by Sennah Tate
But Ben didn’t buy it. Elena deserved to know his truth. He couldn’t keep stringing her along, hoping to keep his nature a secret. He’d never be able to meet her family, take her on dates in town, or have any semblance of a normal life.
He felt misleading, so certain that if he told her the truth she wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
The normal troupe of bigfoot hunters using his home as a makeshift headquarters kept him from having the peace and quiet to actually think about his problems. Tucker pestered him more than any of them, refusing to acknowledge his attempts at solitude.
“Benny, do you have any theories on what triggered Nora’s break?”
Ben huffed, staring into space, trying purposely to ignore Tucker’s constant prodding.
“How should I know? I’m not the sasquatch whisperer,” he grumbled.
Tucker wasn’t having it. He pulled a chair up opposite Ben and his golden eyes bored deep down into his brother.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked, clearly not content to dance around the subject anymore.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben answered gruffly.
“Bull shit. You’ve been acting so weird lately. For as long as I can remember, you’ve been obsessed with the idea of another like you and now that we’ve found her, you don’t care?”
Who did Tucker think he was? It wasn’t any of his business.
“She’s nothing like me. She’s a murderer. A monster. Is that how you think of me?”
Tucker folded his arms in front of his chest, “Of course not. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“What did you mean, then? You all think I can read her mind just because we’ve both got overactive follicles?”
Gabi stepped in then, sensing that Tucker’s temper was at the boiling point, “That’s not what Tucker is saying at all,” she said gently. “We expected you to be a bit more… enthusiastic about tracking her down.”
Ben rolled his eyes, “Sorry I’ve got other things on my mind than your little witch hunt.”
“What things?” Tucker asked, refusing to drop the subject.
“If I wanted you to know, you would,” Benny answered finally, shutting off any other rebuttals.
He felt guilty for snapping at them both, but not guilty enough to apologize. They were the ones that barged into his house whenever they damn well pleased. They were the ones prying into his private life and making themselves at home in his business. He had nothing to feel guilty about.
Except Elena. He felt plenty guilty for not being honest with her. So guilty that he left for Aunt Bea’s the very second the sun dipped below the horizon. He had to tell her. Had to come clean. Even if it meant she’d never talk to — or look at — him again.
The thought of Elena never speaking to him again clenched at his chest until he found it hard to breathe. Could he be selfless enough to give her up? She deserved complete honesty, but he didn’t want to lose whatever it was that they had between them.
He found himself outside Bea’s little shack, still debating whether he’d actually go through with the conversation or not. Before he could second-guess himself again, he rapped on Elena’s bedroom window with a fingernail.
The threadbare curtains swished and Elena’s sleepy face appeared. Her eyes widened and she held up a finger before disappearing.
His blood thrummed through his veins, unruly and uncontrollable as white water rapids. A combination of anxiety and trepidation made him feel like his lungs would never have the capacity to let him catch his breath.
What was he doing here? He’d finally found a woman he was crazy about — couldn’t stop thinking about for even a moment — a woman that wasn’t scared of him, that didn’t run in terror when he approached or look at him with horror and contempt. He finally had a chance at happiness and here he was ready to sabotage it. What the hell?
Elena slipped out the front door, her blonde hair in pigtails and a set of flamingo-patterned pajamas.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he echoed, his heart hammering a staccato rhythm against his ribcage.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, “I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow. Is everything okay?”
The concern in her swirling shifting gaze only made him feel guiltier. He nodded and led her back to the porch swing.
“Can we sit?”
Elena looked confused. Again, guilt stabbed him in the gut with a fiery thrust. She nodded and sat.
Ben sighed, not even sure where to begin.
“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. He longed for the comfort of her touch, but dreaded the idea of her recoiling from him.
“What do you mean?”
Oh god. Where did he begin?
“I don’t know the best way to say this, Elena. I’m not exactly human. I… well I was. Once.”
Silence.
The words poured forth then, an uncontrollable stream of disjointed thoughts and ideas.
“I was a stupid kid. Got in too deep over my head. I was… turned into… Well, a monster.”
Elena frowned, “You’re not a…”
He stopped her with a raised hand, “I am a monster. A bigfoot, sasquatch, skunk ape, whatever you want to call me. The point is, I’m not the kind of guy you want to get involved with. I’m not really a guy at all anymore.”
When he finished, Benny was surprised to find her still looking at him with the open wide-eyes look of acceptance he’d grown to love. She wasn’t scared. Didn’t scream. Didn’t flee in terror and call for the townsfolk to gather their torches and pitchforks. Just looked at him with those iridescent pools of tender recognition.
“I know,” she said.
He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“What?”
Elena sighed, “I can’t explain it properly, but I know what you are, Ben. You’re amazing, kind, sweet and thoughtful. When I look at you, I see you. The goodness inside of you. I don’t care what others see. You aren’t a monster to me.”
