Page 60 of Obsession

Eventually, I am gently set on something soft and blankets are piled on top of me. The light switches out, and in a dumb, groggy state, I know that I am about to be left.

“Wait,” I murmur. “Stay.”

There is a long pause. “Mary,” says Aris with some surprise.

I prepare myself for an innuendo or verbal lashing, but there is only silence.

Finally, when I’m about entirely unconscious, I feel the covers begin to shift as a body settles next to me.

I reach out blindly for some part of him, finding nothing but air. He must take pity on me because a hand eventually clasps my own. Our fingers interlock and bury beneath the blankets, to help alleviate the coolness of his skin.

He is with me.

In the morning, I will feel ashamed. I will tell myself that this is because of Jaegen and the spell, that this is premeditated for purposes of the plan. The truth is that I’m too tired to scheme.

I was afraid tonight; I didn’t know if the fire would claim me, if I would survive the fall from the window, if Jaegen would stop choking me. The truth is that I was scared, and that, right now, I want Aris.

His permanence. His power. For better or worse.

Slowly, a hand begins to move through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. I let out a soft sigh, leaning toward him, wondering in my deliria why I waited so long to let this happen.

“I must say,” he murmurs. “I am surprised by this development. For some time, I’ve adjusted my expectations.”

The sound of his voice relaxes me further, and it takes a moment for his words to even register. Expectations… How long has he waited for this?

I picture him on his throne, considering different scenarios—if he touched my hair, where would he begin? Would he brush a full curl, or simply rest his hand by my scalp? And, if I allowed any of this, then what? Where would he touch me next?

The thought fades, exhaustion hindering my imagination. I succumb to the simplicity of being regarded kindly.

Chapter fourteen

When I wake with arms wrapped around me, I go still, unsure if I’ve made a great mistake or achieved my first victory. Aris is unable to sleep and is aware of my tensing, but he makes no sound, no movement. He feigns relaxation and rubs my hand with his thumb.

How it feels is how it was when we were one; it feels like we are us again.

In a dumb rush, I wonder if I should forgive him—for his lies, for his mistakes, if I should go back to what we were before—whatever it was, however corroded and twisted. However rotten we were together, we were us.

But, in the end, I just can’t.

“Aris,” I murmur.

He sighs. His arms retract, the bed shifting as he sits up beside me. I turn over, struck by his messy hair and wrinkled shirt. He looks so… normal. It takes me aback, until I note our proximity and a different feeling shoots through me.

I am wearing only a towel, and our faces are inches from each other.

His eyes flit to my mouth, then narrow when he looks up and takes in my expression. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings, and I know what he sees: regret.

Aris stands abruptly and leaves the room. His movements are quick, but not angry. From the set of his shoulders and the brief glance I got of his face, I’d say he’s almost… embarrassed.

I stare after him for a moment before getting out of bed. Even movement stings, making my face contort as I push through the aches. A brief inspection reveals dark bruising over half of my torso. Almost every other part of me is scratched or rubbed raw from bark.

Great.

I reluctantly dress in someone else’s clothes, painfully shrugging on a khaki dress that’s a bit too small. There’s a walk-in closet with a rack of shoes, but I end up barefoot because none are my size.

By the time I rejoin Aris in the kitchen, our earlier encounter is pointedly absent from his expression. There is an unspoken agreement not to discuss last night.

Who knew that gods could be shy, if that’s what this is.

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