Page 127 of Obsession

I stroke his cheek, and Aris nuzzles his face into my palm, mollified. “You will never lose me,” I tell him.

His eyes close. “Never.”

The word is a promise. The sentiment is something I’ve always known—we will never be apart—but assurances are welcome. His certainty and power ground me when I feel like I’m floating away.

I look away from him for a moment, staring at the carnage on the ground, and I wonder why that man wanted to kill me. I did nothing to him, but he was furious. He looked insulted by the very sight of me.

The thought makes me almost… sad, but I don’t know why.

Suddenly, a shadow moves in the corner, and I sit up straighter. Aris’ hold tightens around me, his eyes opening from the movement.

“What a mess,” a woman murmurs, the words echoing around the chamber, bouncing off the walls.

There is something about this voice that prickles my skin and makes my brain buzz and bubble. My blood is the rat; she is the piper. I look away from Aris and scan the hall, eyes skipping over the blood and bones as I seek out the speaker.

Aris shifts, irritated. “I said to leave us be,” he grunts. “Go. Now.”

But the stranger disobeys.

She steps into the light, revealing an ethereal face and a voluptuous, full body. Dark, ringlet curls fall to the floor and trail behind her as she prowls forward. Her bright purple eyes, framed by thick, black lashes, are fixed on the two of us, the look in them complimenting her small smile. Her skin is tan and flawless, coated in thin, golden chains that catch in the sunlight and enhance her already otherworldly beauty. She wears a long gown that shimmers, as if woven with liquid silver, with gemstones and trinkets woven into it—I see a locket and a brass key covered over by sheer, metallic netting.

Unwittingly, I lean forward in Aris’ lap, wanting instinctively to be closer to her. Why do I feel like I know this woman?

Or, like I should know her?

I’m so enamored that I hardly notice how still Aris goes beneath me.

“I’m afraid you can’t order me,” she says. Her plump, lilac lips, coated with a silver sheen, curve higher.

Aris lurches forward in sudden animation, and I barely make it to my feet as he lurches toward her, taking the stairs two at a time, demanding with incredulity and rage, “Sem?”

Chapter thirty-one

I say nothing as the two stare at one another. The woman is vaguely amused, and, though I can’t see his face, I know that Aris is enraged. His hands clench and unclench at his sides; I feel every twitch of his agitated muscles as if they were my own.

“Yes,” says the woman.

“How are you here?” Aris demands. “I thought you were dead."

Her head tilts to the side, chains clinking together, hair shifting over a shoulder. "Why would you think that?"

Aris tilts his head as well, mocking her gesture. "Jaegen has your magic,” he says, like she’s foolish.

The woman makes a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, still smiling, unresponsive to his provocation. "Maybe I gave him some,” she says, “just as I gave some to you."

"So coy, Sem.” He straightens, and Aris laughs, the sound all aggression. “You led us to believe you relinquished yourself. Why? What are you playing at?"

Lilac eyes flit to my form, brightening. "Do you like her?"

I do not move or react.

Aris tenses. “It is true, then: you made Mary."

"For you, yes. You like her, don't you?"

"You ensured that I would."

"Naturally. Now, what’s with the scowl? It’s making for an unkind reunion.”

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