Page 24 of Creatures Like Us

But as long as he’s still looking at me the way he is—as long as his hand is damp and warm on my cheek—I don’t even care.

His thumb slides over my cheekbone, catching a stray tear, and?…?It’s gone. Back into the water.

“Bath’s going cold,” he says, gaze dropping.

Has it been that long? Talking feels strange, and I have to think for an extra-long time to find my words. “Are you ready to get dressed?”

Asher glances at his pile of dirty clothes on the floor. “Not in those rags, I’m not.”

“I could?…?bring you some of mine. Once you’re back by the bed.”

“Once I’m back with the chain around my wrist, you mean?”

“Yes,” I say, barely a whisper.Get a hold of yourself. He’s clearly over that moment, and you should be too.

He looks at me with his familiar, suspicious glare as I rise and bring him a towel. When he unplugs the drain, water swirls in tiny rivulets, and all our previous emotions spiral down with it.

“Well?” Asher says. “Are you going to watch me?”

“Oh.” I avert my gaze and close my eyes as well for good measure. Asher turns on the shower nozzle, and I hear him standing up and rinsing himself off before he wraps himself in the towel.

“Well?”

I snap my eyes open. “Yes?”

He stands there, torso bare, with the towel around his narrow hips. “Don’t you need the knife to escort me back?”

“Right.” I bend to pick it up from the floor.

I’m cutting it close, I know. Giving him too many openings to strike. Were he of sound body and mind, maybe he would have, but as luck would have it, he’s not; he’s sick. And something about me picking the knife up seems to have made him angry too.

I motion at the brand-new toothbrush packet by the sink. He glares at me in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth. To be fair, it’s hard to look intimidating with foam dripping down your chin, but he keeps up his glaring act when I motion for him to exit the bathroom as well.

His footsteps are heavy as he makes his way back to the bed. He holds his arm up without me having to say anything, allowing me to wrap the chain around his wrist and fasten the padlocks.

I watch him lie down on his back, the reattached chain clinking and rattling. I’m not sure what I did to make him so upset with me again.

“Why do you look at me like that?” he asks after a while.

“How?”

“Like you’re?…?disappointed or something. What did you expect would happen after you chained me back to the wall?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you want me to smile at you?”

“No,” I mumble, and my throat thickens again. Asher is doing something weird to my insides.

“This isn’t right, you know.”

“I know.”

“You do?” He glares at me, eyes blazing. It hurts, his fury. More than I’d like to admit. “Then why are you doing it?”

I swallow thickly. “You know why.”

He points at the knife. “Go ahead—slit my throat and be rid of me. Or give it here, and I’ll do it myself.”