Page 111 of Fallen Gods
Chapter Fifty-Five
Aric
I know it’s Rey before the third knock. Is she seriously doing this tonight? She has to be exhausted after today.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little happy to see her, though. I yank the door open.
Same routine as last night: she slips in barefoot, clutching her chipped mug like it’s sacred; fills it at my sink; drinks it like my water’s somehow different from hers. Then she wanders straight to my bed, pats the spot beside her—like I need the reminder—and stretches out as if she owns the place.
I should leave. Go crash on her floor. Anywhere but here.
But temptation sits there staring me down, unapologetic and undeniable.
It means nothing. It means nothing. I keep lying to myself even as I give in, crawl in beside her, and pull her against me.
Because when I say nothing, I mean everything.
She means everything.
I can’t explain it, and part of me’s afraid that it’s just the runes or the monster inside me that wants her—not me. Or maybe it’s the situation. I’m not sure.
For now, I’ll hold her because I can, and in the morning, I’ll push her away because I should.
She nuzzles into my neck, soft and warm, and I bite back the groan that claws its way up my throat.
“You’re more tolerable when you don’t talk,” I rasp, trying to keep the walls up.
Her lips brush my neck. Oh shit. Not expecting that. My body jolts like she just lit a fuse. I force myself to stay still, to breathe, but then her hands slide over my back—slow, searching—untilthey slip under my shirt.
Her palms press against the runes.
The constant burn beneath my skin—it quiets. It just…rests. Her touch anchors me, drags me under, and I realize how bone-deep tired I really am.
My eyes fall shut before I can stop them.
Sleep swallows me whole.
And that’s how it goes for the next two nights.
I wedge a shoe in my door so she doesn’t even have to knock. I keep the covers open like a coward, waiting for something I’ll never admit I want. I lie there in giddy anticipation like I’m a tween again, listening for the soft pad of her steps down the hall.
And she always comes.
In the morning, we play it off. Pretend she wasn’t asleep in the arms of her enemy. Pretend it’s just some strange quirk of hers that I tolerate. Pretend so fucking well, it almost feels like our new normal.
Pretend this is okay.
Pretend we aren’t losing ourselves to each other.
Maybe pretending is just like hoping—no matter how many times you do it, the end is still the same. Disappointment when reality kicks in.
But for now? The high is worth the fall.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Aric
“So the party’s tonight,” Rey says, staring at me in the reflection of the mirror as we brush our teeth.
