The sharp edge of terror sliced through me because I had no choice but to listen. Death by collapsed building or death by beating? Either way, it would be death. Running would have been a quicker end. Maybe.
I was as insane as he was. Any moment, he would realize I was real.
My shaking had equaled his by the time I reached him. Acknowledging the inevitable, I set my head against his sternum and hoped his anger would get the better of him and my end would be quick.
“I hate games,” he said in a harsh whisper. “No, I love them.”
A shudder ran through him, and I felt the weight of his hand against the back of my head.
“Why can this not be real?”
He gently smoothed his fingers over my hair in a light and soothing touch. The short section of chain rattled with each pass, and I realized he didn’t intend to hurt me. At least, not at this moment.
The hand by his side, the one he’d used to hit the wall, dripped with his blood.
Poor, Crazy Adonis. So tormented and messed up. I truly felt sorry for him. Not enough to look at him like he wanted or—I almost snorted—to love him like he’d demanded. The idea of doing either was absurd. But enough to wish there was some way I could help him be less anguished. A calmer C’adon would benefit us both.
Obviously, he didn’t like me going into the soul rooms. However, I wasn’t about to forgo opening those doors. That was my potential means of escaping Hell. But I couldn’t have him freaking out like this every time, either.
How could I keep him happy without jeopardizing myself?
He really liked when I ate what he fed me. I tried not to overthink that too much, though, because in the back of my mind was the scenario that he was fattening me up like a pig to the slaughter.
Frustrated, I rubbed my forehead against him.
“Sweet goddess,” he breathed. “This is what should have been. A touch, freely given. Without blood. Without pain. Why can this not be real?”
He groaned a sound of frustration and anguish.
And I had my answer. He wanted me to touch him. Every time I did, he calmed.
Testing it, I turned my head, lightly resting my cheek against his chest. His heart beat steadily under my ear. Not his breathing. The air whooshed out of him on a pained moan. He didn’t grab at me but held completely still, even the hand on the back of my head.
He definitely liked being touched, and I couldn’t say I minded. I inhaled his scent, trying to give it a name. It reminded me of a campfire on a clear, starry night. Dark yet comforting. A mix of calm wonder and contentment. His scent called to me, enticing me to stay. And I wanted to. Maybe a little too much.
I tried lifting my head, but his hand tangled in my hair and pressed the side of my face to his skin.
“I need her. I won her.” The rough words rumbled through his chest. “She is mine.”
I jerked away from him, losing a strand or two of hair that had been wrapped around his fingers in the process. He didn’t fight to keep me in place this time, which was the only thing that stopped me from running. Pretending to be calmer than I felt, I smoothed my hands over my tousled hair and looked down the hallway to the next room.
My mind raced, and an idea formed.
C’adon calmed down when I touched him. However, blatantly touching him every time he threw a fit was dangerous. He would either figure out I was real or let his temper fly all the time to get the touching he desperately craved. Maybe even do both, and neither would end well for me. But the touching part might work if I wasn’t obvious about it.
His obsession with thinking that everything was a game might be the key to giving him the physical contact he wanted in a safe-for-me way. Well, safer than any other option.
“Look at her skin.”
Ignoring his ramblings, I moved to the next door and set my ear against it. His rambling remained consistent, and the room was quiet. Rather than opening the door like normal, I stepped to the side and set my forehead against the wall.
C’adon’s mad chatter quieted.
Hoping he was watching me as closely as I thought he was, I lifted the latch and turned my head as if looking at the opening. However, what I was really doing was pressing my cheek against the stone.
At the sound of him moving closer, I released the latch and quickly dropped my gaze to the door’s bottom hinge. I wasn’t particularly interested in the mechanism but in avoiding C’adon’s stare as he moved to stand in front of me and studied my face.
“She hugs the stone. What game is this?”
