Page 89 of Obsession

His eyes narrow. “No.”

“No?”

“No, this is real,” says Aris, and suddenly untangles our limbs to dig his fingers in my hair and pull me close.

And, for the first time that he can remember, our lips connect.

He breaks apart to bring a kiss to my neck. “Real,” he says, then kisses my collarbone. “Real,” Aris tells me again, trailing marks of love down my arm. He stops by my hand, placing a kiss on the knuckle he wiped the blood off of before repeating, softly, “Real.”

I watch him, witless. I just told him he’s a god. I told him his powers are limitless, that he has devoted followers and a plan larger than the world I live in, but, instead of rushing to the forest to escape, he is kissing me.

As his mouth returns to my neck, heat flashes through me. I know, more than I know anything, that I need him.

More of him.

Now that the truth is out, now that he has accepted it, learned it, and wants me regardless, it’s like a veil has lifted and everything holding me back from touching him has disappeared.

Like he senses this, Aris pulls back to get a good look at my face, black eyes glinting as his lips upturn. I need not voice my need; he need not voice his. We are nothing if not attuned to one another.

For the second time today, he carries me into the bedroom. Not to sleep, this time.

Chapter twenty

We watch films.

We play games.

We talk.

The days begin and end. Wherever or whatever this cabin is, the sky outside of it functions as it regularly would; the sun rises and sets, the moon appears in phases, and on and on it goes.

At first, the passage of time is hardly noticeable; the food restocks itself, the trash disappearing an hour after I take it out. Truthfully, and maybe by Jaegen’s design, there is nothing to concern myself with but Aris.

I learn this new Aris; he learns me, and the world, but, to him, there is little difference.

We discover the intimate, sensitive parts of each other, each stroke and kiss feeding the hungry thing growing between us. And finally, that thing gestates, and I feel comfortable enough—trust him enough—to take my shirt off, revealing the two sigils burned into my back.

The night that I show him, Aris studies the marks silently. Watching him over my shoulder, brows pushed together, I can tell that he doesn’t know what they mean.

For whatever reason, I tell him. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe I hate myself and don’t think that I deserve happiness. Whatever it is, it brings me to tell him it. All of it.

It was me; I worked with Jaegen. I’m why he’s like this.

His head tilts to the side, pausing in his stroking of my head, but he soon resumes. I keep staring, waiting for something—pulsing shadows, lightning, rage.

“Aris?” I push. “What do you think about that?”

“You expect ire,” he notes, then shakes his head. “To the contrary, I am impressed. I was nearly omnipotent, and you found a way to stop me—a human, with no power.”

The praise takes me aback, and I hardly notice his fingers trailing to the sigils, lightly tracing the lines.

“Jaegen put these on you?” he asks, hand falling abruptly when I turn around with tears in my eyes.

He blinks. “What’s wrong?” Something occurs to him, and the glint of anger I’ve been waiting for finally mars his expression. “Did he hurt you?”

I can’t speak, the memory striking me—how Jaegen kept me still and I couldn’t move, how I knew he wouldn’t stop, even if I begged. Because I did beg, and he still did it a second time.

Taking in my expression, Aris’ rage leaves, because he knows that anger isn’t what I need.

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