His back tenses as he slowly looks at me over his shoulder, cracking eggs into a frying pan with one hand. “Can you give me one day where I can ignore everything else, please?”
“We haven’t left?”
“Not yet.”
The world has stopped somewherein the last twenty-four hours. But it begins spinning again as dusk quickly darkens the sky while I explore the cabin for the best view of the stars. Kane hasn’t left my side unless he was making something to force me to eat and the electrolyte water has reduced the effects of being dehydrated.
I peer up a small ladder hidden in the kitchen to see where it leads to. Everything else is on a single level with the entire frontage made out of glass, but as I slowly climb up the wooden rungs, the best view on the planet comes into view. It’s like a heated snow globe with a fur rug covering the wooden floor, a glass-domed roof covering the mezzanine from the elements without obstructing the scenery. This type of isolation isn’t so bad as I stand in the middle of the room with my neck craned to see the stars slowly unveiled.
Kane wraps his arms around me from behind as he kisses my forehead. “Dance with me?”
“There’s no music.” I shake my head, smiling up at the darkening sky.
“Really?” he whispers. “You need music when you have symphonies memorized in your fingertips?”
“I don’t like dancing.”
“So…” he asks with a playful smirk. “Neither do I.” He takes my hand, slowly turning me in his arms. “We never had our first dance, so dance with me,Kane, for the first time, my pretty wife.”
“That’s better than egghead.” My voice is too soft with my favorite version of Kane in front of me beneath a glittering sky.
“Multiple things can be true at once.” He lifts my hands to his shoulders as he bends his knees. “You are beautiful, vicious, strong, and you have an egg-shaped head.”
Even though there’s no music, it’s perfect as we slowly sway. The domed ceiling means I can always see the stars as he slowly turns us in a circle.
“We’ve both made mistakes,” he whispers. “Mine are worse than yours, but this right here, dancing with you, is always going to be cherished. Thank you for giving me this.”
He kisses my cheek, careful not to block my sight as he moves further down to my neck. “Keep watching the stars, pretty girl.”
“Like we used to?” I whisper back.
“Just like we used to,” he repeats, slowly pushing his weight forward until I lay on the floor.
There are myths about stars being immortalized souls watching over everyone. The strongest fighters, the most fearless protectors have been placed above everyone so they’re never alone. But I’ve had many different people watch me—from being forced to play the piano for my parents’ guests, my father pimping me out, my own craving for attention. They were allintrusive and unsatisfying, yet the stars blinking down at me are peaceful as Kane kisses below my ear.
“Tell me you want this,” he begs.
“Would you care if I said no?”
“Yes,” he says without a pause. “I want you to have a choice from now on. I fucked up, so say no. Tell me to go fuck myself. As long as it’s the truth, say it.”
I want the peace I felt while I watched the stars with his head between my legs, but those memories don’t belong to me anymore. If I try to recreate them, the disconnect with my body will only grow until I’m a character playing a role instead.
He sits up on his knees as he takes something out of his pocket. “You’re in control, Delilah.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile, then go back to watching the stars because we both know it’s bullshit. My need to be scared was a way for me to trick my mind when I’ve never been in control of anything, not really. But he places the knife he gave me for protection in my hand again. My heart rate picks up in sadistic excitement at the prospect of hurting him as he brings it to his neck.
“Do it,” he urges, pulling the knife closer. “I told you I’ll die as your husband, so do it. I’ll become the ghost again, for real this time.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
“Do you want to hurt me?” he asks without any judgment.
I weakly nod.
“Good.” He drops my hand to resituate himself between my thighs, brushing my hoodie up as he smirks. “Count how many times I make you come on my shoulders.”
I don’t understand what he’s asking me to do until he pulls his shirt off and guides my wrist down so the tip of the knife is resting on his skin. “Now watch the stars, koukla mou.”
