“I would wait forever for you, Sebastian. Be angry. You’re allowed. Scream at me, fight me, tell me you hate me. I’ll take it, darling. Whatever you need to do, do it. I deserve it.”
“Don’t say that,” I murmur as he presses a soft kiss to my temple.
“The truth is a hard mirror to look into sometimes,” he responds as he pulls back. “I can’t keep hiding from it.”
He doesn’t look away from me, and doesn’t flinch at the reflection staring back at him in my eyes.
There’s no armor left in his gaze.
No practiced mask.
For the first time since he’s been back, he’s stripped bare.
He’sXeni, without trying to be anything more.
My throat dips in a swallow as he presses another kiss to my cheek, then drags his lips to the corner of my mouth. I twist my face to meet him, and he’s so tender as he kisses me like we have all the time in the world. Patient lips and soft breaths, and the gentlest swipe of his tongue over mine.
I want to convince him we’ll find another way, and that he should stay behind and try to make this work, but as hard as it is to admit, he’s right.
A part of me is locked up tight, and it refuses to move on from the hurt. It’s caged—stuck—and I don’t know how to free it so it can belong to him again.
SoIcan belong to him again.
“I won’t beg you to stay,” I say once we separate.
“I wish you would,” he admits in a murmur, “but I understand why you won’t.” We hold each other’s gaze for another long moment before he leans in and kisses me one last time.
“Those nosy little shits are eavesdropping,” he says louder, and a frantic shuffling brings a tiny, sad smile to both our faces.
Xeni swipes his thumb over my lip once more. “We’re going to go back in there and come up with a plan now, alright?”
“Yeah… alright,” I whisper. As I move to pull away, he holds me there. The intensity in his stare steals my breath, but he doesn’t say anything else. He only releases his hold on me and walks into the room as I stand here, completely and utterly defeated.
Xeni
Wednesdaymorningarrivesina blur of endless questions and meticulous planning. Maps with scribbled escape routes have been shoved in my face, and diagrams of the prison layout handed over like I’m supposed to memorize every detail overnight.
They’ve even given me a list of the soldiers known to work at the supply distribution center, as if knowing Da’qual the two-stripe Curtiphan drove the truck seventeen weeks ago will somehow save the day.
Bash has barely left the conference room since I burst in with my plan. He’s keeping his distance, but whenever I glance up, his eyes are on me. What started as worry on his face has shifted to frustration, and now it’s edged with outright anger.
I’m starting to think my plan is backfiring spectacularly.
It all seemed so logical in my head at the time. I’d just stepped out of the shower and was heading to his room, ready to remind himagainhow perfectly we fit together.
I’ve got no pride left when it comes to him. Pleading with him to love me back won’t make it so, but I’d beg night and day if it shifted the needle even a nudge in my direction.
Then I overheard them talking about Cato’s brother, and I seized the chance.
Two birds, one stone.
Begrudgingly save Gideon, and show Icanbe selfless.
Bash has always had a touch of hero worship. He grew up devouring comic books, reading about the good guys who swoop in to save the day, and never outgrew his need for justice. He told me countless stories of running around as a kid with a tablecloth tied around his shoulders in a makeshift cape, saving his action figures from certain doom.
It’s a stark contrast to how I was raised. I was taught to take what I wanted without caring who I took it from. Consequences were for those beneath us, or so my father drilled into me.
Real winner, my pops.
