Page 78 of Obsession

“Are you cold?” he asks as I shiver, and he lets out a confused noise when I shake my head.

The corner of his bicep almost brushes my ear as he raises an arm to open the cupboard, and I still, terrified to even breathe for fear of making skin-to-skin contact. Because if we touch, what if I want more? What then?

Last night was incredible… before he wanted to kill me, that is. When we were in each others’ arms, trapped in a lust-filled haze, nothing existed but me and him. His hardness, the heat of my core, the promise of fulfillment.

Unaware of how his proximity affects me, Aris pulls down the exact type of skillet I wanted for my eggs, saying, “You shouldn’t be reaching like that if your ribs are hurt.”

I accept the pan slowly, turning to put some distance between us. Relief rushes through me with every centimeter gained. “How’d you know where it was?” I ask to distract myself.

“I reorganized last night.”

My grip adjusts on the handle, sexual nerves now overridden with regular nerves. If Aris did all of this in one night—reading books, reorganizing the kitchen, watching me—I have no idea how I’m going to keep him entertained for an extended period of time.

Unsettled and unsure of what else to do, I start cooking.

Aris watches me like I’m a culinary expert. His eyes are fixed on my every move, head tilted as he notes and memorizes the exact amount of salt and pepper I put into the pan. Though the interest is childlike and innocent, his eyes are sharp, intelligent; he learns quickly. It’s a reminder that he’ll soon grow bored of this place. He’ll want to leave. Move on.

I have no way of forcing him to stay.

When I finish, my mood has soured. I do my best to hide while making my plate, leaving leftovers in the pan. As I turn to find a place to sit, I notice Aris pulling out a plate for himself, which he piles the rest of the eggs on.

“What?” he says, noticing my shock.

“Uh… It’s just, you don’t normally eat.”

Aris blinks. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re eating.”

I don’t have a good answer, so I just hand him a fork and go into the living room. He takes a seat next to me on the couch, eyeing as I take a bite. Slowly and astutely, Aris mirrors my movements.

He’s doing a fine job until he gets to the part of chewing and swallowing. I’ve already taken my second bite by the time I notice that he’s crammed his mouth full.

Maybe he doesn’t know how to…?

“Like this,” I say, and take a comically noticeable swallow.

His brows furrow, and he copies the movement, immediately wincing. “I do not like that,” remarks Aris, setting his plate down.

I try not to laugh, unsure if it will make him self-conscious, but I can’t help my smile as I continue eating my eggs. Now, Aris no longer has his food to mess with and his entire focus is on me again. After a few bites, his gaze feels particularly probing, reminding me of the heated moments from last night.

My fork abruptly clatters back on the plate. “Let’s watch something! Did you see any movies last night?”

Aris just shakes his head, and I approach the bookshelf, taking inventory of the disks: a few thrillers, rom-coms, and a history piece. My hands pause over one of the romance movies. It’s the same one Aris and I watched in our cell.

Is this Jaegen’s idea of a joke—some sick reminder that I’m as trapped here as I was with the mages, or is it just a coincidence?

I shove the disk away and randomly select another to bring to Aris on the couch. “See if you like this,” I say. “You can read the back for the synopsis.”

He glances at the blurb on the disk for half of a second, then back at me, the information retained. “How do I know what I like?” he asks.

“Well,” I say quietly, trying to shove my guilt aside. I erased his interests from him; I took them away. But I did the right thing. His interests were homicide and destroying everyone on Earth.

“Well?”

“Well, we can just watch them all.”

“Really?” he asks, and I nod. Aris smiles, holding up the disk I gave him. “Let’s start with this one, then.”

“Sure.”

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