Page 124 of Obsession

He returns to my neck.

By the time the doors swing open, I’ve almost fallen asleep. My desire lays latent, dying embers needing fuel to burn. I want hard friction, but this is nice, too; I enjoy just being held. I enjoy the simple comfort.

He’s scratching my scalp perfectly. Every time another area needs itching, he shifts right to it and pets it in the best way. It’s heaven.

My eyes blink open slowly, relaxedly at the sound of heavy footsteps. The military unit must be here. Those people have guns. They are trained to kill and have come with hate and distrust in their hearts. And yet, I am unafraid. Aris would never let anything happen to me.

Indeed, Aris rumbles beneath me, voice simultaneously casual and threatening, “Do not come near us.”

The approaching footsteps stop at once.

There are about thirty of them, weighed down with armor and weaponry. Some have covered faces, others with features obscured by hats and sunglasses. They’re standing in a formation like geese flying south, with one, tall man in front of all the rest. Their leader? I can’t tell yet if they defer to him or not.

There is a pause, and then, “We appreciate you allowing us entry,” the man says. “We don’t want trouble.”

He is speaking for them. Yes, he must be their leader.

“No trouble,” Aris agrees, winking at me. I smile and lean back against him. I hadn’t realized I’d inched forward, that my interest was piqued.

The same one in front catches our interaction, his jaw setting. He begins, “Mary—”

Aris’ hand stills on my head, my scalp stinging as something sharp scrapes against it, as if his fingernails suddenly turned to claws. It hurts, a little; my eyes mist. “Do not speak to her,” he snaps. “Do not look at or even think of her.”

“Yes, of course,” the leader says quickly. “We are here only to negotiate, to converse.”

There is a brief, tense moment where the claws stay out and Ryan shifts in anticipation. If Aris were to twitch, even the slightest, I’d be scalped.

Finally, Aris lets out a breathy laugh. When he presses down again, he has smooth, human fingers, and he resumes playing with my hair. The pain is already forgotten. His tone is playful when he says, “Negotiate, you claim. Elaborate.”

Aris already knows their purpose. He knows what he wants and what he will do with them. He is toying.

The leader begins again, more reluctantly, “We want to discuss peace terms on behalf of… essentially, the world.”

It is appropriate, what the man is saying. Aris is a powerful being, and everyone would die should he wish. The fate of the world is subject to the whims of the man holding me.

How interesting: I am partaking in a conversation concerning an entire world. I wonder how this is my life, then stutter at the thought.

My… life? Something stirs in me. What is my life?

Aris, most obviously. This place. That is it. But was there something else once? A man with blue eyes, a school—magic? It feels like I’m trying to remember a dream, one where I learned important things, but it stays just out of my grasp.

Frustrated, I look at Aris, thinking he might provide the answer to this sudden and elusive problem, but he is staring at the men. I focus back on them again, and soon don’t remember what was bothering me at all.

“You say peace, and yet you come here with weapons,” remarks Aris.

“We both know bullets won’t do anything,” says the leader, and Aris’ hand possessively flexes on my thigh. The man follows the movement and swallows. “It isn’t a threat to—”

“I told you not to speak about her.”

He bows his head. “Of course.”

I will admit that the guns make me a little nervous. I know I’m safe, but these people look capable, and angry. It would take only one bullet.

I glance at Ryan, who is scowling and creeping closer. Soon, his invincible mass will be in front of me. I’ll admit, the sight of him is a comfort. Nothing can kill him or Aris.

Impenetrable, invincible, immortal. They protect me because I am none of those things; I can die, and I don’t want that. I want to stay here.

My eyes return to the militiamen, who grip their guns tightly. Maybe if I’m friendly, they’ll put them down?

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