Chapter 13
Ulysses
When I woke up, in an unfamiliar room with no memory of how I got there, I should’ve panicked.
I mean, that would’ve been the sane reaction.
Especially considering the ache compressing my torso with each breath, the sheet beneath me stiff with dried blood.
But with Rue’s aroma wrapped around me, soothing any fears I might’ve had like aloe on a sunburn, I could barely manage to work myself up to mild confusion.
I rolled over, wincing at the sharp bite of pain, but it became secondary as I found Rue in bed beside me.
With a foot separating us, he lay on his side facing me, his hand extended into the space between us as though reaching for me in his sleep.
He looked so peaceful like this, with the morning sun limning his face in gold, lashes dusting his freckled cheeks.
I couldn’t resist reaching out to run a finger down the bridge of his nose.
Was it his nose? Or was it a slight adaptation, narrower or shorter than it had been at birth.
He’d said this was his true body, but had he accented his hair with red and gold?
Made his eyes a more vibrant green? The nightmarish creature he’d become last night had certainly not been his real body, but he’d saved me all the same.
In the end… did it matter if any or all of this body was not his own? My being attracted to him had nothing to do with his hair or his eyes. As a sin-eater, I knew better than most that it was what was inside that mattered most. And his insides were pretty spectacular.
I brushed the silky hair from his forehead, revealing a narrow scar he’d chosen not to smooth over as well, but when I went to tuck the hair behind his ear, Rue’s hand snapped up, his grip like iron around my wrist. “Uly,” he gasped, eyes flaring wide as he grappled with the morning reality, much like I had.
I could see the memories of last night returning like a rolling storm across his eyes.
But slowly, he loosened his grip on me and brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly.
The brush of his lips sent tingles coursing up my arm and made my chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with my injuries.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the reaction he was invoking in me. “Do you have any pain? The doctor left pills.” His expression was tight, his eyes roving over every inch of my body as though expecting more injuries to have appeared overnight.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, confused by the change in his mood.
Not long ago, we’d been toeing the line of civility, uneasy coworkers and nothing more.
Sure, we’d shared that kiss, but I figured he’d chalked it up to one massive mistake, never to be repeated.
I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Just a few scratches, nothing life-threatening. ”
His eyes flashed, the only warning I got before he slid across the mattress, closing the gap between us, my hand still held in his.
My breath snagged in my throat as the heat coming off him seemed to intensify, making me start to sweat.
“You’re fine? Those stitches say otherwise.
You might just as easily have died. I was terrified, sin-eater, because I just found you, and I’m not through with you yet, not by half.
” The way he called me sin-eater was no longer filled with scorn or suspicion.
It was almost like a term of endearment, filled with playful tenderness.
Rue was not a small man, certainly large enough to loom as he leaned over me and took my jaw in his hand, tilting it just so, but his touch was infinitely gentle as he kissed me.
It wasn’t anything like last time, which had been dangerous and desperate, borderline violent.
No, this was barely more than a brush of our lips, a hint of a kiss.
It was intentional, in daylight hours, with no nightmares to blame.
I opened my mouth to lure him in, teasing my tongue across his lower lip, the barest trace of his flavor in my mouth like an appetizer, but instead of accepting my invitation, he broke the kiss with a sigh.
And when I leaned forward to follow him, he stilled me with a hand to my chest. I opened my eyes to see why he’d stopped when things were just getting good, but the expression on his face was one of regret.
“Why’d you stop?” I asked. I expected him to blame my injuries, no doubt being all noble, when I couldn’t give a shit about my damn cracked ribs. There was another, more important growing ache he could fix by touching me right now—harder and repeatedly.
For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, but then he blurted, “I love you.” He winced as though in physical pain after that profession. “Sorry, I should’ve eased into that.”
My first instinct had me eyeing the door and windows, ready to make a fast exit.
Love was just a construct, used to manipulate someone into getting what they wanted, but Rue must have anticipated my move, because he gripped my hip to keep me in place.
