Page 87 of Obsession

“There’s no need to harass. You’re tired.” Aris completes another rub of my hair before adding smugly, “I know the signs.”

I say nothing for a moment, then murmur, “Yeah, he has the tendency to wear me out.”

“He called you fragile.” Some hardness enters his tone.

“He’s right. To the two of you, I am.”

“He said it as if he were calling you weak!” Aris says, frustrated. “He is weak. Such little control!”

“Hm…” I murmur sleepily, wondering how much Aris’ anger is speaking for him. It must have hurt his ego to be confronted with Jaegen’s power, unable to combat it. Though, Aris did bring a chill to the air. He summoned something…

“You are not weak,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m about to pass out because of a nosebleed,” I point out.

Aris scoffs, his hold tightening. “I don’t like it when you speak lowly of yourself.”

I don’t respond. It wasn’t so long ago that he was pressing me against a wall, leaning over me and saying, You don’t have the slightest idea how fragile you are. Pinning me against the floor. I was only making a point.

Who is the real Aris—that bully, or this soft, nuzzling creature?

“It’s just the truth,” I finally say, “which I promised to tell you: I’m fragile.”

“Fragility is not weakness. Fragility shows what is precious.”

He can’t mean that, can he?

“Sleep, Mary,” he replies, hand rising from my hip to brush hair behind my ear. As strands falls out, he brushes my hair back again and again, until he is just stroking me.

It’s how I touched him the night that I took his memory. The realization is almost enough to jolt me upright, but my panic subsides as quickly as it came. His touch is so gentle. If he knew, if he were on the cusp of even suspecting, Aris could not fake this plain adoration.

“Sleep,” he murmurs in my ear.

“So I’m a god,” says Aris.

I watch him carefully. His face is smooth, unmarred by scowl or snarl. His nose hasn’t curled, his brow hasn’t wrinkled, and his petting of my arm hasn’t changed in rhythm. He isn’t angry. He’s just… considering.

We’ve moved positions several times throughout our conversation, and I’m sprawled now with my head in his lap. His legs are hard like stone, the firmness offering security as my throat is bared.

After I woke, we moved to the couch for what I knew would be a lengthy discussion. Before we started, before we even sat down, the sight of the couch made the two of us stiffen. It felt as if Jaegen’s presence had infected the space. Wordlessly, we flipped the cushions and rearranged the room. Now, the television is against the front window, the couch replacing where the TV was against the wall. To cement the change, the bookshelf has also moved, as well as the rug.

Once our space felt like ours again, we settled and began talking. As I suspected, his questions were endless and relentlessly well thought out and intelligent. There was no way around them, nothing but the truth to be given.

And I gave it all… save for one tiny bit: My involvement in his memory loss. I conveniently didn’t mention the rune on my back. That is a story for another day, if I ever get around to telling it.

“Jaegen is my brother,” he continues. The frown I’ve been waiting for has finally manifested. “And he put us here because my followers will search for me…. followers who want me to continue destroying.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand why I would want to end the world.” He looks at me. “You said something about balance, and I was angry with Jaegen?”

I nod.

“But… you live in this world.”

Again, I nod, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Why would I destroy your world? Did you want me to?”

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