Page 63 of Obsession

Now under his sole scrutiny, my heart races as I recall Aris idly cracking the marble countertop. I try to weigh that unhinged strength with the pain of being choked by Jaegen, and have trouble deciding which would be worse. Jaegen was aware of himself and left me alive, at least. If Aris goes into another trance when I’m too close…

Aris raises a brow. “‘Show you?’”

“Yes.”

His face does something complicated. “Very well,” he murmurs, and I try to hide my surprise and apprehension.

The two of us begin walking, Aris in the lead.

The castle is admittedly smaller and less confusing than our old home, but an aura of foreboding grows with each step Aris takes, his presence contaminating. When we first arrived, the halls were lighter and more open; now, they feel oppressive.

Finally, Aris stops outside of a door, twisting the knob to reveal a spacious interior. It’s not as big as my room at the manor and not nearly as customized, but it’s gorgeous. The color palette is light; the bed’s canopy and sheets are white, as well as the curtains and window drapes. As I take a step inside, I note how old the air smells.

I look back at Aris, who drinks in my reaction. “Do you like it?”

I wonder if he picked it out for me. “Yes,” I admit, then clear my throat. My heart thumps loudly in my ears. “Will you… stay?” I ask.

His eyes narrow. “Why?”

He is watching too carefully; I can give him nothing but the truth. “I didn’t have any nightmares last night,” I say. “When I was… with you.”

“Nightmares?” he says slowly, like biting a coin to see if it’s real. “What are they about?”

Needles and death and suffocation. And, interestingly, not about him and the havoc he wreaks.

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” I say, refusing to elaborate. Part of me superstitiously believes that speaking about my dreams emboldens my psyche, like acknowledging the taunts of a bully. Best leave them alone and hope they’ll grow bored.

He notices my lack of answer but says nothing, offering a short, unsatisfied nod as he follows me in.

Unlike last night, I’m not so exhausted that I don’t know what I’m doing. That makes this harder. I’m acutely aware of Aris’ presence as he walks around, picking up trinkets that his followers didn’t replace.

I jump slightly when trilling music plays, glancing over my shoulder to see Aris playing with an antique music box. I didn’t even hear him wind it. He sets the box back on a table and looks at me.

An unfamiliar, haunting melody fills the space between the two of us as we regard one another almost warily. He knows I’ve told him the truth; he kept my nightmares at bay last night. But, certainly, that isn’t all that this is about. Why am I behaving differently so suddenly? Do I have another angle? And, if so, what is it?

I sigh, kicking off my shoes and shrugging my jacket onto a stiff chair by the window. My personal belongings aren’t here yet—personal, as in the things that Aris had made for me—but I’m fine sleeping in just my shirt. Despite the horrors of today, we were so high up that we missed all of the gore; the shirt is spotless.

But I am wearing jeans, and they would be uncomfortable to sleep in.

I glance at Aris, who watches me keenly.

Blushing, I turn away and work as quickly as possible to remove my pants and climb into bed. But my stiffness makes me clumsy, and the tight jeans stick to every inch of me. When they’re finally off, the task has taken twice as long as it should and my face feels like it’s on fire.

Aris’ eyes are on me all the while.

The music from the box stops as I settle into bed, heart hammering in my chest. I spot the outline of Aris from behind the bed’s white curtains, dim and hard to follow as he prowls closer. The room is lit; it was lit when we entered, but each candle extinguishes as he passes by, until he is by the edge of the bed and only two candles remain, each on one of the side tables.

Still, there is enough light to see the curve of his lips. Though he doesn’t know what I’m up to, he’s decided to have some fun with it.

Part of me expects him to pounce and pin me to the mattress, but Aris surprises me with some civility, sitting and laying down on the bed as a human might.

Now, we are quiet.

Ten minutes ago, my feet were dragging and I would’ve been fine sleeping on the carpet so long as it meant that I could close my eyes. Now, I’m wide awake, conscious of his presence. If I moved slightly, our shoulders would touch.

There is a sense of… anticipation.

“You are disgusted by me,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “Why would you want me here?”

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