22. Phoebe
22
PHOEBE
S urveying the room, I’m left with a mix of emotions. The house is back in order, but there is an air of superficiality to everything. Probably because I know beneath this air of order and semblance of control danger and chaos swirls.
We’re not safe. Vapas is in every bit as much danger as I am now, that much is certain. He might have been able to get away without drawing the wrath of the Maulavi if he’d given me up but he didn’t.
He protected me.
And we haven’t even… my cheeks burn thinking about it. I was so caught up in the moment, swept away by hormones and need. I wasn’t thinking, not that he pushed me, if anything, I pushed him. It was like I became someone else, someone I’ve never been. Owning my own desires and sexuality for the first time in my life.
That was good, in the moment, but now I’m left looking back at it without the fire of passion and I’m wondering who in the hell that woman was? It certainly wasn’t me.
Vapas moves into the living space and takes a seat on the couch. He hunches his shoulders and stares at the floor. I chew my lip, unsure what I should do. Cleaning up the house and putting things right allowed us both to keep things at bay, but now we’re back where we started. What now?
Moving slow, my feet heavy with reluctance or fear, I hesitate before stepping over the imaginary line of the living space. I could sit opposite him on the singular chair, or I could sit at his side on the couch.
The decision carries an incredible weight with it, taking on some insane level of importance in my head. If I sit opposite, I’m sending a message that nothing we just shared is real. That it was a mistake.
If I sit at his side what message am I sending? That I’m in it with him? That I’m willing? I am, aren’t I? But I’ve felt his hesitation. Something holds him back as much as me.
Fuck it. I’m in this. He’s not my past. I’m not who I was either.
I take the seat next to him, close enough that our thighs are touching. He lifts his head, glancing over and giving a half smile.
“A credit for your thoughts,” I say.
He grunts as he turns and looks. Confusion is clear on his face.
“Credit?” he asks.
“Oh, uh, shit,” I curse but that’s in Common and he doesn’t speak that either. I blush and Vapas chuckles. It’s deep, throaty, and genuine. I arch an eyebrow. “Are you laughing at me?”
I’m joking, mostly at least. He shakes his head, still chuckling. He moves his hand and lays it on my leg, close to the knee. I’m acutely aware of the weight and the small part of me that wants him to move that hand higher. Much, much higher.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…” he trails off, inhaling deeply then sighing. “Nothing.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” I say. “Tell me. What is it? You keep coming almost to say something then you back off and don’t say it. What is it?”
The laughter dies, as does the mirth on his face. He doesn’t frown, but there is no hiding the weight that falls across him. His eyes bore into mine as if he’s searching for something, but what, I don’t know.
“Phoebe,” he whispers as his hand tightens on my leg almost convulsively.
“What is it?” I ask, but I’m not sure I want to know anymore. Fear is a soft flutter, like feathers trailing over my skin.
“It is… nothing,” he says, clearing his throat and easing his grip. “I was thinking… we cannot do this alone.”
“Oh,” I say, not able to hide the disappointment in my voice.
He’s retreating, from what I don’t know, but it’s clear to me that’s what’s happening. Seeing it, knowing it, and having nothing I can do about it causes a deep aching in my heart. My breath catches as pressure builds in my eyes. I look away. Feeling him pull back causes uncertainty to batter my thoughts and leaves me feeling insecure.
“I swore to protect you,” he whispers.
Struggling not to cry, even though I’m not sure why, I can’t look at him. Instead, I stare at the kitchen. I rub my temples with my thumb and forefinger, trying to find some relief.
“Yeah…” I say unsure what to do or say.
I thought… I wanted… stupid.
I’m an idiot. I thought he was different, but he isn’t. Not really. He’s a man, driven by his basest needs, ready to take what he wants. He puts a pretty veneer over it and, sure, he tries to control himself, but in the end, it’s all about one thing. A tear breaks free.
“I have heard rumors,” he continues. Forcing the dark thoughts away, I shift so I can look at him again. He continues intensely staring at the floor. “If they are true… the risk will be great. But…”
I wait, hanging onto his last word, but he doesn’t continue. He’s so tense that it’s rolling off of him in waves. If nothing else it pushes away the dark thoughts and brings me into the moment.
Yeah Phoebs, don’t forget you’re in mortal danger. Literally, not figuratively.
“What are the rumors?” I ask.
My throat is so dry that it’s hard to get the words out. I work my mouth, trying to force moisture into it, but it seems to be in vain. My throat is dry and scratchy. Instead of waiting for him to answer, I stand up and go into the kitchen. I feel his eyes on me, curious and maybe more?
