Soul in Darkness (Page 26)

I glowered, not caring for this at all. Mostly because it forced me to acknowledge the flare of anticipation his nearness brought.

“Put these on so you do not accidentally touch me.” A gorgeous pair of iridescent gloves appeared from nowhere in front of me. I startled, giving a small jump.

“How did you…? I cannot sleep in gloves.”

“You will find they are quite comfortable.”

I crossed my arms. “Perhaps it would be simpler if I slept on the lounger.”

“Put on the gloves and get into bed, Psyche.” His forceful tone irked me to no end. My arms tightened across my chest and my lips pursed.

“There are limits to my patience,” he warned.

I did not trust this. Not at all. But I loathed when he forced me to his will and would prefer not to feel powerless like that again, so I huffed through my nose as I yanked the gloves on. Damn them for feeling so wonderful. They were lightweight, yet when I touched my hands together, I could not feel a thing through them. I roughly pulled down the blanket and climbed in.

Mino jumped up, turning ‘round and ‘round as he pressed against me, tongue lolling, begging for pets. It was hard to keep my grumpy disposition with his loving, carefree attention. I sighed and tried to focus only on him, but it was impossible not to feel my husband’s invisible eyes on me, laying so close.

Sphinx, apparently perturbed by the puppy’s antics, leapt across the space to pounce on him, her tiny paws wide. My husband and I both laughed as they rolled around between us making adorable growling sounds. After a while of this, I found myself sinking down and getting comfortable. I wondered if my husband had propped his elbow to hold his head as I did while he watched the precious spectacle. I wondered if his wings were folded neatly on the bed behind him or if they hung off and trailed the floor.

What did he look like?

Were his eyes warm and kind or beaded and calculating? Was his head covered in scales and horns or the hair of a man? Most importantly, who had control over him, and why?

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked.

I decided to answer without holding back. “I was thinking of you, and what you might look like, and how you came to be in this situation with me. I would like to know your story.” I felt splayed open just then, vulnerable.

“And I would very much like to share every detail with you. Someday, if our team wins, I will.”

I regarded his presence and felt the wall of fear slipping. I had worked so hard to hold it up, expending every last bit of my energy, that my body all but sagged with relief as I let it go. Perhaps this would be my greatest downfall, this very moment, when I finally decided to push past my trepidations.

“I’m going to trust my instincts,” I said softly. “Maybe that makes me a fool, but I cannot continue to live in fear. I was not built that way. I want to trust you. I want to…work with you. As a team. To do whatever it is we are meant to do.”

A grateful sound escaped his throat. “I know I said I would not touch you,” he breathed. “But I must.”

I went very still and closed my eyes as I felt his large, warm hand touch my cheek and hold the side of my face with utter gentleness, his fingertips slipping into my hair. Would he kiss me? My chest rose and fell in a shudder as I recalled the feel of his lips.

No. No, I didn’t want that. I shouldn’t. It was one thing to work with him to achieve a goal, whatever that elusive goal might be, but I had to keep my mind clear. This twisted lust I sometimes felt did not belong. It was misplaced emotion—a product of madness caused by an outrageous situation. I would not waste another moment feeling guilty for what had happened, but I also could not allow myself to indulge those sorts of thoughts, husband or not.

“You often overthink,” he said with patience, his hand dropping away.

I shook my head. “There is no harm in caution. Especially when my life and well-being are on the line.”

“Hm.” My lips twisted at the sound, and he asked. “Why are you making that face?”

“I hate when you say, Hm.”

He had the nerve to laugh. “My hands are tied. Figuratively. You know that.”

“It is still annoying.”

Another laugh from him had me shaking my head again and trying not to smile.

“You know,” he said, “If there is something you want…anything…you need only ask.” I got the distinct impression he was talking about what had taken place between us in this bed. He may have promised not to do it again against my will, but he was still hoping for more. I cleared my throat.

“I want nothing.”

“Shame.”

I rolled my eyes. For a creature of Olympus, he was such a man.

