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“You don’t have to do that,” he says. “Not with me.”
“I want to. I need—” My hands find the front of his shirt. “Orien, I need—”
“I know.” His thumb moves to my lower lip, and the gentleness of it is almost worse than if he’d pushed me away. “I know what you need. But not like this.”
“Please.” The word comes out before I can stop it.
His gaze drops to my lips, and a shudder goes through him before he pulls the rein’s tight on his self-control.
“You’re drunk,” he says, as if he needs to remind himself of this, too. “You’re in shock. You just killed a man.”
He reaches out and grabs the stuffed fox, fitting it back into my arms, where I latch on tight.
His hand returns to my head, stroking my hair as if he can’t stop himself from touching me again. “You’re not in the right state of mind to make any decisions tonight while you’re crashing.”
I blink up at him, hating him a little for caring more for my agency than I do.
“It’s okay to want comfort and connection. But I’m not going to take advantage of that when you’re not thinking clearly.” His touch moves down to my nape, one finger slipping under the guard to graze my skin. “When we’re together, I want it to be because you chose it, not because you needed an escape.”
My heart twists around itself. No one’s ever cared what I wanted before, not really. Even Alexei, who loves me, would have told me to leverage this moment to my advantage.
“I’m sorry,” I manage, the words thick. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t.” He massages the base of my skull, and my lashes flutter in response. “Don’t apologize for wanting. But…” He pauses, choosing his words with care. “Wait until you’re sure it’s what you want, not just what you need.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.”
Orien’s hand squeezes gently before he reaches out to grab my abandoned food and places it back in front of me. “Finish your food. I’ll be right back.”
As he leaves me to my thoughts and heads into the kitchen, I stare down at the container of chicken and rice without seeing it. No one’s ever treated me this way before. As if what I want matters. As if my consent is worth protecting, even from myself.
It should make me nervous. It should leave me wondering what he wants in return, what he expects from me when this is all over.
Instead, I just want to cry all over again.
Despite the knot in my stomach, I take another bite of food, and another after that, chewing and swallowing as Orien moves through the kitchen. He rinses the dishes in the sink, dries them with a dish towel, and puts them away in the cabinet.
It’s so normal. So domestic. So at odds with the violence that happened here only hours ago that I can’t quite reconcile the two.
The dishes put away, Orien comes to sit beside me on the bed. “How’s the food?”
“Good,” I answer, surprised to find it’s the truth. “Thank you.”
He adds more water to the glass from a bottle he brought from the kitchen. “Drink up.”
I do as he asks, and when I finish, my stomach stretches taut. He takes the empty glass and the food container from my lap and takes care of them before he returns to my side.
“You should try to sleep,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”
The understatement draws a watery laugh from me. “Just a bit.”
His mouth quirks in a half-smile. “Yeah, well.” He stands, then pauses, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “I’ll go so you can rest.”
The thought of him leaving sends a jolt of panic through me so powerful it leaves me dizzy. “Don’t.” I reach out to catch his hand. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
His face softens. “Okay, lie down. I’ll turn off the lights.”
I do as he asks, curling onto my side with the fox hugged close. My cheek sinks into the pillow as exhaustion hits with sudden force.
