Page 76 of My Lovely Tragedy
“My lovely boy, it is you who will leave me in the end. You have nothing to fear.” His words are soft. Reverent and filled with a veracity that makes me sick.
“You’re wrong,” I correct him, huffing petulantly into the warmth of his torso. Tobias hums, fingers flexing along the base of my spine. Down until his fingertips drag along the curve of my ass. “You’re so fucking wrong.”
“Be that as it may, that is your opinion, darling. But I will respect it if that is what you wish.” His lips brush across my forehead, a warm wisp of air. I stare at the pattern of my blood, rust in color, smeared and dotted. A flake beside a follicle of dark hair. I inhale stale sweat and water. His hand trembles against me, but I don’t ask why.
“You don’t respect any of my wishes,” I tell him and get a huff in return. Almost a snort. Almost human.
“Is that what you think?” he muses softly. His voice melds perfectly with the soft mid-morning sunlight.
“It’s true.”
“In facets.”
I roll my eyes while smiling into him. “Are you going to stop arguing?”
“Now, why would I do that when riling you up is so entertaining?” He dips his head until his chin knocks against the top of my head.
Just as I part my lips to bite back, my stomach revolts in a loud growl, making Tobias hum. “I suppose I should make us breakfast.” But he doesn’t attempt to move.
“It’s probably almost lunch.”
“Most likely.”
“So, lunch,” I mumble. He shakes his head and palms my ass gently, massaging deep into the sore muscle and making me groan, but the act is one of detachment. Almost clinical—like he knows of the ache buried deep in the tissue.
“Lunch it is.”
* * *
“Why do your hands shake?”I ask after dropping my plate in the sink. Tobias’s shoulders stiffen. A microscopic movement that I definitely wouldn’t have noticed a couple weeks ago. But with Tobias, I’ve learned that every reaction—no matter how small—is where the truth lies.
And right now, he’s uncomfortable.
“Just another side effect of my aging, I suppose,” he answers after a moment of contemplation. A moment he had to think of an answer. I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. My chains pull at the bone in my wrists, making me grit my teeth even harder.
“And it took you approximately six seconds to come up with that answer.”
His eyes flash toward me, the briefest flicker of garnet, before they settle back on the dishes in front of him, hands below the water’s surface. “Low blood sugar, then.”
“Try again,” I counter just as quickly. His lips twitch at the corner.
“What answer would you like to hear then, darling?”
“The truth.” I lean back against the counter and cross my legs in front of me. My eyes scour every inch of Tobias’s back. His stained sweater is gone, but he didn’t throw it in the trash as I suspected he would. I saw it in the hamper when I took a piss.
I pulled it out and brought it to my nose, smelling the traces of us sunk into the fibers. Copper and sweat and cinnamon-vanilla. Heady and harrowing.
I clear my throat, shaking my head to disperse the recent memory. Tobias’s shoulders roll as he rinses off a plate and sets it in the metal dish drainer. “Tobias.”
“Yes,corvus?” he replies without turning around.
“Tell me the truth.”
His fingers clamp around the stem of a wine glass. Soap sparkles as it hits the light, refracting off the crystal. Knuckles blanch, tendons bulge. Stark, pulsing veins lick across the backs of his hands.
My gaze narrows.
“And which truth is that? There are oh, so many.” His tone is short and clipped, hot with something I can’t put my finger on.