“Continue to follow your instincts, Psyche,” he whispered. “Even if they go against your need for precaution. You will not regret it.”

I hoped not, because at this point, my instincts were all I had. But I was not going to indulge in any misplaced desires that might arise along the way, no matter how much he wanted me to. From here on out, my mind would be clear. I would work with my husband as a teammate, but that was all. No kissing or touching or anything of the sort. And please gods, no more dreams of Leodes.

SPEAKING WITHOUT WORDS

It was bizarre to wake in the dawning light with a puppy curled against my belly, a kitten beside my head with her tail draping my throat, and a heavy, warm hand over my waist, his leg pressed against mine from behind. I lay there very still, soaking in the sensation.

Why did he have to feel like such a normal man? A monster’s touch should never be so comforting. Would it be okay to pretend, for a brief moment, that he was Leodes? No, not Leodes; thoughts of him got me into trouble. But a man. A respectable man my parents had married me off to with their blessing. A man who cared for me and would always look out for my well-being. A man who would eventually fill my belly with his seed to make us a father and mother.

No. Not that last one. I’d hardly given any thought to motherhood, so I wasn’t sure where that came from. No pretending. This entire line of thought was not beneficial. I would drive myself to despair thinking of that which I would never have. My life had no room for childish daydreams anymore. Dreams were not harmless. Desires were a danger.

I felt my husband’s fingers flex on my waist, his leg stiffening just before he stretched, wakening.

“Good morning,” he said, wafting warm honey my way. Who wakes with perfectly scented breath? My creature, apparently. It was dizzying.

“Morning,” I mumbled, keeping my face turned away.

He patted my hip and I felt the bed shift as he climbed out, causing the animals to stand and stretch, yawning. Mino shook out his ears.

I also got to my feet, about to take the puppy out when the door opened and Renae entered, carrying in a tray.

“Good morning, Princess,” she said. “Here is your morning meal. Come with me Mino and Sphinx; time to go out.”

They both seemed excited to leave the room, bounding away.

I removed my gloves, setting them on the bed and rubbing my hands, feeling shy.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Better than fine.”

I held back a smile, and asked, “What will you do today?”

“Work for my allotted time, and then return to you straight away.”

I peered down at my toes as they dug into the soft rug of woven, colorful wool.

“What will you do, Psyche?”

I had no answer. Every morning I was awash in melancholy. Of all the times of day, mornings were the hardest for some reason. Perhaps it was knowing the day held no hope of seeing people. Just me, two animals, and the trees, who did not care for said animals.

“What is the matter?”

Could he not see it? “Loneliness, I suppose.”

He paused. “You are accustomed to companionship.”

“Are you not?”

“No.”

I frowned.

“On occasion,” he amended. “But not daily.”

It was hard to explain how I felt when we were so different, especially knowing it made no difference. Nothing would change. I meandered over to the tray and lifted the lid, picking at a ripe berry. Even its mix of sweet, tart juice on my tongue did not raise my spirits. The tea pot lifted, and a stream of steaming light brown liquid poured into a cup, followed by milk, then it moved toward me. My husband was serving me.

“Thank you.” I took it and added a large drizzle of honey. “I’ll feel better after some tea.” I held the cup in my hands and blew at the steam, feeling silly that he was probably watching me with pity. Assuming he felt pity for me. That was the ambiance he gave off anyway.

“I have to go.” He sounded regretful.

I took a tentative sip of the hot liquid and it immediately soothed me a fraction. “Have a good day at work.”

“I will tell Renae she can play games with you if you would like.”

“How generous of you.” I gave a small smile and he sighed before leaving.

Weren’t we the picture of domesticity?

Moments after he left, Mino came running back into the room, and I fed him. As I watched him, I battled the gloom inside me. I had never been prone to depressive bouts before I came here. As much as I wanted to climb back into bed, I would not let myself give in to the sadness. I went outside with Mino and Sphinx and ran with them, playing, even rolling down the hills with them. Strangely, not a single grass stain marred my silk stola.