Him looking everywhere but at me doused me like a cold shower, the droplets freezing into icicles and cleaving me apart. Ignoring how my boots left smears of dirt on the white bedsheets, I knelt before him. “Did I hurt you?”
His lack of response fueled the dread churning in my gut.
Warily, I rested my palm on his calf. As he showed no signs of apprehension, I squeezed his leg, but in a much lighter manner than the noose furling around my vocal cords. “If I caused you pain, and not in a good way, I need to know.”
He ripped at his hair, his eyes wildly bouncing around the bedroom, from the light gray walls to the ebony closet, from the bathroom’s closed door to the large windows lining the far wall.
“Please talk to me,” I pleaded.
“It’s just… You’re alive.” Zion bored into me. “You’re actually alive.” Trembling, he swiped an errant strand off my forehead, traced the slope of my nose, a line to my chin, his touch as light as his whispers. “I can touch you. Feel your pulse.”
“I’m alive,” I murmured, enjoying the tenderness so unlike him. “And I won’t leave you. Never again.”
As a leader of thousands of people, I had learned a few things, including giving only the vows you intended to keep. And Zion? He more than deserved my promise. One I was set on making come true day after day.
Drawing idle lines up his arm, I frowned at the scarlet slash on his limb. One of the soldiers must have left it. But the clotted blood had formed a sufficient seal, eradicating the possibility of a new scar forming.
Zion grasped my wrist, halting my inspection. “Are you real?”
My skin crawled at his question, at the prospect of this being merely a hallucination. “Yes.”
“But how can I know?” he asked. “I wanted you for so long. I thought you’d never consider it—me.” He took my hand, like he often did with Kali, and began to knead the pressure points. “I had you for less than half a day before the accident. And then you disappeared for months. I understand why you did it, why I couldn’t tell Kali, but?—”
I covered his mouth. “This is real. Do not doubt that.” Sitting on my heels, I savored how his thumbs massaged my palm. “I won’t lie that I spent endless years purposefully holding you at arm’s length, but…I was too afraid to make you a more prominent target than you already were. I was terrified of losing you, Zion. I thought if I buried myself in work and stayed away from you, it would ease my fears. But it never did.” Bitterness coated my chuckle. “There was a reason why I often strayed to the training rings at odd hours. It was the only time I could be close to you without it meaning anything. Or that was what I told myself.”
Shuffling closer to him, I sought his body heat. “I have inflicted scars upon you for nothing more than trying to save your sister.” His warmth fueled the confession tumbling out ofme. “It was a mistake, and one I regret to this day,” I said, staring at the burn scars stretching across his left forearm. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want—needyou, Zion. I wore Kali down until she admitted she belonged to us because, for some reason, I love the sight of you and her together, and I want the same from you.”
His throat moved. “And what is that?”
“To claim you as mine,” I explained. “She already has you, but it’s different with us.” The mattress dipped as I shuffled closer to him. “I have caused you to suffer before, and I cannot do it again.”
He stared at me. “This…”
“I know. You don’t have to say anything.” I kissed his shoulder, barely containing the yearning to color him. The unblemished flesh at the crook of his neck was the perfect location to close my jaws around. “We can go to sleep. Nothing has to happen tonight.”
“No.” He gripped my shirt’s neckline. “That’s not what I want.”
“Are you sure?” I caressed the hollow of his throat. A thin layer of epidermis, some tendons, muscles, and blood vessels were all that protected his trachea, the channel so easy to crush, yet firm enough to keep him alive for me.
He nodded.
“Speak up, then,” I told him.
Tugging the fabric, he hauled me closer to him. “Erase the last few months.”
His plea furled around me like a bird’s wings, the feathers tickling my pelvis and mollifying my hesitation.
“Close your eyes,” I murmured.
He obeyed, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed. Aware of my movements, seeking not to disturb the wisps of the peace cocooning him, I climbed off the bed.
Intentional loss of control could be a powerful thing. The trust someone would hand over to you could make your head spin.
Which meant you took precautions. Searched their face for contortions. Scanned their body for hints of curling into itself. Gave your full attention to their needs, the sensations they experienced and not the pleasure steadily climbing up your legs.
Squatting in front of the light gray dresser sitting under a window, I rummaged in the bottom drawer. As expected, Zion had finished sneakily moving half of his toys from his bedroom to Kali’s.
Neatly organized, the large drawer boasted seven sections, and I reached for the thin scarves stacked in the corner. The black fabric fluttered in my fist as I gently kicked the drawer shut.
