Page 99 of Obsession

I can’t help my smile. He’s too cute like this. “It’s great,” I say honestly. Before Aris came to this world, a week’s stay in a place like this would be worth a couple grand, easy. A whole honeymoon.

I don’t say that last part—for obvious reasons.

He nods, shoulders sagging with relief, and we promptly unpack. We brought enough food and clothes for a few days' travel, and everything else is largely provided for by our accommodations. We’ll have to go exploring for supplies later, the idea both daunting and exciting.

I have a feeling that, if we venture out, we won’t encounter anyone else. When I was with Aris on his apocalypse world tour, we didn’t go anywhere tropical, but surely he sent something this way—if not a disgusting creature, then Ryan or another follower. After all, there’s a reason that the counters are coated in a thin sheen of dust. Who is left to rent the villa? Who is left to clean?

By the time the sun begins to set in this corner of the world, we’re reclined in chairs on the back porch to watch, Aris’ arm snug around my shoulder, my head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s beautiful,” he remarks quietly.

I nod, proud that he’s noticed, that he cares, and sad, too, that we are the only ones watching it.

Chapter twenty-two

“Ready?” I ask.

Aris tears his eyes from a breaking wave, standing from his normal spot on the deck. “Ready to be your pack mule?” he asks, passing me to retrieve my backpack on the table.

“You’re just so good at it.”

“My one talent.”

I smile, pulling up dark hair that’s grown back from when I cut it in the U.K., the dye completely faded. He isn’t really sour, but he doesn’t enjoy leaving the villa, even to get supplies. When I’m not actively giving him attention, Aris is almost always looking at the ocean or trees.

Something about this place has softened him. He will often close his eyes to feel the warm breeze, and, when we’re on the beach, he buries his hands in the sand, raising them to watch the grains trickle through his fingers. When we swim, he stays underwater and ventures far into the ocean, returning with exciting stories of aquatic creatures and sometimes a beautiful shell or pearl he abashedly offers as a present.

I’ve found him a few times in the canopy of trees, where he watches brightly colored birds keenly and learns to mimic their calls. He can even summon them now, like a fairytale princess.

He is in love with this world.

Some moments, a black mood overcomes him, where he rants about how he can’t understand why he would have destroyed any of it. And I will touch his face or his hands and his displeasure is abandoned; he is easily distracted.

Joining Aris at the door, we leave hand-in-hand, taking our usual, overgrown path in companionable silence. It’s a fifteen-minute journey to the main hotel, which we’ve visited several times over the past few weeks for food. Luckily, it’s like the place was stocked in preparation for an apocalypse—or for thousands of guests. Their freezers are still fully functioning and packed with large slabs of meat and produce. Most of what’s in the fridges has spoiled, but there is a huge pantry with preservatives and cans that will keep me going for a long time.

Like the villa, the hotel is completely abandoned. People were here once, which is obvious from the overturned suitcases, but they’re long gone. Something happened, though it’s unclear what; the lobby windows are smashed, chairs and couches overturned, fountains switched off. Some of the overhead lights twitch, and others have burned out entirely and will remain dark without maintenance. Beyond that, there’s no indication of what could have taken place.

Maybe a monster came through and gobbled up guests and workers whole. Perhaps pausing to belch up a femur, it continued hungrily to the next resort. Then to the next and the next.

Still, though the emptiness is uncanny, it’s a beautiful building. Glassy and modern, it’s contrary to the rustic feel of the villa. The only thing connecting the two is the hotel’s insignia imprinted on our towels.

Once inside, we navigate toward the kitchen, where Aris plops onto a counter while I look through the pantry. I start to pull out things for next week, the task so familiar that it’s almost robotic at this point.

“There is a waterfall I found that I want to take you to,” says Aris while I examine the expiration date on a jar of marinara sauce.

“Did your dolphin friends show you it?” I ask with a smile. Aris saw a dolphin once and made a big fuss about how it led him to a hidden cove. Truth be told, if it had been me with a dolphin familiar, I’d never stop talking about it, but I just love teasing him.

“I found it on my own,” he says with a laugh. “It isn’t too far off, actually.”

“Let’s go today,” I say.

He nods, and I finish up soon after. Aris shoulders the bag, the two of us heading back.

I am happy here. We are happy here. But, sometimes, I wonder what the future holds. The far-off and true future.

Aris is immortal, and I am decidedly not. What happens when my skin wrinkles and my back hunches? What happens when I die? Jaegen altered Silva’s mortality—will Aris do the same to me?

Do I want that? And what if I don’t? Will Aris accept it?

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