He didn’t believe it. Couldn’t process the words. She wasn’t frightened? She didn’t want to run away from him? To call the tabloids and tell them the existence of swamp monsters? She didn’t think him disgusting or revolting?
Benny briefly wondered if he was dreaming.
“Can I…?” Elena whispered, bringing her hand up until it hovered only millimeters from his face.
He nodded, leaned his cheek into her palm and knew he wasn’t dreaming now — no dream could ever feel so good.
Her thumb traced the ridge of his cheek bone and her hand slipped across his jaw, slowly examining every contour of his face. Ben couldn’t pull his gaze away from her mesmerizing eyes. They pulled him in, hooking him, reeling him, and dragging him into their depths.
Elena’s fingers toyed with the hair above his ear, stroking the soft fur that covered his head before she leaned in.
He held a breath, afraid to move or speak. Terrified of breaking this spell between them.
Her lips found his in a chaste and tender embrace. Only the briefest tease, a mere taste of the wondrous sensations she had to offer. And as quickly as she’d kissed him, she pulled away, a smile playing on the lips he so wanted to capture and taste again.
“Goodnight, Ben.”
Chapter Eight
Elena
Though she thought she’d never be able to sleep that night, Elena woke up the next morning feeling well-rested, refreshed and positively bubbling with excitement.
Bea was a tsunami of excitement, herself.
“Now that you’ve got an understanding of your true sight, it’s time to learn more about your other powers,” she said.
Elena rubbed the sleep from her eyes and frowned, “Other powers?”
“Have you not figured it out, honey? You’re a witch.”
Elena nearly choked on the bite of muffin she’d just taken, “A what?”
&
nbsp; Bea chuckled and with a flick of her wrist brought the tea pot to them, “A witch,” she emphasized before making the tea pot disappear completely.
Elena’s mouth hung open for a long moment before she swallowed, “Is this the ‘family thing’ my parents didn’t want me to know about?”
Her aunt nodded, “Exactly. Sunset Glade is home to your family tree. All of your magical strings trace back here. That’s why whenever you’re here strange things seem to happen.”
“So am I not magical in other places?” Elena wasn’t even going to try to suss out what Bea meant by magic at the moment, she only wanted to understand what the old woman was trying to say.
“Oh, you definitely are. Think of yourself as a vessel… a tea pot. The magic inside of you is like the water. It’s not going to do much of anything until you bring it close to the fire—”
“Sunset Glade is the fire?”
Bea nodded, “And the closer you get, the water converts to steam, pressure builds and…”
“It boils over,” Elena finished the sentence, suddenly understanding so much about her life.
“If they didn’t want me to know about it, why did my parents send me here every summer?” A high-pitched buzzing near her ear alerted Elena to the presence of a mosquito in the kitchen and she swatted at it.
“There’s no way they could have kept you from boiling over eventually. It was better to induce it in a controlled environment with supervision.”
Elena nodded, swiping at the errant insect again.
“That actually explains a lot. What am I supposed to do with these powers?”
Bea laughed, “You watch too many movies. You don’t do anything. You’re not about to join a secret society or anything. It’s like knowing how to play an instrument. Sometimes it comes in handy. Some people will practice more than others. Some have a natural ability where others won’t. Some learn a little and never touch it again. But with magic, you have to at least learn how to keep it under control or strange things might happen.”
“Like pits opening to swallow me or limbs falling from trees?” Elena asked, remembering her first night back.
Bea shifted in her chair uncomfortably, “Well, the first one might be my fault,” she muttered.
Elena fixed her with a questioning look.
“In my defense, I didn’t expect your suitor to come by. I thought you would have to unlock your powers to pull yourself out. Powers discovered are much more powerful than those taught.”
“You dug that hole? I could’ve died in there!” Elena couldn’t believe her sweet little old aunt was capable of something so devious.
Bea chuckled, shaking her head, “Nonsense. Now, let’s work on honing this unruly magic of yours.”
Elena’s swatted at the mosquito again, having forgotten its presence.
“Perfect! Imagine a bubble around yourself. An invisible wall that the mosquito can’t get through.”
She did as instructed, but the incessant buzzing distracted her.
“You have to focus completely,” Bea coached.
Bubble, bubble, bubble, Elena chanted in her mind. The buzzing stopped. She opened her eyes and found a tiny soap bubble floating midair in its place.
Aunt Bea didn’t look impressed, “Not quite. We’ll keep trying.”
Hours later, Elena had to resist the urge to bang her head against the table in front of her. Ben had probably already given up on her. She couldn’t blame him. Bea wouldn’t let her leave until she mastered the bubble shield and she still hadn’t managed it. It didn’t help that thoughts of Ben kept distracting her. The memory of the kiss she’d given him teased her and made her want more.
“Concentrate,” Aunt Bea said sternly, “You never know when this might come in handy, Lainey.”
Elena had never seen Bea lose her patience even a little. She felt guilty for making the old woman reprimand her and resolved to try harder. If she could nail this one trick, she could leave and see Ben.