I could only imagine the look of stark fear on my face as I shook my head vigorously.
“Y-you… what? No, you don’t love me. What about your hot friend Mal? ”
I shook my head. “I don’t love Mal. I love you.”
“It’s too soon for that. You don’t even know me, you barely tolerate me! You’re probably just horny. It’s okay, easy to mix those two up. It happens to the best of us. You can take it back, and we’ll pretend it never happened.”
“I’m not taking it back.” He could’ve been offended by my reaction, but he seemed to accept it as inevitable. “Why does that scare you?” he asked gently.
“Um, because it’s scary? Obviously.” I mean, duh. “We’ve known each other for like a week, and in that time, you’ve stalked me, forced your way into my home, kissed me, choked me—” I brought my hand up and counted each one off on my fingers.
He cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes on me. “Do you really want to discuss who kissed or choked whom?”
I refused to acknowledge my part in any of this, even as my skin heated at the memory of being pinned beneath his solid weight. The heated look in his eyes told me he was currently reliving the very same memory. “Ruadan,” I said with a hint of warning.
“Ulysses,” he said back, mocking me with that same tone of voice.
Sighing, I tried one more time to wiggle away, but he was having none of it. I would have no choice but to face this whole regretful situation face-on. “Look, Rue, I’m sorry but—”
“Stop. There’s no pressure here. You don’t have to say it back—you don’t even have to feel it back. There are no expectations tied to my love, no limitations or clauses. It just is. I see you, Uly. Let me see you.”
I relaxed a fraction at those words, entirely against my instincts.
In my experience, nothing good had come from the words “I love you.” Only lies, betrayal, and heartbreak.
And that included from my own flesh and blood.
And though I had no blood relatives left on this earth, hadn’t seen my parents since they evicted me from my own home after my first accidental purging at the age of 12, that kind of betrayal lingered, far longer than any amount of therapy could erase.
Rue loosened his grip on me a fraction, trying to trust me not to bolt, then he coasted his fingers up my side, and I suddenly became very aware that I wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Goosebumps paraded across my skin, nipples peaking, and his eyes zeroed in on them, missing nothing.
He knew full well I wasn’t as unaffected as I pretended to be.
“I’ve lived a long life, sin-eater,” he said, his gaze hazy, focused on a time long past. “In all that time, I’ve been fortunate enough to have loved—and lost—so many.
But I’ve also learned regret the hard way, with lost chances I will never get back, and for a second last night, I thought you were going to die.
So, I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I refuse to restrain my feelings now, just when I’ve finally accepted them for what they are.
Love is not a weakness, and it is not some treasure to be hoarded, to be guarded and doled out in minute servings when you deem someone worthy enough, always worried that it will run out.
It is a bottomless well, an infinite gift, and in sharing it, it can only grow.
And so,” he said firmly, cradling my face between his palms and kissing me sweetly, once, twice.
“I love you. And don’t you dare tell me not to, because I’m older and wiser and I know what I’m talking about. ”
I wasn’t sure when my vision had gone watery, but when I blinked, it sent tears dripping down my cheek to be soaked into my pillow. “Okay,” I whispered, one of the cracks in my splintered heart healing over.
“Okay?” Rue confirmed, his own eyes frosted with a liquid shine.
I nodded, then quickly sniffed, trying to reel back my emotions and regain some sort of footing. I refused to be left so vulnerable, lying here in Rue’s bed. “Does that mean we can have sex now?” I asked hopefully.
“No, your ribs are broken,” he said without missing a beat. Ah, there it is, the noble act. He kissed me once more with far too much care for my liking.
Not one to give up, I tried, “You know, I’ve heard blowjobs can help with the healing process…”
His laughter was a delicious rich sound. “Tonight,” he promised. “But only if you’re a good boy and let me baby you a little.” And then the bastard teased at the hard-on tightening my pants, and damn him, in that moment, I would’ve promised him the world.
“Fine,” I agreed. I could survive one day with a boner. Right?