Page 22 of Possession

It’s so quick and terrible that I can’t even think of reprimanding Aris; I’m too shocked. Did he really just do that? How could he have done that?

My lips—Aris’ lips—twist into a satisfied smile.

He admires the clump of flesh in his hand. It’s warm and bloody, and if I had control of my stomach, I’d be emptying it on the floor.

Aris tosses the ear into the fire without a second thought and sighs. “Stop screaming,” he says.

The big, one-eared man stops with one final grunt. His entire body is coiled like a snake, betraying his effort, but he looks up at Aris, his face bloody and contorted in agony. Despite the pain, there is wonder and worship in his gaze.

I’m too confused by his devotion to feel much horror at the blood running down his face. Aris just mutilated him, and he still hangs onto his every word?

“With just one ear, maybe now you will understand the importance of listening,” Aris says.

The man starts nodding desperately, whip fast. “Yes, my Lord, yes, my Lord,” he murmurs, head hanging low.

Aris studies him for a moment, as if to be sure, then looks away in sudden disinterest, eyes flitting to Silva. “I said that the body needs food. Where is it?”

The older man gets to his feet unsteadily. “Yes, my High Lord,” he murmurs, nodding. He gestures to the doorway. “It’s right this way. Come, please.”

Together, they both turn, leaving the man on the floor, and Aris’ sense of joy takes me off guard. I’ve never felt anything like this from him before. From my experience with Aris, he never felt fully happy. There was always malice lurking beneath. Even when he swirled, amused or satisfied, something held him back.

And now I know what it is. Now I know what it takes to make him absolutely giddy: Pain.

Jesus, Aris.

He twists my face into a vicious grin. I ate him, too.

Chapter five

Dinner is strange. Like he said he would, Aris gives me control again, and now I’m being served like an empress—but the empress of a land I just conquered, whose people are not too happy about it. Silva and two other women provide a vast number of dishes, all while sending looks that make me question whether the food is safe to eat. They don’t even bother trying to hide their disdain.

The large man, who I learned is named Ryan (which is such a normal name for someone who worships an evil god), is the worst. He stands by the doors, glowering at me the entire time. He hasn’t left to be treated or even cleaned up, so the gross, rounded cartilage where an ear used to be rests in plain sight. Blood, fresh and dried both, marks half of his face like a warrior painted for battle, but it’s the look in his eyes that uneases me. He stares at me like I’ve killed his mother and firstborn.

Why do they hate me? I ask Aris.

Because they want me. And, to them, you are in the way.

Being despised doesn’t exactly make me feel welcome here, but there’s no alternative. I could go back to the mages and ask to be locked away again, but Aris would never let that happen. Even if I could get Aris on board to leave, there’s nowhere else for us to go. I’ve thought it over, and Cera was right when she called us famous. People know about Aris and his vessel. It’s why my parents never visited, why no one ever wanted to—they all think I’m damned. Evil. No one would take us in after what Aris did, and there’s nowhere on this planet where we wouldn’t be recognized.

For now, it seems like I’m stuck here.

I could be angry about it—it is decidedly unfair, but there’s nowhere for that rage to go. Nothing to make with it.

At least the food is good. Even the sight of Ryan’s grisly face isn’t enough to curb my appetite. For the first time in a long time, I’m spooning hot soup in my mouth, eating real meat, and chewing on actual vegetables. It’s better than what we’d get on the streets, that’s for sure, but it doesn’t go to say that I’m comfortable staying here. Aris knows this, and says nothing.

After two large servings and thirty minutes of straight glares aimed in my direction, I push my plate in front of me, finished.

Did you eat enough? Aris immediately demands.

Yes. I hesitate, and the uncertainty I’m not used to feeling around Aris suddenly returns. I think of what he called me yesterday, weak and a victim, and I feel like both when I ask, Are you going to take control now?

No. Our body needs rest.

I look around the room, eyes landing on Silva, now standing by Ryan. “I’m—we’re—” I don’t even know what pronoun to use anymore. It’s my body, but Aris has been part of it for years. He’s also able to use it now and feels entitled to it. I sigh. “Uh, is there somewhere to sleep?”

“Follow me,” says Silva, leaving the room without further preamble.

At the head of the table, somewhere more feasting hall than dining room, I have to scurry to keep up with him. In ducking out the door, I keep my focus on Silva, doing my best to ignore Ryan’s cold stare.

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