Page 25 of Obsession

This post is not an outlier. There are videos and gifs of Aris literally ripping people’s jaws off, and the replies are:

Can he tear me in half next?

Look at those veins!!! that cheekbone! he is so babygirl

What happened to that Mary girl? Are they looking for a third?

Going to say something controversial. You know that guy killing everyone? Uhhh, is he single?

Ohhh… Keep me away from this man for his own safety.

WAIT, WAIT… IF HE CAN CHANGE HIS SHAPE, DOES THAT MEAN HE CAN GROW WHEN HE’S INSIDE YOU? YOU KNOW… HIS THING…

I can’t believe half of what I’m reading.

There are thousands of profiles posting things like this, and they seem to be real people. Some accounts go a step further and exist as dedications to him, posting pictures and sightings. Not for the interest of updating people and trying to keep them safe, but to lust after him.

Shaking my head, I shut off the computer, but the comments cycle through my head. If they met Aris, they’d be dead before they could even try anything risque. They have to know that. Are they insane?

And yet.

I think of my interactions with Aris—when he cupped my cheek, how his smirk made my heart race.

No.

Not going there.

In an attempt to distract myself, I resume exploring my new home.

Everything is fully furnished, clean, and ready to live in. It’s similar to the rest of the house in its dated decor, but there are no violent or gory paintings. The walls are paneled wood with neutral black-and-white photographs of famous locations—the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, and so forth—nothing troubling or triggering in any way. The wardrobe is wide, and the inside is filled to the brim with dresses all looking my size.

Did he have them tailored? I touch each, the texture welcome against my hands, before closing the wardrobe back up with a quiet click.

Anything I could think to need or want has been provided: in the bathroom are soft towels and robes, in the sitting room are even more books with tasteful marks nudged between the covers, and by the kitchenette is a kettle with rows of my favorite kind of tea stacked neatly.

Clearly, much consideration has been put into this space. Nothing is random; everything is to suit my taste—to the color of the comforter and sheets, to the intensity of the lights, to the temperature, with my very own thermostat. This should flatter me. Maybe it does, in a way. Who doesn’t want to be cared for? Those people online would be going feral. I can’t imagine how Elizabeth would react if her god made a room just for her. But the details just makes me wonder how long he’s been planning this.

Did it begin while hiding and using Henry’s body, or was it back when we were intertwined, when the necklace was starting to erase me? The fact that I can’t answer these removes my appreciation.

Finished with the tour, I take a seat at the vanity and pull my shirt over my shoulder to study the sigils on my skin. One is big and dark, as if burnt, and is composed of swirls; its twin, small and bright, is made of condensed spikes. Both rest at the height of my armpit, neither larger than the palm of my hand.

I’ll have to be careful of what I wear. Aris already knows that I have a way to shield my thoughts, despite not commenting on it. He might think that it’s from a rune I gave to myself; if he sees these sigils, he’ll know that’s not the case. Unlike the splotchy tattoo I gave myself, these marks are perfect and complete. Slightly hot to the touch and almost iridescent, they shimmer as I move under the light. They are the work of an expert.

I look at my arm, where my old rune sat surrounded by red, irritated skin. Now, it’s fully healed, the ink missing, the magic gone. I don’t know why Jaegen removed it, and, amid the pain of receiving the other runes, I hadn’t noticed its absence.

Its nonappearance stings. It was a pathetic thing, but I was proud of it. I put it on myself; I’d saved myself.

Something sits wrong that Jaegen just… wiped it off. He hadn’t even asked.

With a sigh, I let go of my shirt, letting it slide back up my arm. My feelings toward Jaegen are complicated. He is a fickle ally.

You know what you have to do, he’d said to me.

But… do I?

He was so vague. I need to be around Aris for the mark to work, but he didn’t know how long that would take. He didn’t say how it would work, either. Will it start glowing the moment Aris gets too close? I was too preoccupied with our reunion earlier to even think of looking. I wish that Jaegen and I come up with a way to stay in contact, but he was so eager to begin that we didn’t even discuss it.

My mind starts to spin—Jaegen, Aris, the runes, the fate of the world. I decide that I need a distraction; I need to leave this room. Stuck with my thoughts, I’ll lose my mind.

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