Page 78 of Ceremony of Lust

I race after him and trip, breaking my fall with my hands.

“Yael!” he roars, rushing back down. His hands slip under my arms as he lifts me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but he’s not convinced. His hand ghosts over me as his eyes search for any sign of distress. Then he crushes me against his chest.

“I can’t do this,” he breathes out, his fingers stroking my hair lightly.

“What’s wrong?” I plead, looking up to force his gaze to meet mine.

“Come with me,” he commands softly. “We have much to discuss.”

Reluctantly, I follow, watching the muscles of his broad back strain against the fabric of his black dress shirt. He seems thinner, but maybe it’s a trick of the eye. When he glances back to check on me, I notice the lines of exhaustion etched on his face.

He leads me to our bedroom and takes off his uniform, methodically stripping each piece from his body. He shoves his clothes in the hamper in the closet and then makes his way into the bathroom. The shower turns on, and I hear the glass door opening and then closing.

“Yael,” he calls out. “Come.”

I pull off my own T-shirt and shimmy out of the soft jersey cotton shorts I wear around the house before making my way into the bathroom.

When I open the door, Zev holds out his hand and guides me toward him, watching each of my steps with a careful eye.

“I’m not going to break,” I tease him. “I’ve been showering alone for three weeks.”

He looks up at me sharply. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. I should have been here taking care of you.” He pulls me against him, letting his hand trail over my softer lines. When he releases me, his eyes roam the length of my body, noting the slightly-more-than-subtle changes. He presses a hand against the slight swell of my belly and then skims it up to cup my breast. “You’ve changed so much,” he breathes out.

“So have you,” I say, cupping his cheek with my hand, letting my thumb brush against the rough beard. “You look tired.”

“What I’ve been doing hasn’t been easy,” he says cryptically. “I haven’t slept much.”

He turns his face, closes his eyes, and kisses my palm.

“Something has changed,” I say, confused.

“Everything has changed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I demand.

He moves past me, ignoring my question, and reaches for his shampoo.

“Talk to me,” I beg him, even as his silence continues.

“I have to leave again,” he says at last.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

My heart drops, and I back up until my butt hits the cold tile of the wall. Hot tears sting my cheeks, and I feel more cracks begin to form. “No,” I moan. “No, you cannot leave again.”

He steps forward, trapping me against the wall, his face inches from mine. “You asked me to do this, Yael. You asked me to do whatever I had to do to come back to you. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Zev,” I moan with a sob.

“I told you there was a price, sweetheart. It’s too late to back out now.”

He opens the door and steps out, leaving me shivering in the lukewarm spray.

I wash quickly, gathering the courage to face a man I don’t recognize. This isn’t the man I married, the man who moved heaven and earth to distance us from Ripley, or the man who called me last week talking about love.