Page 160 of Seer Prophet

“You’re hopeless,” I said, wiping my face.

He gave a side head tilt, another version of the seer’s shrug. “You can push me around a little, if you want.”

I gave him a half-joking glare. “You might want to be careful what you offer to me right now, husband.”

He clicked at me, smiling. That time, it touched his eyes.

“Promises, promises,” he chided. “All bark and no bite.”

For some reason, that brought a real burst of anger out of me.

Maybe because it hit too close to the bone right then.

Or maybe I finally understood what lived below my needing to hold things together, whether to “manage” my more volatile spouse or for some other bullshit reason. I was afraid I wasn’t cut out to lead these people.

I was afraid everything worked better when Revik was in charge.

In any case, heat flooded myaleimiwithout warning.

That time, I shoved him harder, using my light.

He stumbled back more than a few feet. When he recovered his balance that time, he was panting. He didn’t look angry, though. Cautious, maybe, but not angry.

If anything, I saw interest on his face.

“Are you mad?” he asked, after a pause. His eyes continued to measure mine. I felt him skirt cautiously around my light. “Because we probably shouldn’t do this, if you’re really angry at me.”

I thought about that, too, and I agreed with him.

But was I mad? Was that really what was going on here? Frustrated, yeah. But mad? At him? Truthfully, I still felt about ten steps behind him half the time. I felt like no matter how rationally I tried to approach anything––leading the group, running ops, infiltration––he still knew more than me. He still approached things from a clearer space, even when he was upset.

I still felt like I lost every argument, even when he conceded defeat.

Maybe pushing him around in here was all I had.

He laughed.

I glared at him, and he laughed again.

“Gaos,you are full of shit,” he said, smiling. “But if you want to punish me for it, I already gave you permission, wife. Hell, I asked you for it.”

He watched me, still smiling. I felt that heat snake back through his light. Some part of me felt as much frustrated by that heat as amused.

When I looked up that time, his eyes had changed again.

“Please,” he said.

I stared at him, feeling my separation pain worsen. I knew what he wanted, but some part of my mind, maybe a less rational part of myself than my mind, continued to fight it. He’d already asked me for it once, which meant he wanted it pretty badly, likely for the reasons he’d given me that morning.

Meaning, he wanted to open to me.

He thought if I did this, he’d open.

He wanted me to push him to some edge he knew better than I did, some edge that made it easier for him to let go.

I knew my reluctance was mostly fear.

My mind contained enough of that irritating detachment for me to see the fear clearly, but not enough to be able to do anything about it.

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