Page 106 of Broken Souls
“Where is she going to stay?” I snap, still wanting to fight. “She isn’t sharing a room with him.”
“Here.”
“This is my room.”
“Your room’s upstairs.”
My jaw clenches. “That’s your –”
“It’s our room, Micha, and you fucking know it.”
“No one else does!” I snap before I can even think the words.
His eyes narrow in speculation. “Is that what you need from me? To tell everyone you’re mine?”
“No.”Yes. No. Fuck. I don’t know.“I’m not yours,” I say bitterly. “I cut it off, remember?”
“How could I forget?” he growls. “Your patch’s sitting on my bedside table.” Pickled and in a glass container.
I shift uncomfortably, my skin feeling too hot. I didn’t expect him to keep it. Didn’t expect him to be so fucking obsessed and hurt by what I’d done. But I needed to do it, and I would do it again in this moment. Giving Varius any sort of control over me right now is a bad thing; then it’d be way too easy to give in to my desire to forgive him. To go back to what we were. To when I loved him and thought he might even love me. To when I found comfort in his arms rather than pain – a comfort I crave.
But I can’t go back to that.
That time, thatpersondoesn’t exist anymore.
So I take another step back – a physical distance on top of the emotional.
“When’s she supposed to arrive?” I push out.
“In a couple days.”
Excitement and happiness war with the annoyance in my chest. I haven’t seen my sister in over four months. When I went back home three weeks ago, she was out camping with friends, so I missed her. I chew the inside of my bottom lip for a moment before begrudgingly saying, “Fine.”
“Good. Shall we go upstairs now?”
I don’t answer him as I fall back into my state of silence. Now that my sister is safe, I have no desire to talk to him. I feel empty. Hollow.
Pain and panic flash across his eyes. “Micha, please don’t shut me out again,” he begs.
But I’m not shutting him out.
“Just talk to me.”
I’m shutting me in. I need the space he’s refusing to give me.
He stares at me, willing me to speak, but when I don’t for several minutes, he closes his eyes briefly. Then he steps forward, kisses me on the forehead, and picks me up in his arms. I don’t fight him as he carries me up to his room. I don’t move at all.
But gods do I want to.
Because with my head against his chest, I can still smell that fuckingbitch.
Thirty-Six
HIM
As soon as I step from the shower, my phone rings. It’s sitting on the sink, and I grab a towel to rub over my head before glancing at it. Seeing it’s Aleric, I answer it as I continue to dry my hair.
“What is it?” I ask.