Bea hurled a pillow at her and Elena envisioned the bubble encompassing her body, impenetrable and solid. The pillow came within inches of her, bounced in the air and slid to the floor.
“Did I do it?” Elena cried, ready to jump for joy.
Bea hardly uttered a “Ye—” before Elena bolted from the shack, sprinting for the treeline.
Her feet carried her faster than she knew possible, excitement bubbling in her, propelling her deep into the swamp. She skidded to a stop at their patch of Marsh Lilies. He laid there across the raised roots of the mangroves amongst the flowers, his eyes closed, his body bathed in sunlight.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” he said without raising his head.
Elena couldn’t wipe the grin from her face, even if she felt guilty for being so late.
“I was detained,” she answered.
Ben laughed and gestured for her to join him. He held out his arms and Elena slipped into them as if she’d always belonged.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” she said, resting her head back against his shoulder.
Ben stroked her arm absently and Elena marveled at how intimate such a simple touch could be.
“I’d have to be the world’s biggest idiot to not wait for you.”
Elena sighed happily and they sat there together in amiable silence for a few minutes before Ben spoke again.
“I was thinking… Your Aunt Bea might like a wildberry tart to go with her tea.”
Elena nodded, “I’m sure she would.” His hand threaded with hers, igniting a feminine need she’d never been aware of before. A need to be held, caressed, taken care of…
“I could use a sous chef,” he said, his lips close to her ear, his voice barely a whisper.
Elena nodded, feeling dizzy with nearness to him. Cooking would take her mind off of the crackling attraction she felt. A distraction was in order before she did something reckless.
As this strange man led her through the swamp to his secluded cabin, Elena knew she should be more nervous. She knew she shouldn’t be so trusting of a stranger. Especially a stranger that wasn’t completely human.
The moment that thought slithered through her mind she quashed it. She knew better than that. She could see past the superficial. She knew what he looked like deep down — knew how attractive his inner goodness was. There was no doubt that he was worthy of her trust. He wasn’t dangerous — he was gorgeous.
A week ago, Elena never would have trusted her judgement of someone so readily. But now she knew about her true sight. She knew that he couldn’t hide from her or fool her. Every day he became more attractive.
Elena smiled to herself as a thought occurred to her: he was worthy of more than her trust. He was worthy of her heart.
Chapter Nine
Benny
“Okay, so keep stirring those berries, don’t let them burn,” Benny said, trusting Elena to handle the simple task of making the filling.
He still couldn’t really believe that she’d agreed to come back to his place with him. Even more, he couldn’t believe his good luck that no one else was there — they actually had some privacy.
“Um, is it supposed to bubble?” she asked as he rolled out the crust for the tarts.
“A little, maybe, just keep stirring.”
Elena made a little noise of self-doubt, but didn’t argue.
“How many bubbles is a little?” she asked a minute later.
He turned to see the pot boiling, bubble nearly spilling over the side. He raced across the kitchen and pulled the saucepan from the burner, caging Elena in his arms as he reached around her.
She turned those impossible eyes toward him and her forehead creased with a frown. Ben wanted nothing more than to smooth out those worry lines, to kiss away her frown, to soothe her worries…
“Sorry,” she whispered.
One side of his mouth quirked into a grin, “You didn’t tell me you’re hopeless in the kitchen,” he teased, still pinning her body between him and the counter.
Her lips parted and Benny imagined diving in for a taste.
“I have a confession,” she said softly enough that he leaned in a bit more, “I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”
His smile spread and he raised a hand, hovering just above her cheek, hesitant to mar her porcelain skin with his clumsy mitts.
The moment hung between them for a century. So close, yet lightyears too far.
A loud splat broke the tension just as Benny felt a piece of shrapnel strike the back of his neck. He instinctively shielded Elena’s body with his own, reaching around to the wetness — blood? — matting the fur of his neck. He brought his hand back to his eyes and found yellow on his fingertips instead of red. He looked around the room before realizing the perceived threat was non-existent. His eyes fell on the counter where one of the dozen eggs had — inexplicably — exploded spontaneously.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Elena sputtered in a hurry.
Ben just turned to her with a quizzical look.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, “I’m not exactly normal either,” she said.
“Clearly. It takes a special woman to hang out with bigfoot.”
She frowned, not appreciating his attempt at levity at that moment.
“No, really. I’m a witch. I… I didn’t even know there were such things. I just found out… I mean, it explains so much, but—”
“Is that why you see me differently?” he interrupted.
Elena nodded, “It’s still really new to me. True sight is my special gift, apparently. It’s like… you’re a wall and I can see through it… and something about spots on glass? It sounds better when Bea explains it,” she said, clearly flustered.
“It’s really hard for me to turn off. If I try and focus, I can see someone’s physical exterior, but I naturally see something deeper… your true self.” Her hand extended toward him and she traced a thumb over his eyebrow, her gaze locked on his.
“You don’t see a monster when you look at me?” He still couldn’t believe that someone like Elena could exist. That anyone could see past the monster on the outside.
