That blatantly wasn’t true—because what had the last few days been, if not emotional growth?—but Calladia appreciated the attempt at humor. It made it easier for her to finish the story.
“Anyway,” she said, “I finally came to my senses, thanks to Mariel.” Mariel had staged a few interventions over the years, but Calladia had been too blinded by love to listen—and later, too browbeaten. “She wasn’t getting results reasoning with me, so she did something tricky after Sam proposed. She invited me to come hiking with her back in Glimmer Falls.” Mariel had never been a fitness nut the way Calladia was, but she loved hiking, and the two of them had spent countless hours wandering the woods together. “We hadn’t gone in a while, and Sam had been limiting the time I spent with my friends, but he was out of town one weekend. So I drove up to Glimmer Falls and joined Mariel on a hike to the hot springs.”
She could picture it clearly. Calladia hadn’t exercised in a long time, and her workout pants and tank top had hung loose. When she’d looked in the mirror, she hadn’t recognized the frail woman playing dress-up in the old Calladia’s clothes.
“I couldn’t keep up,” Calladia said. “I used to run half-marathons, but I was winded within minutes of starting a gentle hike. After fifteen minutes, I nearly passed out. It was then I realized Sam hadn’t been improving me the way he claimed to be. Instead, he had made me weak.”
She’d cried her eyes out at the side of that trail while Mariel had held her and whispered assurances that this wasn’t the end, and she would be strong again.
Then Mariel had driven back to Sam’s apartment next to Crabtree College, helped Calladia pack her things, and brought her home.
“I dumped him by text,” Calladia told Astaroth. “I couldn’t bear to look at him again. He blew up my phone for a few weeks, then moved on. His new girlfriend was posted on Pixtagram within the month.”
Silence fell as her story concluded. That hadn’t been the real end of it, of course. It had taken time to build up her strength and confidence again. It would still take time for all the damage Sam had inflicted to heal. But like building a muscle, the places she had torn had become stronger with time. She would never let anyone make her feel small again.
Rain pattered gently against the tent, and wind soughed through the trees. It was wet and cold outside, but under the blanket with Astaroth, with magic glowing overhead, Calladia felt warm and safe.
Safe with her enemy—who would have thought? But she’d thought Sam an ally once, and look how that had turned out.
Astaroth cupped her cheek. “You’re strong.”
“Now I am. Back then I wasn’t.” It was embarrassing how much time she’d spent letting Sam tear her down. She hadn’t recognized the bars of her cage until she was too weak to open the cell door and escape.
“Being strong doesn’t mean winning every battle. Sometimes it means surviving to fight again.”
Her vision blurred with fresh tears. “Wow,” she said with a watery laugh. “That’s deep. Have you thought about writing advice columns?” Dear Sphinxie from the Glimmer Falls Gazette couldn’t touch his level of eloquence.
“Most of my advice is much less wholesome.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “I’m sorry that bastard hurt you. Is he still alive?”
That didn’t sound enough like a joke for her comfort. “You’re not allowed to murder him.”
Astaroth pouted. “Why not?”
Ridiculous demon. “Because we’re working on your redemption arc.”
He sighed dramatically. “Redemption sounds boring.”
“Does it?” Calladia shoved him to his back, then clambered on top, the blanket draping from her shoulders like a cape. “Even if only redeemed demons get laid?”
“A compelling argument.” He reached up to massage her breasts, then abruptly stopped, expression turning serious. “We only do this if you want to, understand? Not because you think you owe it to me or that I’m not interested in you without the sex.”
Oh, Hecate. Had this kindness and consideration been hiding under his ruthless fa?ade all along? Or had losing his memory given Astaroth the chance to reclaim the person he’d been before the centuries had hardened him?
Calladia wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to waste the night debating the issue. Maybe this would all go tits up and Astaroth would turn back into a villain. She’d survive. And not just survive, but thrive. Calladia was done letting other people try to diminish or reshape her. Sam hadn’t broken her; if it came down to it, Astaroth wouldn’t either.