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She felt his hands grip her ankle tighter, and not entirely gently.
It thrilled her.
“I do not wish to be indelicate,” Griffin hurled at her, and she could feel the great blaze of him, there beneath her foot. She could feel it race up her limbs, making her shiver. Making her wet. Making her that much more determined to get through to him. “But you are not in a position to judge, Melody. You lack context.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she chided him. “Do you really think that you can insult me? My father is inferior to you in every conceivable way, save one. When it comes to insults, Aristotle Skyros is truly peerless.”
Below her, she could feel the tension in Griffin tighten. He had to be reaching his breaking point, she thought.
And in the next moment, he moved.
It was sheer joy.
He tried to simply shove her away, moving her foot as if he could move her body that easily. Succumbing to that belief in his own superior power that Fen had always taught her about.Even if they see what you can do, they will not believe it, the older woman had told her.It will not make sense to them. They will assume that because they are bigger they will always be stronger. That is a weapon. Your weapon.
Melody broke his hold and flipped backward, hampered only slightly by the dress she wore. Despite the dress throwing off her form, she landed nimbly and evenly, laughing as her feet hit the ground.
“Come now, Griffin,” she scolded him. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said stiffly.
“Why ever not? Are you afraid that I will best you? You should be.”
He made a noise like thunder. “What will happen, Melody, is that I will hurt you!”
She danced closer. And then she punched him, hard.
Right in the solar plexus.
And waited until he pulled a ragged breath back in.
“No,” she said, steadily. Intently. “You won’t.”
“I won’t fight you,” Griffin gritted out. “No matter the provocation.”
“No sex.” Melody kept her hands up as if, at any moment, she might strike him again. “No sparring. What remains, then, in this imaginary marriage you intend for us to have?”
“I don’t care,” he growled at her. “Just so long as it does not—”
“Hurt?” she prompted him. “But I think it will, Griffin. I am certain of it.”
And this time, when she danced close again, she ducked beneath his arms. And stayed there, flush against his chest, her palms flat against the steel of his pectoral muscles.
“Melody...”
Her name was a warning.
“Here is a greater hurt, then,” she said softly. “I love you, Griffin.”
And for a long moment, he was silent. Still. Beneath her hand, his heart pounded, but it was as if he was once again made of stone. Impossible marble beneath her palms.
Deep inside her, something started to crack. Because if she could not reach him, then what? Had she truly exchanged one prison for another after all? She hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“No,” Griffin said at last. She had begun to worry he would not speak at all. And he sounded tortured when he did, making that cracking inside her go deeper. Wider. “You cannot. That is a darkness no one can penetrate, I promise you.”
“I’m not afraid of darkness,” she whispered. “I live there.”
“Melody.” Another warning, though this one more broken. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
