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Every other time I’ve let myself be happy, every other time I’ve given in to just enjoying myself, it’s ended in tragedy or disaster. Every single time. Good feelings are just illusions, traps to lure you into a false sense of security.
Then life shovels shit in your face.
“Paige?” My name is a velvety soft whisper on his tongue. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
Hurt me? Ha! It would be easier if he had. No, Jovak, you didn’t hurt me, but I don’t know what to say.
His eyes contain such tenderness, mingled with steamy desire, that it’s too much for me. I have to get away. It’s not like I can have him. Not really. Not in a lasting way that really matters.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words like lead on my tongue. I put my hands on his chest and then pushed away. He lets me go without a fight, his hands extending to the side.
“Have I done something wrong?” The look of hurtful rejection in his eyes is too much to bear. I know how much he wants me … almost as much as I want him. We’ve been feeling this tension climb ever since he saved our lives in the valley.
I shook my head because I couldn’t hope to speak over the choking, gasping sob trying to work its way out of my throat. I just can’t swallow it down.
“I’m scared,” I managed to croak out at last as the tears began to fall. They slid down my cheeks, hot and bothersome, adding to the frustration taking hold of me.
With that, I have to run. Even though there could be orcs, bears, or worse, in the woods, I flee into the dusk.
I moved into the tree line, my vision blurring with tears. My shoulders and chest shake with heavy sobs. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know quite why I ran away, and I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to go back to him. It’s probably best if I don’t, but I want to.
I hear the door open again and then his heavy tread. I turned around and pressed my forehead into the rough bark of a tree, tears continuing to fall. It’s so unfair. I want to give in to my desires, but I feel too much fear to let myself. Surely anything that feels this good must be a trick.
The leaves crunched underfoot as Jovak came around the trunk of the tree. I can’t bear to look at him. He might be furious with me. Maybe he thinks I’m a tease or something. I don’t know, but I’m afraid he’s going to leave Laney and me behind now. After all, I rejected him and ran away.
“Paige …”
His voice carries no hint of recrimination. Only worry and a desire to soothe me. His hand falls on my shoulder, and I start sobbing harder.
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t know how to tell him. I can’t even put all of these fractured thoughts and feelings into a semblance of order. I roil inside and out, riding the waves of powerful emotions I have stymied for so very long.
He gently pulled my shoulder. I allowed him to turn me around, but I kept my hands pressed over my face.
“Paige.”
He took me into his arms, gently this time. This isn’t torrid passion. It’s his desire to comfort. I fell into him, crying harder than ever, and buried my face in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I say between wracking sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh,” he says softly, petting my hair exactly the way I do Laney’s when she’s upset.
“You’re probably going to leave us now,” I say in a wail. “Please don’t leave us. We’ve been alone for so long, I don't know if I …”
I can’t form articulate speech when I’m crying this hard. I don't think I’ve cried like this since Gramps died ... if I even did it then.
“No,” he says firmly, still petting my hair. “I won’t leave you, either of you.”
That should be reassuring, and indeed it is. But good feelings ironically instill fear and anxiety in me. So naturally, I start crying even harder.
“I won’t abandon you,” he says again. “I said I would take you to my tribe, and I will do so. I do not go back on my word. Unless I’m trying to deceive a damned pointy-eared dark elf.”
When he mentions dark elves, the vitriol in his voice is tinged with … something. I’m not sure what. Something beyond simple prejudice or hatred. I file the thought away for later since I’m hardly in any shape to ask him about it. Besides, now is not the time.
“It would not speak highly of my character if I left you two to your fate just because you rejected my advances,” he says. There’s disappointment in his voice but no anger or bitterness. I can’t stand to make him feel this way.
“I’m not rejecting you,” I say quickly, looking up at him through eyes still misty with tears. It occurs to me that I probably look like shit. “Oh god,” I say, pulling away from him somewhat, though his arms remain on my shoulders. “I must look awful, all covered with snot and my face swollen ….”