“Go ahead,” I call from the kitchen.
I retrieve two mugs and the jug of alcohol. There aren’t a lot of choices of drink. We may be underground, but water is still precious on Tajss and not something that even the Urr’ki or Cavern Zmaj use for regular drinking. I gather my finds up and carry them into the living space, setting them on the small table.
Vapas watches as I remove the cork and pour two fingers into each mug. I replace the cork and set the bottle down. When I go to take up my mug, he hasn’t moved, he’s just sitting and staring at the mugs.
“What?” I ask.
He frowns, his brow furrowing. When he does that his tusks rub against the skin of his cheeks, pulling in towards his nose. Why I notice this I have no idea nor do I get why it’s cute and attractive.
Maybe, thanks to all the stress, I’ve lost my mind. I chuckle and Vapas darts a glance over, his frown coloring with worry. He looks from the mugs to me again and then silently takes his. He swirls the liquid then tosses the entire drink back at once. He smacks his lips before pouring a second.
“Thank you,” he says.
“The rumors?” I prod.
His frown is back in an instant. He swirls the mug, staring into it, before looking back.
“An underground… resistance I think it would be called.”
“Oh?” I ask, leaning closer.
He blinks rapidly and his breath speeds up, cluing me into what I just did. I hadn’t thought about it but it now I am acutely aware of him. His presence, his scent, his closeness.
“Yes…” he says trailing off, his eyes boring into mine.
My body is reacting to him, hard. Skin tingling, heart and breath speeding up. My mouth is so dry. I lean back and take a sip but it burns so bad going down that I choke on it. At least this time I don’t spray him, but it forces me to turn my head and break the intensity of this moment.
“So—rr—ry,” I get out, holding up a finger between us.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, coughing a couple more times before getting myself under control. “Fine. Sorry.”
He smiles, shaking his head. His mouth opens but then something crosses his face and he closes it. He closes his eyes. I resist, with all that I am, the urge to lean in and kiss him.
Stupid. Too stupid to live for all that’s holy. What am I thinking? We’re both in extreme danger and that is what I should be focused on. Not how the light of the candles casts beautiful shadows on his deep green skin. The way his muscles bunch and flex with even the slightest of movements. The exotic scent he exudes, almost a sandalwood, but not quite. A little more earthy, but still pleasant.
“You are sure?” he asks and I can’t speak because my throat is clenching tight as I fight desire, so I nod. He grimaces and watches my face as if trying to be sure himself before continuing. “The resistance is a rumor. I’ve heard of them but I do not know if it is real or not.”
“How would you find out?”
He shakes his head growling.
“It would be dangerous,” he says. “I’ll have to ask but if I ask the wrong person, I’ll be reported to the Maulavi. If that happens…”
He trails off and there is no need for him to finish the thought. We both know the results of that without having to put that horror into words.
“Do we have a choice?” I whisper.
“If there is one, I don’t know what it is.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding. “Well. When your back’s against the wall and all.”
“What wall?” he asks.
“Oh,” I hesitate, having to take a moment to wrap my head around him not knowing the idiom. Of course he doesn’t. It’s not a Zmaj phrase nor an Urr’ki one. “It, uhm, means, you know if you don’t have any choice. You are pushed into a corner and have to fight your way out.”
He nods. “Very wise. Back against the wall. This is very true.”
The way he says it, his manner and attitude, make it seem much deeper and wiser than I had ever given it credit for and it makes my chest swell with emotions too big to be contained.
He smiles and I could almost swear that my heart tries to leap out of my chest and into his hands. It’s all too much to wrap my head around. These feelings, the way he makes my heart speed up, everything. What is happening?
“Uh,” I say, but then I have nothing to follow it up with.
Almost, I said something I’m nowhere near ready to say but I caught it just in time. It was right there on the tip of my tongue. Ready to burst into the world in a flaming blaze of glory.
“I do not want to take you with me,” he says.
“Vapas, I?—”
“Wait, please,” he says, holding up his hand to cut me off. “But, I also do not want to leave you here alone. If the Maulavi were to return…”
“Yes,” I agree instantly without letting him finish the thought.
“Good, you will come with me, but,” he holds up one finger, “You must agree.”
“Agree?”
“Yes, agree. This is too dangerous. You must listen to what I say and obey without question or hesitation. No matter what.”
My heart is in my throat. My thoughts do some kind of weird dual vision split between fear of the danger and desire for him to take control of me and make me obey his every whim and desire.
I can’t speak around the lump. Trembling, I nod my agreement.
I am his. Good or bad, this is happening.