His skin tone looked as though it had darkened, but it was hard to tell in the obscurity. “The one you wore for your mother’s fortieth birthday.”
“You mean the silk dress with the gold embroidery and sequins?”
“Yeah. That one.”
I smirked at him. “The correct terminology is nude, not naked.”
A gleam entered his eyes but failed to brighten them. If anything, the green darkened. “I wasn’t referring to its color; I was referring to how it looked.”
My breathing hitched. “It looked like I was naked?”
“From afar.”
I blanched. “A lot of people saw me from afar that day.”
“You look a little queasy, Trifecta.”
“People thought I was wearing strategically-placed golden sequins . . .” I whispered in horror. “Of course I’m queasy. The second I get back, I’m deleting it from my Infinity.”
“That would be a shame.”
“If you love it so much, I’ll beam it to you, and you can gift it to one of your many consorts.”
“It looked good onyou.” His tone was sharp and a little angry. “And stop alluding to me having other girlfriends; I don’t. You’re it.” He stared at the ceiling again. Glared at it. “Even if you don’t want to be it.”
I wasn’t sure how to react to that, so I stayed quiet, picking apart every moment from our past, and analyzing them in a different light, one where I meant something to Remo Farrow other thanmortal enemy. And then I thought of his last few words:Even if you don’t want to be it.
I studied his sharp profile, his clasped lids, the tousled locks of hair that had tripped over his forehead, the purple skin ringing his neck, the rise and fall of his bare, hard chest. “I want to be someone’s choice, not someone’s obligation,” I whispered.
I didn’t know if he’d heard me. I wasn’t even sure I’d wanted him to hear me.
Sighing, I rolled onto my other side and stared at the turquoise wall until sleep erased it from my sight.
26
The Nightmare
“No. No. No! Don’t. No! Amara!”
I sprang awake, my heart in my throat, certain we were under attack. A quick sweep of the room showed me we were alone.
“Don’t. No!” Remo writhed next to me, forehead glistening with sweat and lids clamped so snugly they were bracketed by tiny lines.
I sat, then placed a palm over his drumming heart. “Remo,shh. It’s a nightmare.”
His eyes whipped open, brimming with such panic that I repeated my soft words, coaxing him out of whatever horrid dream he was having. A nightmare about me apparently. I hoped I wasn’t the villain in this one.
His nostrils flared and then his hands shot up to my face and cupped my cheeks so suddenly I almost lost my balance. “You’re not dead. You’re not dead.”
Keeping myself up thanks to the hand still planted on his chest, I wrapped my other one around his wrist, not to tow it off, but to reassure him that I was made of flesh and not ether.
“I lost you. Again. I lost you again. Thedile, it . . .” He shuddered so hard my bones vibrated with his trepidation. “The poison . . . you never woke up.”
The memory of thedileusually made me scrunch up my nose, but I forced my fear away in order to reassure Remo that I was all right. That I wasn’t afraid.
“That little sucker didn’t get me.Yougotit, remember?”
As though to confirm I was solid, his thumbs grazed my cheekbones while his gaze traveled over my mouth, chin, neck, before returning to my eyes and resting there.
