“Percy, what happened today? Has someone hurt you?” she asked me seriously, releasing one of my wrists to take my chin gently in her hand and turn my face towards her. “Your behaviour has been off since you were found. You seem…” she hesitated, as if searching for the word, “sad,” she settled. “What has upset you?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” I answered, and closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at her while I lied.
“It’s not nothing,” she told me, and she released my wrists only to take the edges of my thick oversized soft woollen jumper and drag it up and over my head. “Tell me what has upset you. Why are you angry with me?” she continued, her hands expertly undoing the buttons of my trousers and her thumbs moving below the waistline and caressing my hips.
“Stop it,” I complained again, and pushed at her hands—but it was a weak attempt. “I can dress myself,” I told her.
She hummed, and it felt patronising, like she was telling me she doubted I was capable of such a simple task without saying anything at all.
I stepped out the trousers as she shimmied them down my legs, and she unhooked them from my ankles. Her hands ran up my legs as she stood back up and I couldn’t suppress the shiver her touch created in me.
I was in only my t-shirt and underwear. The fireplace in the room was lit, but the air still had a slight cold nip to it. I felt the hairs on my arms stand.
“What did you read in the library?” she questioned, distracting me as her fingers played with the hem of my t-shirt.
“I didn’t,” I replied, and huffed frustratedly when she pulled my t-shirt over my head, discarding it to the ground.
“What did you do then, if not read, while in the library?” she continued to ask casually as she turned her back to me and walked into the dressing room.
“I slept,” I told her.
“The whole time?” she asked as she returned to the doorway with two set of silken pyjamas thrown over her arm.
“Pretty much,” I told her.
“What were you doing before the library?” She questioned further as she sat the pyjamas on the bed and lifted up a pair of light pink trousers and motioned for me to step in.
I hesitated before answering, long enough that I was putting my arms through the sleeves of the pyjama shirt and Selene was slowly doing the buttons before I replied, “Walking, looking around, trying not to get lost,” I settled on.
“Were you alone the entire time?” she asked as the last button was done.
I nodded, swallowing.
“You know how I feel about liars, pet,” she warned.
“I’m not—" I began but she cut me off.
“Stop,” she demanded. “Before you say another word, know that I will not tolerate falsehoods from you.”
She took hold of my chin as she spoke, her eyes flashing dangerously as she locked her gaze with mine.
“Were you alone the entire time?” she asked again.
“No,” I whispered.
“Good girl, Percy. Thank you for being truthful,” she praised, releasing my chin and stepping away from me.
I watched as she began to remove her own clothing.
Something about the way she undressed was always captivating, even when I was upset—even if there was nothing at all sexual about the action. She was only changing for bed. But the way she moved, the fluidity of her motions, the lines of her body—it was like she had been sculpted by the Gods. She was so damn perfect, it was distracting.
“Who were you with?” she asked as she pulled up her pyjama trousers.
I was brought back to the current conversation with the question. Did I tell her about Katrina? About what she said? What had she even said? It wasn’t important. Not really. Then why keep it a secret?
“I don’t know if I want to tell you,” I finally answered as Selene finished with her shirt.
We were matching apart from colours—I wore pink while Selene wore a deep Borealis blue.
