Private Finished I can only make you see the moon. You can touch it, but that's up to you.

Lochlann was strangely disconnected from all of this. He felt as though he was standing outside in the field, still digging in the frozen ground, and everything that was happening now was happening to a different Lochlann. An impostor Lochlann, perhaps.

He didn't recognize his own hands when he came over to Guinevere and propped her up with more pillows so she was almost upright. He guided her hand to the cup of water but he never let go. He was watching her fingers for trembling; his own were shaking a little but he was used to it by now.

"Here," he said.

After another moment, Lochlann asked, "What happened?"

He didn't understand.

He didn't want to understand.

“You’re welcome,” Lochlann said. It was automatic and gave him some semblance of control over the situation, some way to hide his surprise.
“I’m sorry, too,” Lochlann said.
This surprised him.
His confession showed on his face in one moment of raw honesty. Lochlann wasn’t standing in the field anymore. He was standing in the kitchen, with Guinevere Haze. Whether or not he hated her didn’t matter right now; he was too tired to figure out his feelings and she was being too honest.
“A lot changed,” Lochlann said. “But what happened to you?”

Lochlann heard footsteps on the porch just as he was taking the water from her. He froze.

He looked from the door, to Guinevere, who was spread out on his table among the blankets like a sacrificial animal being prepared for slaughter. She'd been spread out in a similar way that night he watched her kill a man, the night Guinevere controlled his body with just a word.

The door opened.

Lochlann pushed her legs apart and hunched over her body. He positioned one of her hands above her head to give her the look of someone surrendering to passion and to allow easy access to her breast. He placed his hand on her clinically and buried his face in her neck.

"They can't see this," he said.

But he didn't mean sex.

He meant weakness.

He mouthed at her neck and when his brother walked into the kitchen, Lochlann jerked up as though in surprise, and Lawrence reeled back.

"Fuck, Lochlann," Lawrence said in Welsh. "We have to eat here."

Lochlann pried his mouth from Guinevere's neck, which he'd started to look, and immediately stepped back from her legs and looked abashed. "I didn't think anyone was going to bother coming in the house."

"Dad wanted to know why you didn't finish digging the fence posts," Lawrence said. He had a hand over his face as though that'd stop him from seeing what he just saw.

"Because we've got a guest, for dinner," Lochlann answered. "Which we're supposed to have together, because it's the holidays."

The whole conversation was in Welsh. Lochlann knew GUinevere would understand, but Lawrence didn't.

"Fine just...gah...Lochlann," Lawrence shook his head, apologized to Guinevere, and stomped up the stairs.

Lochlann looked at Guin and gave a nervous exhale.

"I can take you upstairs to my room but it's cold up there," he said. He pressed a hand to her forehead. She didn't feel hot like she had that day she was sick, but Lochlann didn't know what to do. He didn't know why she passed out. He didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling. he just felt hollow and alone.

"Okay," Lochlann said.

When he saw her sway when her feet came over the table, Lochlann put up two fingers, just as he did for her shoulder to keep her pinned down before, but this time he hung them in the air. Wait, they said.

He turned off the stove then came over to her, gathered her in the blankets, and picked her up.

"Wrap your legs around me," he whispered.

It'd look sexual this way in case, as Lochlann worried, they'd run into Lawrence on the way up the stairs.

He carried her upstairs. The heat disappeared slowly until their breath hung in the air once more. He'd have to fix that. He'd need to go chop more wood for the burner. He should have picked up an electric heater for the room, too. The thought hadn't crossed his mind earlier.

He brought her up the stairs and, when he heard the door open and Lawrence come down the hall, Lochlann pressed her up against the wall and started to kiss her. He ignored his brother, who sighed in a way that was clearly intended for Lochlann to hear, as he walked passed them.

When they came upstairs, Lochlann set her on the bed.

He looked at her.

He looked at her for a very long time. His fingers were shaking. His tongue felt too dry.

Then, he asked, "Why did you lose so much weight?"

Lochlann considered what she said.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

He had a complicated relationship with food himself. He was far from the sort of person who should be giving advice or telling what was good for her.

"How long has this been going on for?" he asked.

Her other comment made him lurch back for a moment, until he realized she was talking about sex with him. Lochlann shook his head. No, there was no way he could have gotten her pregnant.

"You haven't menstruated?" he asked her. He knew enough about sexuality to feel comfortable asking the question, even if the answer was making him wonder about her.

She laughed at him and for some reason, that annoyed him. It was usually the other way around.

"I though the other reasons had to do with the fact that I can't knock you up because--" Lochlann froze.

He took a step back and his back was against the closed door.

I'm only human, Lochlann."

"You're.....what?" he asked her.

He stared at her as though she'd just told him she was a unicorn, although, really, that was more believable.

"You're...w..what?" he repeated.

He was gaping at her like a fish. He bit his bottom lip and then Lochlann sunk down to the floor. His back was pressed up to the door as though he was barring it from intruders, but it was just the two of them.

All this time, he'd thought Guinevere was something else.

"You're lying," he said.

That was the only explanation.

"Guinevere, I did things to you," he said. He put his hand over his mouth. Oh god, those were things that should not have been done to a human. It made her sexual prowress all the more interesting. He'd banged succubi, for gods' sake.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

His eyes were wide.

He was staring at her and his mouth was agape.

"...How....do you...know all those things about me?" he asked. "And the spells? How about those? Are you a witch?"

"Oh," Lochlann said. He repeated that each time she said something, summarizing the wide-eyed expression on his face.

Something cold was breaking apart in his stomach and digesting it's way through his blood stream.

Guinevere Haze was human.

Guinevere Haze was a gifted human, yes, but she was human.

Guinevere Haze was a human with a prominent rib cage and hip bones. Guinevere Haze passed out in his yard. Guinevere Haze didn't eat breakfast. Guinevere Haze was losing weight.

Guinevere Haze was a human.

In a house

Full of monsters

that ate humans.

Lochlann wasn't even embarrassed when he said, "I thought you were a goddess."

He'd been worshiping her like one, sacrificing himself to her body over and over again. He'd bled for her. He was ready to die by her hand.

Despite everything, he realized he still was.

But oh god, she was human.

Human.

Human.

Human.

She had no idea what it was like to be a monster.

They had even less in common than he ever imagined.

"Oh, god, Guinevere," Lochlann put his face in his hands. "You can't stay here."

"I know," Lochlann said. "I've tried not to."

He was surprised by this, but he said the words, so they were true.

He'd tried not to know her.

He didn't want to know anything about the person who ruined his life over and over again, but that was himself.

He didn't want to know anything about Guinevere Haze, but he craved anything about her. He couldn't reconcile the two thoughts together.

He couldn't accept that he was destroying his own life.

When she said she could still kill his family, Lochlann laughed at her. it felt good. It was his turn to admit something was ridicilous.

"Obviously," Lochlann said. "You've never had a problem killing people before. I wouldn't expect now to be any different."

That's not what he was afraid of though.

Lochlann stood up. he closed the distance between them in two long-legged strides. he pushed her back down on the bed and started to lift up her shirt.

"Guinevere," he said. "I know this about you: You are too thin. If you are a sheep, we would remove you from the herd. You could still kill us, it's true, but don't forget that we could kill you, too. My family isn't like me, Guinevere. They're capable. "

He didn't forget his earlier question.

He could be persistent, too.

"How long have you been like this?" he traced his fingers along her stomach.