A/N: There is a serious lack of fanfiction for The Caster Chronicles. It astounds me that it isn't more popular, but I kind of like it that way. There is an even greater lack of RidleyxLink (I call them Ridlink. Do they even have an official name?), which I guess doesn't astound me as much. But I checked, and there was only one. One! Personally, I love Ridley and Link more than Ethan and Lena, if you made me choose. This probably isn't great because I haven't had much time to read the books lately, but bear with me.
Ridley doesn't love me.
It doesn't really matter though, because I'm not sure she's capable of love. Most Dark Casters aren't. But Ridley's different. She's not like them.
But she probably doesn't love me. I'm like a broken toy to her. Something that was useful in the past, but not anymore. Something you only hold on to because you're waiting for the next one.
Ridley sighs in her sleep. I don't know if she remembered that she invited me here. Probably not. But I've already had my fill of Savannah's dreams, and some of Emily's. Besides, if I get hungry I can always have some of Ridley's.
That feels wrong, somehow. I've never invaded her head before. It would feel like a violation of her privacy.
So I settle for curling my arms around her, watching her sleep because I can't. She looks a lot more innocent when she's sleeping, but her pajamas are just weird. Half of them are like her usual clothes, all Siren's outfits that only tempt you even more to put your hands on her. And half of them are plain t-shirts and bottoms, like even Ridley wants comfort every once in a while.
Tonight she's half and half, like Lena's eyes. Skimpy little bottoms and a t-shirt just long enough that Ridley would normally wear as a nightgown. She's smiling in her sleep, looking more innocent than I've ever seen her. The gold eyes might be a turn-on, but I think I like the blue better. I don't have to worry about something bad happening, about Ridley leaving for the Dark Casters again.
Or leaving me.
Earlier this summer, when Ethan and Liv and I went looking for Lena, I said that I didn't love her. That I cared, but it wasn't like I "love her or anything". I was wrong, and I have three albums of Ridley-based songs to prove it.
I love Ridley.
Ridley doesn't love me.
I'm nothing to her, maybe less. I'm a broken toy. Useless.
But I settle up against her anyway, listening to her breathing. I smooth her blonde hair back from her neck, and she wriggles closer to me. I kiss her neck gently, kiss until it feels like my lips are burning with her fire. That used to be literal. I used to get dizzy and my whole body got too hot. But she's mortal now -as much as she hates it- and I'm a Linkubus. I hate that a little, because even though it comes with perks -like effortlessly huge muscles and invading people's heads- it's kind of crushing me too. Because my one chance with Ridley, to really be with Ridley, is gone. Because of John Breed. Now my touch can hurt her the same way her's used to hurt me.
And I kind of hate it. Even if I have that power over her -power I don't necessarily want- she's still the one in control. She could go for a hundred and two different guys, but I'll still be stuck on her. Ridley doesn't love me. Lollipop Girl, The Girl Is Gone, Run Away Runaway, Forgotten Smile, and a few dozen other songs to prove just how stuck I am.
So I try to enjoy this moment.
Because she'll probably break up with me tomorrow.