Chapter ten
I don’t see Aris for two days. He’s left and hasn’t returned to the manor. I look for updates online but find nothing substantive, just more thirsty comments and threads.
Truthfully, I’ve been a mess. I have no idea what he’s doing, where he’s gone, what he’s planning. I don’t know if he’ll suddenly change his mind and kill me for my deception.
I didn’t admit to plotting with Jaegen, but Aris knows. Trying to deny it only enraged him further.
I have no idea what to do. I’d talk to Jaegen to get his thoughts on the situation, but it’s been nothing but radio silence from him, too. So I’m on my own.
I’ve hunkered down in my room and try to sleep to escape the downtime. But there are nightmares.
In one, I stood before a mountain of corpses that I knew I had to climb. Cold flesh in various states of decay squished beneath my hands as I went higher, pulling myself along by the scraps of clothes, caked in blood, ice, and snow. I must have climbed for hours in temperatures that grew more frigid and unfriendly by the minute.
Finally, I reached the top and looked down at the body at the top of the pile. Of course, it was my face looking back at me. I’m not sure what killed me exactly, but my body was properly mangled, so much so that if it had been real life, I wouldn’t have recognized myself for how beaten I was.
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached down, fingers shaking, numb and black from frostbite as I stroked my misshapen face. This was why I needed to come up here. To see this, and learn: I was already dead.
As soon as I realized it, my body reanimated and grabbed me. The other corpses shot to life in a delayed jolt, their movement forcing me into their pile, screaming as I sank lower and lower until I suffocated on rotten flesh.
I shot awake in bed, panting and clutching my throat. I turned on the light and ran to the nearest mirror, desperate to confirm that I hadn’t succumbed to rot. Naturally, I hadn’t, but it still took hours to calm down.
It’s not the first nightmare I’ve had, nor the worst. I wonder if it’s my own mind torturing me, or if Aris has found a way inside.
Can’t sleep, can’t stay awake. No escape.
I read. Try to, at least, but I’m not engaged. The words are just words on a page—no story or emotion behind them—and, between the lines, I see blood splatters.
My mind drifts to the past: Henry, Simon, the Institute. What are they doing? Is Simon well? Where is Henry? Do they think of me? And what would my life be like if Aris had never attacked the mages?
But thinking these things is just another form of torture.
I pace. Try to read again. Pick at my food, so nervous I can’t eat at all.
Jaegen kept me waiting in London, and maybe Aris is doing the same. I should feel relieved for the reprieve, to have a moment to catch my breath, but I don’t know when he’ll return, or what he’ll do to me when he does.
Beyond that, I’m resentful to be tossed aside again.
It is night and I am in the throes of a nightmare when I’m shaken awake. I register a presence next to me and immediately swing at it. The presence catches my fist, encircling my hand.
“Well, then,” says Aris, amused as he gently squeezes.
I tug my hand back, and Aris waves his own. The room is quickly illuminated by candlelight, revealing the monster beside my bed.
He watches me closely. “You were having a bad dream.”
“Obviously,” I murmur and stand to put some distance between us. Aris watches me move toward the sofa without a word, and I notice a meal on the side table. “What’s this?”
“I won’t let you weaken yourself.”
I scoff. He really is that controlling; he’d take a break from ending the world to make me eat some chicken. “I’m not that fragile,” I mutter .
He gives me a look like I’m ridiculous, lasting so long that I’m unprepared when he appears before me. Without warning, he grabs me by the arm and shoves me against the wall, pulling back before I feel the sting of impact. Still, I’m trembling from the movement, and his grip on me is bruising.
He leans down, breath on my cheek. “You don’t have the slightest idea how fragile you are.”
Before I can respond, he shifts again, throwing us to the ground. We roll, once, twice, and by the time we stop, my body is covered with his own. His hands cage my wrists, grip like iron.
“Get off of me!”
“Escape.” He clinches my hands a little tighter, making me lightheaded.
Tears sting my eyes. “I can’t!”
“What was that?”
I know what he’s doing, and I’m still playing into it; there is no other way. “I can’t,” I grit out, humiliated and furious.
His grip lessens, smirking. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew.”
I turn away. “Does it make you feel strong, picking on me like that?” I mutter.
“I was only making a point.”
He releases me after a final push on my arms. Another show of his superior strength. But he doesn’t let me up; he’s still straddling me. If I try to stand, there’s a risk he’ll push me back down to berate me further. But staying like this is just as embarrassing.
Aris looks at me with mock innocence, a smile growing.
“Why are you here?” I ask angrily. I can’t believe him—he’s ignored me for two days and showed up in the middle of the night to toss me around.
“You won’t eat.”
“I am eating. And you could have just asked me to eat some more. You didn’t have to—”
He leans down until his chest rests against my own. I can feel his cold despite the layers of fabric between us. “I didn’t have to… what? ”
I glance away, cheeks flushing. I won’t lie—proximity to him is starting to affect me. I want him close. Closer . Pinning me for longer. But maybe on the bed…?
“Why did you leave me here?” I say tightly.
“‘Leave you.’ Hm…” He leans down even further, propping himself on his forearms as his hard edges press into me. “Well, maybe I was a little…” His lips brush my ears, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from arching into him. “Angry.”
“Angry,” I murmur breathlessly, mindlessly, caught up in the feel of him against me.
There is a taut, tense moment where I feel completely out of control—and not in the normal way where decisions are being made for me. No, I feel like I can’t control myself . I don’t know what I’m going to do next.
