Page 7 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

He glanced back toward the bedroom where Aleysia slept and back. “Has she never been intimate with a man around you? While you were sleeping?” he asked, assuming that was my concern right then. Of course he’d presume such a thing. He was the one determined to stay, no matter what.

In his mind, there was no conflict. He’d made his stance clear.

“Even if she had, I’d say the circumstances are quite different.

” I lowered my gaze to his chest, picking at a loose string on his tunic.

“But that’s not what troubles me. We don’t know what’s going to happen yet and I think we should wait.

At least until she wakes. If she wakes.” It was futile arguing with him on the matter, but one, or both of us, would undoubtedly have a hard decision to make.

Whether it was him having no choice but to return—regardless of his insistence on staying—or me having to decide what to do if Aleysia wouldn’t wake.

“Clearly, you have no idea how irresistible you are if you imagine I can lie next to you even one night without the longing to touch you.” He rolled onto his back and tucked his bent arm beneath his head again.

“How can I convince you that the only thing that could possibly force me away from you is death? And even then, I’d find a way to get back to you. ”

“I don’t need you to convince me of that.

The fact that you’re here speaks to the kind of man you are.

But we can’t control fate. And my heart will not allow me to watch you die to protect me, so perhaps I will be the one forced to make the difficult decision.

For now, I’m only asking that we pause a moment. Gain some clarity.”

His lips pulled into a solemn smile. “I can’t decide if I’m more impressed by your beauty or your logic.

” The smile faded as he turned to look at me, and gods, if he only knew that behind the “logic,” as he’d called it, behind the resignation, was a girl who longed to get swept away in the safety of his embrace.

Who longed to savor the sweetness of her first experiences with him, without all the chaos and confusion.

“It isn’t staying to protect you that’s going to kill me. It’s staying away from you.”

My heart gnawed at my chest. “It’s temporary, I promise.” I gave a quick glance toward Aleysia’s room. “Besides, are you not put off by an audience?”

His brow flickered, his gaze snapping from mine.

A shadow of unease darkened his eyes, and it was in that moment that a very grim suspicion twisted my stomach with remorse.

As I recalled the scars—the marks of abuse he’d suffered—I couldn’t think of a single reason a man as apathetic and cold as Zevander would’ve reacted otherwise.

Part of me wanted to be so bold and cruel as to ask him outright.

Instead, I swallowed back the question that lingered like chalk on my tongue. “I’m sorry?—”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about. You’re right. It was wrong of me to suggest touching you that way.”

Wrong?

In one split second, his whole demeanor had changed. He pushed up from the floor, but I reached out to grab his arm.

“It wasn’t wrong of you to suggest anything. Please don’t get up. Lie with me.”

His brows creased, as if he was torn, but instead, he twisted away from me, stoking the flame again.

My words had troubled him. Perhaps triggered a memory of his past. Rather than press him and risk saying something ignorant, I changed the subject. “I’m just going to wash up a bit. I’ve not yet had the chance since earlier.”

He winced and set the heel of his palm to his temple, his eyes screwed tight. Hostility burned in them when they reopened. “What did you say just now?”

Confused, I thought back to what I’d said. “I just said I haven’t had the chance to wash.”

“After that.” He shoved the iron back into the rack beside the hearth.

“Nothing. What did you hear?” I glanced down to see his hand trembling at his side as he flexed his fingers, tightening them to a fist and opening them again. Over and over, tightening and opening.

“It no longer matters.”

I kept my eyes on his fist. “But you’re clearly upset at something you believe I said. What was it?”

Perhaps sensing my staring, he ran a hand over his jaw, the malice in his eyes never waning.

“Please tell me.”

His jaw ticced, and he looked away, lips twisted in disgust. “ Sordesz vet signe da’servio,” he said through clenched teeth. “ Filth is the mark of the slave .”

I frowned at the words. “And you believe I said this?” When he didn’t answer, I kept on, “Shouldn’t I be the one to find insult in those words, seeing as I’m the one who’s filthy?”

His angry gaze dipped to my stomach and back.

For the second time that evening, I paused, realization dawning on me. I placed my hand against my stomach, where, beneath the shirt, his release from when we had last been together had dried onto my skin. “You believe I’m calling you filthy? Because of what you?—”

He strode toward the window. “I’ll keep watch while you wash.”

I couldn’t stand the thought of him believing I’d spoken those words to him, though. I refused to let them linger between us. I stepped toward him, a bitter heat warming my cheeks. “Could you fathom such cruel words passing my lips?”

Conflict burned in his eyes, his brows pulled tight.

“Someone else spoke those words to you once, though.”

He didn’t bother to look at me. “I’m finished with this conversation. Carry on with your washing.”

“No. I will not. Not while my character is in question.”

Without a word, he twisted away from me.

“Zevander!”

“Enough!” He winced, clearly regretting having raised his voice but the tension in his neck and jaw remained rigid as before. “I imagined it.”

“And still, you can’t even bring yourself to look at me, which means you still question whether or not I said it.”

Silence.

I stepped closer, hands fidgeting. “Zevander, what happened between us was the most rapturous experience of my life.”

“I sullied you the moment I touched you.” He stared down at his palms. “The filthy hands of chattel,” he muttered so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it.

Chattel?

I stood dumbfounded by his words, so erratically different from his usual confident and even slightly arrogant tone.

As if I were speaking to someone else entirely.

“You didn’t sully me. And if that is what you are so determined to believe, then know that I quite enjoyed it.

I would happily allow you to sully me again, were it not so awkwardly timed.

” I stepped closer. “I’ve no idea what’s stirring in your head right now, but please do not imagine that I harbor any regret for earlier.

I may lack experience, but I don’t lack the capacity to choose for myself.

And I don’t appreciate the implication that I am some helpless damsel so easily lured by the wolf. ”

He sighed and glanced back at me. “I meant no insult.”

“Neither did I.”

“Then we agree to end this discussion.”

“Agreed.” For now .