Later in the night, or really, in the early hours of the morning, I heard him moaning. Groaning. I heard the elastic of his boxers snapping against his belly, and the rustling of sheets. I knew what he was doing. I heard a soft sigh as his hand started to move. I curled up into a ball with my hands over my ears, trying to block the sound out. It was a futile attempt to respect his privacy and protect my sanity. I failed on both counts.

When he came, the scent of his pleasure filled the room. The purple haze of it wafted over every part of my body. Caressing and teasing me. Tormenting me as the fine tendrils of it wove their way around my limbs, around my throat, and finally up my nostrils and deep into my brain. I lay curled up on the sofa in the greatest agony you could ever imagine. I tried not to move until morning. Instead, I listened to the sound of his heartbeat and mine.

Two restless hearts beating in the dark.

“I’m going for a run,” Jules said, pulling his laces tight. By that point, running as a human struck me as an odd thing to do, but I decided not to say anything about it. “I need fresh air, I think.”

“I’ll come, too.”

“Um, no, I want to go by myself.”

His words stung unbelievably. I felt peculiar, almost panicked, at the thought of being away from him. For a mad second, I considered shifting and tracking him. I had the presence of mind to know I didn’t want to add stalker to my ever-growing list of flaws, so I forced myself not to.

Instead, I got dressed, noting with mild concern that my T-shirt was straining beyond the point I considered decent. It was embarrassingly tight across my chest and the sleeves rode up my arms in a failed effort to contain my biceps. I’d grown again. This time in bulk, not in height. It was the last thing I needed. More shopping. More trouble trying to find clothes that fit me.

I tried not to think about it and decided to head outside to chop some wood. I found the axe Jules had used the day before leaning against the porch. I set a large piece of wood onto one of the seating logs around the fire pit. I stepped back and raised the axe up over my head. I brought it down gently, consciously exerting little effort. After what had happened with the coffee mug, I knew I’d need to take precautions because of my strength. Evidently, I didn’t moderate my force enough. As I brought the axe down, it sliced through the wood I was chopping like butter, without any resistance. Not only that, it sliced clear through the thick, heavy log we’d been using as seating, too.