts rummaging in boxes, letting out a hum of approval as he finds a roll of paper towel. He unwinds several sheets and is about to tear them free when his gaze lands on my thighs, and then unrolls another ten more sheets. He hands the wad of paper towel to me then settles on just giving me the rest of the roll. With little more than a fleeting smile, Castro turns away and gathers the empty and half-drunk bottles of wine, taking them behind the furnace where he had been hiding to leave them on the floor. I clean the mess between my legs as I watch Castro gather my clothes.

“Thank you,” I say as he kneels down next to me and passes me my clothing that I gather in my arms and clutch to my chest.

“No, Layla.” Castro stares at the ruined flesh of my leg for a moment long enough to ignite the rage in his eyes. He swallows and his expression turns sorrowful, that resignation returning to steal the light from the golden flecks in his scales. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something I never thought I’d have. It was beautiful. And I’m so grateful.”

I try to calm the blush that floods my cheeks. “It was my pleasure,” I say, a smirk playing on my lips as I set the rest of my belongings to the side and pull my bra straps up my shoulders. “I’m not sure the family will be so appreciative though, we’ve kind of fucked their blanket. I hope it’s not some kind of family heirloom.”

“I think you should be more worried about finding a plausible excuse for why it took more than ten minutes to kill an unarmed Lizardman. Your best options will probably be to say you were checking the rest of the grounds for others, just in case.” Castro turns away before he can see the dismay settle in my skin. Does he think I’m the kind of person who would just fuck a guy to turn around and shoot him heartlessly? He really believes I would just exterminate him after this? All in the name of some stupid job that I’ve been at for three whole days, and I don’t even enjoy doing?

“I know a decade of demon-hunting can stain a soul in darkness, but I didn’t think I came off that cold,” I say with a bitter edge as I pull my shirt over my head.

Castro wheels around, anger flaring in the vertical slits of his eyes. “I won’t do anything to jeopardize you, Layla. Never.” He drops to one knee, as though he’s proposing something romantic and not a tragedy. Castro opens his hand, the holstered gun resting in his scaled palm. “I’m not saying this because I think you have no feelings or that you’re cold-hearted. I’m saying that if you don’t exterminate me, you’ll lose your job. There will be an investigation. They’ll know you broke the law, because I broke the law and you let me go. I can’t do that to you.”

I swallow, Castro watching the movement of it with both desire and anguish. “Why not?” I whisper, my voice strained. “Why wouldn’t you just leave? What do you care if I get in trouble?”

Castro reaches out and traces a line down my face, his claw the most delicate whisper against my skin. “Because to me, Layla, you are…” he trails off, my eyes stinging, my throat burning. “You are precious. You are my mate, Layla. I can’t let anyone bring harm to you. Especially me.”

My hands are numb as Castro pulls the gun from the holster, placing the cool metal on my palm. He curls my fingers around it until my index lays on the trigger, and then he stands.

“It’s okay,” he says, forcing a melancholy smile. “I’m not angry. I’m ready to go now.”

I stare down at the weapon for a long moment, willing the unexpected tears to evaporate before they can fall. My legs shake as I rise to my feet, my knuckles bleaching as I clutch the familiar weight of a weapon. “You’re ready to go now?” I repeat as I point the barrel of the gun at Castro’s heart. We stare at one another, that smile etched unerringly on Castro’s face as though he’s trying to impart his strength into me.

I take a deep breath.

I release the clip on the magazine and throw it and the gun across the floor.

“Excellent. If you’re ready to go, then get in the fucking van, idiot. And bring my fucking pants. Boots too.” I start marching up the stairs, stomping with more force than is necessary, relishing the bite of pain in my damaged leg. “And the goddamn gun too,” I toss over my shoulder. “We’re probably going to need it.”

“Layla… Layla!”

I hear Castro scrambling in the basement as I push the door open with enough force that it slams shut behind me. Then I wait with my arms crossed, pantsless and fuming next to the van. Castro rushes out from the cellar a moment later with my belongings gathered in his arms, panting as though he’s just run a marathon.

“Layla, what are you doing?” Castro asks as I pull the boots from his grip and start putting them on, not bothering with the jeans.

“I’m taking you to Tingletown. What does it look like you obtuse, double-dicked motherfucker?”

“Like you’re throwing your life away for a creature who doesn’t belong here.”

I let out a growl and pull open the passenger door of the van before I turn back to the stunned Lizardman, yanking the rest of my belongings from his grip to toss them inside. When I face him once more, I invade his space, the faint scent of desire wafting between us to ignite my veins. Castro looks down at me with the smallest shard of hope piercing through his shocked expression.

“Shut up, you infuriating, sexy, two-dick monster,” I say, punctuating every word with a poke of my pointer finger to the muscled wall of Castro’s chest. “You said you wanted another life, another chance. You risked everything for a shot at Tingletown. Well guess what, Scales. I want another life too. And maybe I want to find it with you.”

Castro gasps, the purring sound starting up from the depths of his chest. His eyes soften as his gaze flows over my face. “Layla, I–”

“Stop. Talking. I’m super pissed right now and I need to hang on to that so we can have angry sex as soon as we find someplace safe to stop tonight.”

“Are you…kidnapping me?”

“Damn straight I am,” I say as I stomp to the driver’s side of the van. “And you’re going to play all Stockholm Syndrome and we’re going to have super hot, Shirley Temple-flavored kidnap sex games, so get in the fucking van.”

I glance over the hood of the vehicle and meet Castro’s eyes, my heart melting even though I won’t let it show. But I think he still sees it, the embers of excitement and happiness burning in the hidden corners of my chest. Castro gives me a bright smile, the joy shimmering in every fleck of gold buried in those midnight scales.

We get in the van and leave the farmhouse behind, shedding our old lives like discarded scales. Before long, we’re headed to the one safe haven in a land riddled with demons and nightmares, fears and suspicion.

A sanctuary.

Tingletown.

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EPILOGUE

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GUMDROP

I try my best to look on the brightest, shiniest, most glittery side of life, but being a limp-dick unicorn is about as much fun as eating salted cotton candy.

It flurking sucks.

I’ve tried everything to keep my horn stiff. I’ve rubbed it in mud and let it bake in the sun. I’ve made a brace out of twigs and woven grasses. I even journeyed to a magical mountain to beg a witch to fix me. That…didn’t go well. I woke up the next day with a nasty headache and a horn that was still as floppy as the day I stepped in her smelly, dark cavern. Plus, I think she might have taken a kidney.