“Eat.”
A hand splashed through a water’s reflection, the moment is ruined.
I glare, and he just raises an unimpressed brow, waiting for me to give in. He can go all night, all month, all year. He’ll keep me pinned beneath him forever.
Finally, I scoff and shift to bear my neck to him. He proved his point. I am fragile, and he is stronger than me. He can make me do what he wants. I might as well go along with it.
He pulls back, wordlessly accepting my defeat, and gets to his feet. Aris extends a chivalrous hand to help me up, which I pointedly ignore. He laughs as I walk past him to the table, staring at the platter of assembled food.
It’s like a Thanksgiving feast with boiled potatoes, blackened corn, turkey legs, and a pitcher of water. There’s a pre-prepared plate, but there is a serving platter on the side, in case I’m still hungry—which I will not be.
I’m not a necessarily heavy sleeper and am somewhat surprised that he managed to set this all up without waking me. Then again, he probably just brought it with a snap of his fingers. No assembly required. No effort on his part.
I take a dejected seat and pick up my fork, moving things around on the plate. “So?” I say. Now what? I can’t tell if he’s punishing me or if he’s just being himself right now.
He sits across from me, clearly pleased with himself. “Drink your water, too.”
A glass has been poured for me already, and I take a quick sip. I go to set the drink down, only to startle when he appears next to me.
“All of it,” he orders and tips the bottom of the glass so I have no choice but to swallow.
I gulp the water down, shooting him another glare when he sets it back on the table and refills it. He keeps his place beside me on the couch and does not return to his original seat.
“Is this really the best use of your time?” I remark.
“I have nothing but time.”
Not true. Though, he doesn’t know that.
He might have discovered who I’m working with, but he said that he didn’t want to kill me. So long as I live, the plan lives with me. Holding tightly to the memory of his blank face, I tell myself that it could even work.
I move more food around the plate, then skewer a group of vegetables and plop them in my mouth. “You’ve been gone the past few days,” I say after swallowing.
“I told you. I was angry.”
“And you aren’t now?”
“Your actions were not entirely unexpected,” he admits after a moment, “and I’m confident that I can handle any plot Jaegen has devised.”
I watch him closely.
“I must say, it isn’t the scheming that bothers me.” He pauses, picking up a strand of my newly dyed hair, and his lips twist. “It’s just, he should have known better than to interfere with you.”
The tips of his fingers are centimeters from my skin; the thought of contact makes my heart race. “Why?” I murmur.
“Because you are mine,” Aris says, as if that were childishly obvious.
Mine.
Ashamed by the flush that courses through me at the word, I turn back to my food. Aris loses his hold on my hair from the movement, and his hand drops back to his side. Only inches of distance gained, it’s still a welcome reprieve from the horrible, lashing urge to touch him.
It’s like a compulsion—more than that, an addiction. A biting, aching urge that I feel from my scalp to the tips of my toes.
My core is so warm, my body so stimulated and bothered, that I’m unable to focus enough to even swallow. I can’t keep myself together. I should be rejoicing—he’s been monitoring what I eat and brought me food. That’s proof that he cares, isn’t it? And his face is no longer pinched, his eyes lighter. Perhaps he’s no longer angry, either—indeed, he even said that he isn’t worried about my actions against him.
But I can’t feel happy about those things. I can’t consider strategy when all I’m thinking about is him—thinking about him in a way that I shouldn’t be.
I finally set my plate down. Aris’ brow raises at the clatter, but I’m so annoyed that I hardly notice.
“Are you making me want you?” I demand.
His smirk grows. “You want me?”
Hell . Didn’t think that one through, did I?
My face feels like it’s on fire. “You know what you’re doing!” I hiss, glaring at the wall. “It’s just another way to mess with me, and you need to stop. I don’t want you doing it.”
He is silent for longer than expected, long enough that my embarrassment ebbs and my skin cools, and I finally risk looking back at him. Of course, Aris is still staring at me, but his gaze is more curious than triumphant.
“You are using something to keep me out of your head. Magic—a rune or mark of some sort. Perhaps an object.”
“So?”
He perks a brow. “ So , the magic blocks me. I cannot influence you the way that you are accusing me.”
“You’re lying.”
“Of course, I must be, because who would you have to blame, then?” Aris asks, teasing gone from his voice. He even sounds gentle. “How could you reconcile your affection for me?”
I scoff. “I feel no affection.”
“And now, who is lying? ”
I’m struggling to think of a response when Aris stands and puts his hands in his pockets. “I am required elsewhere. I will fetch you tomorrow,” he tells me. “And we will travel again.”
Thoughts of his hands on me are quickly shoved aside. “You will kill people,” I say.
He nods, then smiles. "You are adorable when you're frightened."
My glower just makes his smirk grow. “You’re teasing me.”
"Would you like for me to say that I do not enjoy it?" Aris looks me up and down. “You’re in a mood now, aren’t you? I see that you don’t like to be reminded of your feelings towards me.”
“Hate and disgust?”
“No,” he murmurs, eyes dancing. “Not those.”
I work my jaw for a moment, deliberating what to say. How to come out on top. Finally, “No, I don’t like you killing off my species. Pretty sure it’s hate.”
“That’s not all of it, though,” he says. “You should work on being honest toward yourself, Mary. The truth does wonders.” “Does it now?” I reply flatly.
Aris’ smile grows. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, before disappearing into the shadows of the room.
I toss my fork at the place he just inhabited.