Page 18 of Aries

Her sharp intake of breath is the only indication she heard me. After a moment, she admits, “I’m afraid of not being wanted.”

The confession hits like a physical blow. Pictures flash through my mind of what we shared in that cell. Her naked skin illuminated red from the glow of the exit lights, the forced copulation that became something I yearned for all day, the scent of her, the taste…

“Callie—”

“In that cell,” she continues quietly, “before you withdrew completely… I thought maybe we had something real. Something that transcended the horrible circumstances. Then you just… disappeared behind those walls you erected. Harder than stone. And I’ve spent five years wondering what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t…” My throat tightens. “It wasn’t you. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Fromwhat?”

“Fromme.” The words scratch out, painful and true. “I am not…” I shake my head, gritting my teeth so tightly I fear they’ll crack. But I have to say it.

“I am not falsely accused. You didn’t sacrifice your freedom for an innocent man. I’ma…”

I have never said it out loud. Ever. I can go months at a time without even thinking the word. But not now.

“I’m akiller, Callie. I was protecting you from developing feelings for akiller. You deserved better than being forced to mate with someone like that.” And now here we are, bound together in this unbearable situation in this fucking tiny cottage, sleeping in the same narrow fucking bed.

Her silence feels weighted with understanding. “So you withdrew. Made yourself cold and distant so I wouldn’t…”

“So you wouldn’t feel obligated. Wouldn’t try to make something real out of a situation that was forced upon us both.”

“And now?” She shifts slightly, her shoulders brushing mine. “Are you still trying to protect me?”

The question hangs in the air between us. “I am trying to protect us both,” I admit finally. “Because in seventy-six days, this ends. And I cannot… I cannot let myself hope for more than that.”

“What if I want more?”

Though she said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear her, my body vibrates with the weight of her words. It’s all I can do to keep from breaking the rules, turning around, gripping her shoulders, and peering into her eyes to read the truth of her emotions.

“Callie…” Her name is torn from my throat as if by a grappling hook.

She can’t possibly know what she’s saying, but I dare not say that. I’ve been around these human women for long enough to know she’d happily put a knife to my throat for suggesting she doesn’t know her own mind.

“Listen.” She turns slightly, though the ritual position prevents us from seeing each other’s faces. “I know you think you’re protecting me, but what if you’re just hurting us both?What if these trials are giving us a chance to fix what broke in that cell?”

“And if we fail?”

“Then we fail knowing we tried for somethingreal.” Her voice softens. “Isn’t that better than spending the next two and a half months pretending we don’t feel anything?”

The truth ritual compels honesty, even when it terrifies me. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive losing you twice.”

Her hand finds mine where it rests on the floor between us. She avoids contact, but the space between our fingers is as slim as a piece of paper. The almost-contact sends awareness shooting up my arm. “Then don’t lose me. Let me in instead of pushing me away.”

The Committee member manifests before I can respond. “Resolution achieved,” they announce. “You may separate.”

We turn to face each other, both a little raw from the revelations. The tiny space between us feels charged with possibility and fear.

“So,” she says softly, “what now?”

“Now…” Looking at her in the fading daylight, something shifts in my chest. “Now we try for something real. Whatever that means.”

Her smile is like a sunrise after a storm. “Whatever that means,” she agrees.

The Committee member fades away, leaving us with new understanding and even more dangerous hope. For the first time, I wonder if the Committee has been rooting for us all along, despite their neutral façade.

The rules about physical contact still apply—we can’t act on this fragile new honesty with touch. But somehow thatmakes it more powerful, this conscious choice to be emotionally intimate while maintaining physical distance.

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