Page 58 of A Summoned Husband

“Separating?” Asmodeus laughed.

“Yeah.” Wasn’t that the freaking plan or was I losing the plot here?

He stood and stalked over to me. His steps were fluid. They were the steps taken by something deadly that knew there was nothing to fear as he crossed the space between us. He stepped into me, backing me against the window and planting his hands on the glass beside my head.

I shrunk back, as much as I hated myself for it.

Asmodeus’ dark eyes looked terrifying as he boxed me in. “Don’t you feel it?”

“W-what?”

“The witch made a mistake. I don’t know what her plan was, but I know she hadn’t planned for this.”

I hated never knowing what was going on. “Planned for what?” My voice shook slightly, not in fear but with something else. A storm of emotions battling for the reins.

“We were bound before the spell, Eden. This force in my chest constantly pulls me to you. It battles my urge to persevere, regardless of your outcome. It gags the thoughts of undoing it all and leaving you behind. It colours my world in strokes of you, harsh brushes that should irritate me in the way they don’t blend with the ones already on my canvas and yet… nothing has ever been so beautiful to me. ”

“Why?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer.

“Because you were made for me, Eden. That key in your chest was always meant to be there.” He leaned in closer, the heat from his body like a sun that burned at my skin. “We were betrothed long before that book was even written.”

Betrothed?

I think the fuck not!

My palm pressed against his chest and I used every fibre in my being to ignore the tingles that passed through his flesh and made mine buzz. I shoved but it felt like pushing against a wall.

“I wasn’t betrothed to anyone!”

“Feel it, Eden.” He took a step toward me, pushing his knee between my thighs.

I closed my eyes as heat flooded my core. My head fell back, tilting up and away from him as I fought against the pull in my chest. The one I knew he was talking about but would never admit to.

The brush of his knee against me was a ghost of feeling. Something I knew I felt but was barely there. It was still enough to ignite me as my throat got tight and my stomach fluttered.

You are not his betrothed, Eden. You’re just a quirky millennial hermit who doesn’t even really believe in things like angels or demons anymore.

I might also just be bat-shit crazy.

“Feel it, Eden,” he repeated, the words breathed against my skin.

Swallowing did nothing to ease the tightness in my throat. My mouth opened, but I said nothing. The single word I wanted to say would make me feel like a hypocrite and a child. Because I did feel it and arguing against that felt stupid.

“Eden.” He slid his leg gently against me. “My wife.”

That title was a gong that rang through this illusion and brought me forcefully back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I shoved him.

He was stronger than me and my shove would do nothing to move him, but he stepped back anyway. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he took a step back, and then another. Our eyes locked.

“My plan now is to get you to admit everything you feel because now that you’ve unlocked my box, you’ve forced me to feel it too.”

Each breath was a struggle to pull into my lungs as my chest heaved. I panted like I was in heat, warmth still spreading through my belly as I shimmied against the glass until there was enough space between us that I felt safe enough to run from the room.

There had been a pull in my heart since he arrived in my house that night. It was always there, underneath the fear. That thought rocked through me as I ran up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door behind me.

In all my life, I had never believed I was meant to love anyone. Soulmates were a cozy idea people used to comfort themselves when the hardships of real life and the struggles of relationships weighed them down.

It wasn’t real.