Archie’s brows furrow, and his eyes narrow on mine.
Panic hits my bloodstream.
Is he going to make me go first? Sans editing? Unfiltered Sarelia bursting forth in horrendously wrong marital desires?
I clutch the lists to the vicious beating of my chest. “Archie?”
His hand shoots out to pinch my chin almost painfully, twisting my face one way, then the other before forcing it back center, barely inches away from his.
“Who made you cry?” he asks, the words ripping from his chest like a storm about to burst.
Ah.
My shoulders drop. I guess my wish was not granted.
“I’m okay,” I say, bringing a hand to his wrist.
This was thewronganswer.
Thunder rumbles in his throat, and his hand slips from my chin to grip my neck. “Who. Made. You. Cry?” he repeats, each word a strike of lightning between us.
My eyes flutter closed, unbidden.
It was a stupid wish, anyway. Why would I have wanted to prevent Archie seeing me post-cry when he responds likethis.
This might even be better than a touch-her-and-die.
“Sarelia.” His fingers flex against my skin, biting. “Answer me.”
Scratch that, this isway betterthan a touch-her-and-die.
Morale forthcoming, I lean into his touch.
Chapter Thirteen
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Archie
I slide my hand around Sarelia’s neck when she leans toward me, careful not to crush any fragile systems as her weight pushes my fingers deeper into her skin.
“I’m okay,” she says, as if that is more of an answer now than when she said it the first time.
“I don’t care that you’re okay,” I reply. “I care that youweren’t.”
Her mouth dips as she works to hold in a smile.
“The only one allowed to cause you distress isme,” I rumble. “And only when youask for it.”
“I’m not feeling any distress now.”
My hand twitches. “Sarelia, please.”
Her eyes blink open to peer into mine, seemingly gauging how serious I’m being.
The answer is very.
Her shoulders slump, and she pulls back from my touch. “I was just on the phone with my parents.”
