A muscle in his jaw twitches. “It’s just a building.”
“It’s not, and you know it. You made this for him. For what he meant to me.”
He looks away, but I can see his shoulder stiffen beneath his jacket. “I made it for you. I would do anything for you.”
I walk to stand beside him at the glass barrier, wrapping my arms around him as I look down at the city, at the cars threading through the streets, the lights flickering on in apartment windows as darkness gathers.
“Thank you,” I whisper, even though the words feel insufficient, even pathetic in front of everything.
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m still essentially evil,” he says with a dark smile.
“Of course, you are. Wouldn’t want you any other way,” I agree, matching his smile. “Thoroughly evil. The garden is clearly just to lure victims to their doom.”
“Exactly,” he nods, keeping a serious poker face. “Some of the herbs are poisonous.”
I smile again, leaning my head against his shoulder, watching the last ray of light disappear between the other buildings.
The air between us feels different now, charged not just with the usual tension of desire and danger. Something else. Something that has been between us for a while, and I don’twant to fully admit it. Yes, I did say I love him, but this takes things to a whole new intensity. Because it’s vulnerability. The face of the man who exists behind the myth he’s created of himself.
There is something different between us. A recognition I’m beginning to understand that requires no acknowledgment. We are both more and less than what we pretend to be. Both haunted by a past. Both trying, in broken ways, to build something from the ruins. Together.
And for me, that’s enough.
thirty-two
-Brynn-
Warning: Chapter 32 contains graphic depictions of: mutilation, amputation, self-cannibalism. This chapter can be skipped, without affecting the course of the story.
Two weeks later
I jolt upright, beads of sweat rolling down my face, my heart thumping against my ribs, like it’s trying to escape my body, while a scream catches in my throat like a trapped animal.
The nightmare doesn’t fully disappear. It only scatters into memories. The clinical white walls, the sound of medical instruments being arranged on a table, Ezekiel’s eyes watching me as he cuts into me, line by line.
But then there’s comfort, safety, love. Ares’ arms are wrapped around me, holding me as close to his chest as humanly possible, his fingers brushing through my hair.“Breathe, little curse… breathe. It’s just a nightmare.I’mhere.”
He’s the only thing calling me to reality, reminding me that I’m here, not there.Never there again. I still have a few scars thatAres still needs to replace, but I’m not sure how he will heal the ones in my mind.
For a whole year, I focused only on Elias, on bringing his killers to justice, but now that he’s avenged, I'm left with my past. I used to have these nightmares before. Every night, ever since I was locked up in the asylum.
I don’t understand why they won’t go away, but deep down I know. I need closure. I need to see his fucking dead body.
“I’m fine,” I whisper back, though my words lack conviction. “Go back to sleep,” I kiss him, then nestle my head against his chest.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he says, tracing the line of one of my cheekbones. “That’s the fourth time this week.”
I know that Ares doesn’t need as much sleep as humans do, but it’s recreational to him, so if he wasn't sleeping, it means I was the one keeping him up.
My hands are still shaking as I slide them under the covers where he can’t see, but I know he feels it. Nothing escapes this man. Not my shallow breathing, or the way my eyes search the corners of the room, scanning for threats that follow me from my nightmares in reality.
“Just a dream,” I mutter, wrapping an arm around him and tracing my fingers along his back.
“The same dream,” he doesn’t ask. He just states.
My nightmares aren’t really dreams. They’re just memories preserved by my broken mind that come surfacing whenever anything good happens to me.
“You call his name.” He states again with a tone that scares me. “When you dream. You call Ezekiel.”
