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As he dipped his foot into the cool river, ripples cascaded outward. He winced slightly, the water’s temperature seemingly colder than he had anticipated, yet he continued. Once submerged, he let out a satisfying sigh, and my mouth turned dry, the air heavy.
He smoothed a hand down his chest, holding his palm over his heart, tilting his head back. The sun filtered through the canopy, painting a mosaic of golden hues on the rocky riverbed, the golden light kissing his beautiful face, though I could see the anguish there. What was he? Who was he?
The silt below my feet gave just a bit, causing me to sink. The rippling water, though subtle, might’ve given me away, had he been looking, but rather than being aware of his surroundings and using caution as most of Requiem did, he remained unmoving, lost in his simple peace, his head staring up to the heavens as if in prayer while running his hands down his pained face. He did not fear this world.
After several moments, he turned back to the bank and grabbed a bar of soap. With slow, deliberate movements, he washed himself, the suds creating a lather that clung to his skin. His long, nimble fingers traced patterns across his chest, and I found myself captivated by the way he cared for his body, every motion exuding a sense of tenderness. My own body responded, forcing me to remember what it was like to have those hands on me. I wanted desperately to turn away, but I could not tear my eyes from him. Each drip of water cascading down his broad chest called to me, and I hated it. He should have been ugly. Monsters always were. Though Death was just as beautiful, and he was the greatest monster of all.
Orin swam closer to the center of the river, lying back carefully until he floated, moving those fingers through the water in a rhythm that told me one of his songs must have been playing through his mind. As if the music he crafted came from a place like this. Tranquil and quiet.
The second his eyes closed again, I shifted my feet, fighting the way the deep mud in the river pulled me down. The rippling water nearly reached him, and I prepared to dive and hold my breath for an eternity, but before I could, he stood, whipping around to face me. “You can come out now, Wife. The show’s over.”
I jerked, absolute mortification seeping over me as a tingling sensation raced up my back and across my neck, no doubt turning every trace of skin as red as possible. But I couldn’t let him have this moment of victory. Each sparring match with him, verbal or otherwise, was a battle, and I would not lose.
Embarrassed as I was, I swam forward just as close to the bank as he was, keeping my breasts below the surface as I boldly stared him in the eyes. “I wondered when you were going to stop fondling yourself so I could leave in peace.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, spreading his legs a little further, as if daring me to look. “You know it shrinks in the water, right?”
“Feeling paranoid?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just warning you, in case that pretty color on your neck means what I think it does.”
“There is absolutely no way in the heavens or hell that I’m ever going to need that warning.” I pushed out of the water unabashedly, walking with every ounce of confidence I could draw from this world. Stepping past him, completely naked and dripping wet, I gathered my hidden things while his jaw hung open. I walked back, ankle-deep in the water once more, closing his mouth with my finger as I growled. “You’d have to get on your fucking knees and beg for it. And even then, I’d rather see you devoured by a hellhound.”
He struck hard and fast, gripping my throat as darkness filled his eyes. “There she is.” His fingers tightened until I could hardly swallow. “I wondered when you’d come out to play, Nightmare.”
I forced a smile. “I’ll happily come back to remind you who I am when you can stand up straight.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
I grabbed his wrist and twisted. He gave in too easily, breaking contact because he didn’t have the strength to fight beyond the pain of his injuries.
“Funny. Your scratch is bleeding again.”
He looked down, and I took the opportunity to storm off, his growl of annoyance following me back over that hill, though he did not.
Chapter 21
After dressing outside, I hustled to Orin’s bedroom. I had three, maybe four minutes before I was sure he would come waltzing in, but he had Chaos hiding somewhere, hopefully in this house, and I aimed to find her. She wouldn’t sit properly above the door frame, but I dragged my fingers over the ledge anyway. I rummaged through his clothes several times, noting how he kept his performance attire hanging and the rest of his clothing neatly folded. He lived two lives, separate, but the same.
It only occurred to me when I heard the stairs creak that I hadn’t checked for loose floorboards beneath the bed. But he was coming, so I’d have to save it for later.
Sneaking out, I zipped across the hall, keeping the door to my borrowed bedroom open just enough to watch that infuriating man saunter into his room, whistling in perfect pitch as if he were a fucking songbird. I cursed the golden band on my arm and sat heavily on the edge of my bed.
A crash downstairs turned the house into an uproar of Quill screaming at her dog while Orin’s mother yelled about catching whatever he’d just stolen from the kitchen, and Hollis laughing a great, big, belly laugh. Within seconds, my door flew open, and Boo dashed into the room, a whole cooked chicken in his mouth. He tried darting under the bed but didn’t fit, so half of him hung out, that white long-hair tail thumping against the floor in victory.
“Boo!” Quill shouted, rounding the corner, only to stop dead in her tracks the moment her eyes landed on me. “Oh, Boo! Please. He doesn’t mean to be naughty. He’s a really good boy. I promise.”
Her big, blue eyes welled with tears as she glanced between me and the dog, bringing her delicate fingers to her mouth. Gods. She thought I was going to kill him. I needed to stop flinging empty threats around so much.
“Please don’t be afraid. I promise I won’t hurt him. Or you.”
She took a tiny step forward, but I suspected that was all she could commit to.
I pushed off the bed and inched backward. Quill looked at Orin’s door, no doubt for a place to run if I made any sudden movements. Smart girl.
Falling to my hands and knees, I knelt beside the dog, snatching his collar and dragging him out. He still had half a chicken in his mouth, but when I tried to take it out, he snarled.
Quill gasped.
