Page 88 of Obsession

I almost laugh. “No. No, I didn’t.”

His brows push together, forehead scrunching. “I did it against your will? You said that we were close.” Aris shakes his head again. “For years, I lived in your head. How could I not have gotten attached?”

“I think you did,” I say carefully, “but that some things mattered more.”

He lets out an unsatisfied grunt, then continues his summary, “The only way to stop me was to remove my memory, through one of Jaegen’s spells.”

I study his expression, waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for his anger to rise, his hold to become restrictive, emotion displacing control. Waiting for his fingers to begin a new stroke of my hair, only to dig into my skull and pull out brains.

But though Aris’ lips are downturned, his voice stays gentle. “Why did you not tell me before?” he asks.

“I thought it might make you remember, or that you’d want to continue your conquest,” I say, and he rolls his eyes, as though this sentiment is ridiculous and warrants no response. I almost smile.

"I shouldn't have kept the truth from you,” I admit. “I was a bad friend."

He looks at me, then quickly away. "You said that we weren't friends, before."

"We were…" I take a breath, shaky from uncertainty.

Oh, God, what were we? What are we?

Aris watches me closely. “Jaegen came because he thought that I might attempt to leave,” he says.

Once again, I nod, the movement jerky, relieved that he’s changed the subject.

He is quiet, fingers moving from my hair to the small of my ear, rubbing it. His legs are intertwined with my own, the bases of our ankles rubbing against the others’; now that I’ve given him permission to touch me, he seems unable to stop.

“A god of chaos,” he murmurs, “subdued by the human he wanted to rule. What an intriguing finale to our story, wouldn’t you say?”

I go to sit up, though Aris resists for a moment before relenting. Our knees touch in this new position, which keeps his breathing slow and expression soft. “Aren’t you angry?” I ask.

His brows raise. “Are you serious? I was cruel to you. Do you not hate me?”

The admission that he was horrible does something; I can’t tell if my heart is fracturing or healing. I feel vindicated. Heard.

Without thinking, I take his cold hands in my own, both of us watching our fingers lace together. When I look back up, he’s still staring at our hands, brows pushed together.

“The truth is dangerous,” I warn him again.

Aris meets my gaze. “Tell me.”

“That form of you, who you were before… I hate him. He enjoyed hurting people, and he enjoyed toying with me.” I nod at my necklace, and Aris follows my gaze. “This was like a collar, proof of ownership.”

He lets go of one of my hands, reaching for the hexagonal pendant, stroking a finger over the black stone. “I hate him, too,” Aris murmurs before letting it drop and returning to hold my hand again.

Relief washes over me. I hadn’t known I was waiting for those words until he said them—not just said them, but meant them.

His grip on me is careful, but his eyes are searing when he asks, “And the boy, the one you told me about. Would you go back to him, if you could?”

“Henry?” I am surprised by the mention.

Aris nods jerkily.

“He was a pawn, just like me,” I say after a moment, realizing with delight that I haven’t thought about him for some time now. “He never loved me.”

“But I made you think that he did.”

“I never knew what was real. Some things, I still wonder about.” I look at our interlocked hands. “Like this. This is exactly the type of game you would play. Maybe you haven’t lost your memory at all and this is some long con.”

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