Page 88 of Once a Villain
Couldthe timeline even fluctuate anymore, now that it was locked?
Whatever the case, Aaron was right. If Eleanor wanted them, she’d have them.
Joan reached up thoughtlessly and pushed Aaron’s hair from his eyes. It was so strange to be able to do that; Aaron had always seemed so untouchable. He didn’t right now, though. There was a line on his cheek from the edge of the pillow, and his hair and shirt were rumpled. They’d unbuttoned his shirt, Joan realized, but hadn’t taken it off.
She frowned. A smear of red marred the white cotton of his collar. “Are you bleeding?” She sat up. “Aaron, is thatblood?” Panic rushed through her, an echo of how she’d felt watching Nick fall. “Are youhurt?”
“What?” He looked down at himself, surprised. He hadn’t seen the marks. “No... I think it’s clay,” he said. He touched her forearm.
Joan stared down at herself, bewildered. There were faint red streaks on her arms. It was from earlier in the day, she realized. From when she’d tried to unmake the brick wall. She’d washed her hands since, but had missed some of the marks on her arms.
“Hey,” Aaron whispered. He sat up and guided Joan out of bed—leaning over to sweep a silk robe with a mermaid motif from the armchair. He settled it around Joan’s shoulders, and they went into the fancy bathroom en suite.
He turned on the water in the sink, warming it, and ran his hands over her arms with soap. “See?” he said as the water ran red and then clear. “No one’s bleeding. Not you or me.”
Joan felt a strange wave of déjà vu. She’d washed Gran’s blood from her hands like this after the massacre at Holland House. Aaron had been in the bedroom—that was the night she’d met him.
His gray eyes met hers in the mirror. She seemed pale in the cold bathroom light, and her own eyes were red-rimmed. “I keep losing people,” she heard herself say. Her family in the massacre. Nick. Aaron, when she’d changed the timeline last time.
“You haven’t lost me. I’m here,” he murmured.
“Aaron—”
“I love you,” he said.
Joan heard her breath catch. He’d said that when he’d been inside her, but so softly she’d thought he hadn’t intended to. This time, there was a hint of misery in his expression that made her chest clench painfully. He didn’t think she felt the same about him.
Shedid, though. The events of the day had torn open her heart; had shown her the truth of what had been inside her for so long. “I love you,” she whispered.
His gaze was steady on hers, but Joan could tell he didn’t believe her.It’ll always be him for you, he’d told her the night that she and Nick had almost kissed. Even standing here with her, Aaron believed he’d always come second in her heart.
Joan’s chest spasmed again, and she closed her eyes. She felt Aaron’s hand cover hers. He pressed their hands firmly against her breastbone, and something eased slightly inside her. “You do this sometimes,” he whispered. “When you’re feeling anxious. You press here.”
Joan blinked up at him. How had he noticed? She’d barely known that about herself.
Aaron dropped a kiss to her temple. “The Court Guards still aren’t here.”
“Maybe you were right,” Joan said. “Maybe they’re not coming at all.” Maybe Eleanor really was going to make them live here.
For the first time, Joan tried to picture a future in this world. Would she live here in this house, with Aaron? Would she ever be able to safely walk the streets without a monster chaperone?
And what about Aaron? His counterpart had had a reputation as the cruel ruler of Oliver territory. Would Aaron try to maintain his counterpart’s pretense so that they could survive here? Joan shivered. She knew him; that would break him. Exactly the kind of psychological punishment that Eleanor liked to dole out....
“It’s getting colder,” Aaron said. “I’ll warm the room.”
Joan didn’t feel the chill, though, until he left. She tried to counter it with a quick hot shower, scrubbing off the last of the clay, the last of this horrendous day.
When she came back out, wrapped in a towel, Aaron had drawn the curtains. He’d hung up his suit and Joan’s dress, and he was straightening up the room.
Aaron looked a little sheepish when he saw Joan watching. “Just habit,” he said. “I’m not used to having a cleaning service.” He seemed to realize that that might sound strange in a house like this. “It’s hard to explain.”
There was nothing to explain. “I saw your room in the last timeline,” Joan admitted. “Near the kitchen. Where he put you.”
Aaron went still. Joan saw it cross his mind to say she’d gotten it wrong; to say something cutting. That would have been his usual reaction. Instead, he said, “I suppose in one way, thistimeline is better than the last.Heisn’t here.”
He went over to stoke the fire, his back to her. Joan swayed toward him, wanting to touch him. She didn’t have to push away that feeling, she remembered. She went over to him and put her arms around him. He tucked her close, turning her slightly so that the fire wouldn’t be too hot on her bare skin.
He said haltingly, “I know this timeline has its advantages for me. Monsters reign over humans. And I rule over Oliver territory, with my father exiled. But... I’d never want you in a place like this.Idon’t want to be in a place like this.”
