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“Tell me what it’s like.”
He swallowed, nervousness bleeding through as he thought about what she’d meant by that, hands carefully clasped over the tiny human ones. “It’s...hard to describe.” Cedric wanted to run his hand through his hair, swallowing back the aches and tired feeling that bled into his bones. “It feels like there’s another side, something primal, that calls out during certain instances. Your senses are...sharper.”
There had been enough of it in his lifetime to know when his senses were alerting him of danger, or of the sweet scent of magnolias, the soft gaze of the woman in front of him too much to bear at the moment. How he wanted to just bury himself in the small comfort she brought him, gentle fingers touching scars and taking care of his wounds. It was a kindness he couldn’t repay, shame filling his heart as he thought about the following morning.
“So that’s how you could tell.” Cedric watched as Annmarie’s fingers touched at her neck, something absently present in her mind. It slipped away before she could speak it, words failing her for the moment. “Is that why you’re torn up like this, too?” She knew a little, though it wasn’t enough to comprehend just what he was, in his entirety.
“...sort of.” It earned him a sharp admonishment, careful fingers squeezing his hands as amber met chocolate, a frown on her face. “If I...if I did it more frequently, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. But I have my reasons for not doing so.” He cut the conversation abruptly, wanting to steer away from the sadness that came with talking of the past.
Annmarie could only shrug, filing the information away for later. “I understand. But you should take better care of yourself...your secret is safe with me. Just like I hope mine is with you.”