Page 46 of On the Mountain

Cyrus pumped his brows. “Is this your rutting season?”

I chuckled, something else I was getting more used to doing.

We made tacos for dinner, then Cyrus asked for my laptop. I grabbed it and logged in to the streaming service I’d purchased, then sat beside him on the couch and watched him scroll.

“I’m trying to figure out what kind of show you’d like.”

I didn’t think I would like any, but I kept that to myself.

“Maybe we’ll start with a movie. Have you ever watched a movie?”

I shook my head.

“Not ever?”

“I saw some in foster care, shows played too, but I tuned them out. The outside world wasn’t allowed here.”

“For no one?”

“Chosen had internet access. No one else.”

“Baby,” he said, and I cocked my head.

“Baby?”

“It’s a term of endearment, like I’m hoping little lamb is.”

I knew that, but no one had ever called me baby but Bruce. The way Bruce said it was nothing like the way Cyrus did. It didn’t fill me with warmth like it did coming from Cyrus’s lips.

“Sorry. It just came out.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorr—shit. I know. Comes from a lifetime of messing up or just not wanting to give someone a reason to walk away from me.”

My insides vibrated with anger. I’d always known I would hate the outside world, but I hated it even more since meeting him. I could never like a place that made him feel so bad, so lonely, where there were people who wouldn’t want him. How could anyone smell the sweetness of his skin and want to do anything other than devour him?

“Now you’re mine.” I pressed my finger into the mark on his neck, hoping he knew that meant I didn’t know how to walk away even if I wanted to. Even if he wanted me to.

“Yours,” Cyrus echoed.

“No more talking.”

He nodded, knowing what that meant for me. Cyrus picked a movie about someone kidnapping a guy’s family. We set the laptop on the coffee table, and then he knelt, looking up at me with pleading eyes. When I nodded, he took off my pants and underwear, then relaxed between my legs with my cock in his mouth.

The movie was strange and loud. It made my head throb, so I just carded my fingers through his hair and watched him instead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cyrus

“Do you have any sixes?” I asked Crow as we sat at the table, him in the old chair and me in the one we’d made weeks and weeks ago. We used the same Go Fish cards my mom and I had played with. It was a silly kids’ game, but it was one my mom and I had always played, so it’s what I’d taught Crow.

He shook his head, as he always did instead of saying Go Fish. Maybe because he still didn’t like to talk too much. He still had times when he was quieter or would tell me no more talking. I tried my hardest not to push him when he was quiet and definitely never did when he specifically told me.

I drew a card, our bowls from the stew we’d had for dinner sitting beside us. It was Christmas Eve, something Crow didn’t mention, so I hadn’t either. Did he celebrate holidays? That was a ridiculous question. He likely hadn’t for at least ten years, unless he’d done it alone. Had Christmas been something his cult believed in? I wasn’t a religious person, and my mom hadn’t been either, but she’d loved Christmas. I wanted to share that with Crow, wanted to find a way to give him a special day, but I didn’t know how to do that or if he would even want it.

The holiday wasn’t something I’d considered when I came up the mountain with Crow, and the sadness beginning to weigh heavily on me was unfortunately all too familiar. I missed her, so much, and playing with her cards the day before Christmas, when there were no decorations and I had absolutely nothing to give Crow, bore down on me.