Page 73 of Obsession

“I don’t trust him,” he says, mouth twisted in distaste.

I take a quick look around the room, dumbly expecting Jaegen to materialize. When the air doesn’t shimmer and the cabin doesn’t fall apart, I quietly say, “Me either.”

His head tilts to the side, and he sits up straighter, eyes flicking around as he processes. “Why did we go with him, then?” asks Aris finally. He sounds frustrated that he can’t figure this out on his own.

“We had to.”

His lips twist to the side. “He said that you were not safe there,” says Aris.

“That’s true.”

“He also said that you were planning to abandon me.” He looks at me closely. “Did you want to leave me in the woods?”

I pause, wondering if I should lie or not, but I take too long deliberating. Unfortunately, sometimes not answering—either not quickly enough or not at all—is a response in and of itself. Aris’s shoulders drop; he seems to have learned this somewhere along the way.

“Why?” he asks quietly.

“I thought that…” I pay close attention to my words, as if speaking with a fae. His face has betrayed suspicion once or twice, making me think his uncanny ability to catch lies has passed on. “I thought that if you came with me, I might get hurt.”

“Why?”

I don’t know if this is the best time to explain that he’s an all-powerful god who could rip me to shreds with half a thought. Or maybe I should lay that out first, so he knows to be careful with me?

“You are strong,” I finally say. Again, my words are selected carefully. “And I didn’t know how you would react. Honestly, I still don’t.”

“You thought I would hurt you.” He jerks back, shaking his head. That line between his brows, just above the bridge of his nose, is back. “Because I’m sick…? You said something happened to my memory, that I’m sick.”

I nod, and Aris leans forward, pressing, “And we knew each other before, when I wasn’t sick?”

Another nod.

He pauses, squinting as he thinks. It’s interesting how open his face is, every emotion free for the world to see. Part of me feels he’s playing a part, but there’s a softness in his eyes that Aris couldn’t replicate, because he would never allow fragility.

“Did I hurt you before?” he asks.

The question takes me aback. For one, why does he care? For another, of all the things to ask, that’s what’s most important?

He’s strange, like this. Unpredictable, same as he was before, but in an entirely different way.

Once I manage my surprise, I consider the question; it’s a tough one. I know what he means—he’s talking about physical pain, and I can’t think of a time when Arisstruck me. However, my adrenaline is fading, and I feel the aches from where he pressed into me on the bed.

And, there are many other ways to hurt people.

Aris once more gathers my answer from silence, setting his mouth in a grim line as his eyes cast over my face. This worry is unlike him. He’s always so sure of himself, ten steps ahead. Never caring about others—not his followers, not me.

Why do I matter now? In his mind, we’ve just met.

“You said that no one could ever know me. What does that mean?”

“These are hard questions.”

“You said that you would answer them,” he pushes. “And should I not know who I am?”

I don’t respond for a moment. I have to be careful here. The magic worked, but could telling him something reverse it? Then again, hiding things, dodging his questions, that would make him suspicious. I’m meant to keep him here, subdued. I can’t have him turning against me.

I sigh. “Before you were sick, you were secretive. You kept to yourself, and the parts of yourself that you showed to people…” I pause. “Well, it was hard to know what parts were real sometimes, that’s all.”

He looks as unsatisfied with my answer as I felt saying it. “Neither of us knows me, then,” surmises Aris.

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