Page 81 of Obsession

My temples pound, eyes wide, head empty. Some moments capture even the best of us, where we are found out and no idea of how to proceed. I don’t know how to get out of this; I don’t know what angle to work.

“Do you care about me?”

His eyes narrow. He is teetering, struggling to control the wild side of him, the chaos. “I told you to give me an actual answer,” barks Aris.

“I’m trying to make my point.”

“Make it. Quickly.” He leans even closer, lips an inch from my neck. His breath is cold on my skin. So cold. It takes true effort to rein in a shiver; if I move in the slightest, I’ll touch him.

Goosebumps prickle my arms. “Do you care about me?” I repeat in a whisper.

He huffs, annoyed. “You know the answer to that.”

But I just wait.

Aris pauses, then pulls back slightly to let out an annoyed breath that’s almost like a sigh. “You…” In this position, I’m almost buried in his shirt and can’t see his face, but his tone has gentled enough that I’d expect it to be echoed in his expression. “You are are everything.”

Everything? I blink at the word and again try my best not to move.

“So, if you care, you wouldn’t want to hurt me?” I ask slowly. Treading carefully. “The way that you did before.”

“I don’t even remember that,” he growls, irritated again.

“Which means you don’t remember your strength, or your proclivities.”

Finally, Aris pulls back. He’s still caging me, but I can see his face now, giving me a challenging look. “Tell me about these proclivities.”

I freeze as he raises a hand, slowly running it through my hair. The edges of him are angry, but he is nothing but gentle when touching me. “Did I do this?” he asks with narrowed eyes, rubbing the scratches on my cheek from the estate fire. He goes to my neck, where the pads of his fingers move in circles over the fading bruises from Jaegen strangling me. “Or that?”

“Aris.” I shut my eyes to avoid the look on his face: desperate, frustrated, hurt. He wants me badly—so much that I should feel delighted refusing him, but I’m starting to lose my resolve. Because I kind of want him, too.

The muscles of my mind clutch tightly to morals and old scars. This is wrong. He is not himself, and, when he was himself, he was terrible.

“I would never hurt you.” He pauses, a weight in the air. “But you don’t believe me.”

My eyes fly open, and I purposefully avoid his expression as I shove at him to get off of me. Aris’ arms retract, and I walk to the kitchen. At first, I do it just to get away, and then I have the idea to make food. I’m not even hungry, but I need an excuse not to look at him.

“Are you scared of me?” Aris asks from the couch. For once, he hasn’t followed me.

“I’m scared,” I allow, rifling through the cabinet for a pan. “Isn’t that enough?”

Aris doesn’t immediately answer, the sound of shifting pots the only noise in the cabin. I pull out something random and start filling it with water to boil, then place it on the stove once it’s full. And then, a door slams shut.

The front door.

No.

I abandon my task to run to the window, mouth falling open at the sight of Aris striding toward the woods. He’s walking at a human pace, at least, but his rage has helped him clear half of the distance already.

Where is he going? What is he doing?

“Aris!” I yell, rushing out the door and into a run. My ribs scream at the movements, and I mercilessly push through the pain as I hurry toward him.

I can’t believe this. His normal pouting consists of him sitting with his arms crossed. Some glaring, maybe. This is a clear escalation. And he’s broken one of my rules: we tell each other before leaving!

“Aris!”

He doesn’t even turn to address me, still stomping across the yard, and my run turns into a full sprint.

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