Page 95 of An Unexpected Ascension
Exhaustion suddenly weighs on me as if my body was awaiting his permission to finally rest. Slowly, I undress and crawl in beside him as he extinguishes the light from the lantern. Cast in blinding darkness, I roll to my side, meeting his eyes.
“Will you use me as I used you the other night?”
Secretly, I want him to. I want the hurt to ease my conscience of what I’ve done to him. To take ownership of his loss on behalf of my ascendants. To be the release he needs. “No.” His tone was curt, the answer final.
“Why not? I wouldn’t blame you. I think I deserve it.”
He sighs. “Be that as it may, I will not hit you just to ease your guilt for the wounds you’ve inflicted upon me. I will not hit you ever, so do not ask.”
I prop myself up on my elbow.
“But you hate me. My family murdered your sister.”
“Briar!” he growls, the bite in his tone stills my heart. “Enough! I didn’t show you all that to beguile you with guilt, now go the fuck to bed.”
He slams himself down onto the mattress, rolling away from me. The act feels so much worse than if he were to hit me like I asked. It’s wrong of me to use this history between my ancestors and him as an excuse to rile him up, but the guilt I feel for the bruises that mar his face is too much to admit. I’d much rather take the pain I’ve begged of him because that pain he spoke of, it is so much worse when it’s in the heart.
The entire night is sieged by nightmares, one bleeding into the next. Horrors that I can’t decide whether they’re real or fake, my imagination or memory.
What I do know is that when I wake, I wake entangled in the arms of a demon who despises me. His bourbon and firewood scent bombarding me in the early morning like a mouthwatering call for breakfast.
Though my muscles tense at the realization of who’s arms I am trapped in, I will myself to calm. I want so badly to hate him, to hate that he feels he owns me because he simply hasn’t eradicated me yet, to hate that he doesn’t truly hate me despite what my family has done to him.
Yet, I find that I like this moment. The ruby sun basks our shelter in its yawning heat before it can gather its strength and there’s a silence to the forest that’s peaceful. If I close my eyes again, I might pretend that this isn’t Hell and Hermes isn’t a demon.
“I know you’re awake,” said demon murmurs in my ear.
And there goes that peace.
“Then why are you still touching me?”
“Because I know how much you want to hate it,” he taunts as if reading my mind, but then he sighs. “You cry in your sleep. It was keeping me up, and the last thing I want is to listen to itandthe forest whispering nonsense until dawn.”
I sit up and the arm draped across my chest falls to my lap.Dragging my palm down the center of my face, I wipe away at the sweat and dried tears. I hadn’t realized I was crying. I just barely remember the pounding of my heart at the terror ripping through my dreams.
“Sorry.”
His mouth curls down at my apology, but he quickly fixes it before I can catch it. I do anyway which has him compensating with a smirk, drawing forth that blasé swagger he perpetually wears.
“Who’s Bean?”
My brows pinch together. “I-I don’t know?”
He chuckles. “It’s going to be okay, Bean.”
A cloud fogs my brain, the memory just barely visible past the obstruction. I rub at my temples, my head spinning from thinking too hard.
“It’s not ringing a bell.”
“Well, it wasn’t until I was holding you like a damn baby did those quivering lips and shuddering breaths ease. Do you like it when I hold you, Angel?”
I groan. “It’s too early for your teasing. Can we get moving?”
Before I can drop my feet from the bed and to the floor, the demon’s arm wraps around my thighs, dragging me to him. A girlish squeal escapes me, reddening my face with embarrassment.
Hermes quirks a brow in amusement as he yanks me down to the mattress and crawls on top of me. My eyes trail over the swirls and patterns cemented in black ink along his skin. Starting from his neck and down to his chest. Every inch of him, covered.
He seems to have slept off that foul mood from last night as if he never revealed his motives for damning my soul to Hell. As if he never shared his worst memory with the descendent of his sister’s killer.
