Chapter 14 #3
He shook his head. “That is not precisely equivalent. If I love a person like I love a book, it transcends a pristine object on a shelf—it entails exploring every facet, including the difficult and flawed ones—and upon my reading, she’s comprehended by another; one who attains a deeper understanding than she possesses of herself.
What constitutes love if not the acceptance of an individual’s imperfections?
Ultimately, she is not harmed, but rather vulnerable.
” He squinted as his hands found their way into his pockets, searching for something in my expression.
“Perhaps the reason for your potential difficulty in processing my words may stem from an absence of personal experience with vulnerability. It is possible that you are a reader who enjoys being inquisitive about the lives of others because you are not yet prepared to acknowledge your own.”
I reeled from his words, each one a fresh wound, as if a knife had been plunged into my chest. I stumbled backward, taking a few shaky steps, opening my mouth to contradict him, but no words came out.
“My intention was not to offend you, mortal. Do not interpret it that way.” His eyebrows lowered on his eyes, his footsteps inching closer to me. He reached out a hand to touch my shoulder, but I moved away, disgusted by the thought of his touch.
“Then what exactly did you intend?” I asked through gritted teeth, my tone bitter.
I didn’t anticipate my temper, but his words struck a chord, pulling a hidden part of me out into the open. Even though deep down I knew he was telling the truth, a part of me fought against believing it.
He lifted his brows. “It was a mere observation.”
If anything, his excuse only exacerbated my rising anger.
“You don’t know anything about me.” I shoved the book back at him, my fingers trembling and then forming fists.
“You act like you know everything because you are a god, but you don’t.
How could you know how poverty feels like when you have a house so big—which still doesn’t fit your enormous ego—just because you can?
I dare you to live a day in our world and watch how you crumble in despair without all of your privileges,” I said, and the words clawed at each other, tumbling out in a flurry.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my vision blurring.
I wanted to get out; I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t because of Zeus and his stupid plan.
Clenching my fists, I pressed my nails into my palms, anticipating the crescent-shaped marks that would still be there later while I muffled a frustrated scream.
I swallowed the tears that threatened to spill and tried to maintain composure, refusing to cry in front of a stranger. What was wrong with me, acting out like that? I had never experienced such a loss of control, where my nerves and words betrayed me.
Calm down. I had to calm down.
Remember why you came here. Don’t blow your cover. Don’t let them know you’re aware of their plans.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out with a shaky sigh, hoping to feel more composed when I opened them. When I peeled my eyes open, he was rooted to the spot, a contorted expression on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, my words trembling.
Throughout my outburst, I was never worried he’d physically hurt me if I pushed him too far, which was unsettling. He was a god. I should be afraid. I should be more cautious about what I do and be more careful with what I say.
The God of Love nodded. “May I?” He pointed at my palms, a wary look on his face as he placed the book on one of the shelves.
Instead of offering a reply, I extended my arms toward him, the heels of my hands facing the wooden ground. He examined them with a quick look, noticing the thin trails of blood smeared across my palms.
“Is this a normal occurrence?”
I shook my head. “Only when a god pisses me off.”
He let out a low chuckle, pressing his palms against mine like a caress. I’ve never felt skin so soft before. When he took them away, my wounds were gone.
“There. Allow me to clean the bloodstains, and then you can rest.”
Without protesting, I followed him into the bathroom. I debated asking why he didn’t use his magic instead, but I held my tongue and let him do it.
He turned the faucet on, placing my palms underneath the jet of the water before he dragged a cloth over my skin, erasing any evidence of the blood. His brows were drawn together, and his movements were gentle, almost a caress.
When he was done, I moved to grab a towel to dry myself, but he was faster than me, enveloping my palms in the soft material and dabbing until they were no longer wet.
“Would you consider staying overnight? Given the late hour, it would be better to rest instead of traveling. You’ll be thankful for this later.”
A faint smile graced my lips as I silently nodded, pretending as if the offer was the best thing that had ever happened to me.