Page 76 of The Fake Divination Offense
His eyes screamyou, and his face fills with so much hope, so muchneed.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t react until Ilbryen breaks in with, “Belzaroth? What do you think?”
Both he and I whip toward her.
“You—you’d allow this?” he asks, faltering.
She pulses one eyebrow in the barest shrug. “Mr. Monroe has been vetted by our teams—it’s why we permitted your PR arrangement to continue after you’d agreed to it. His lifestyle does allow for a level of security our current handlers are unable to provide, and his knowledge of the cultists’ rituals could be beneficial as well. We would reassign the new handler you would’ve been given to be more of awatch from afarsituation, similar to how we watched over you before your full protective custody—but, Belzaroth, that does not mean this situation is less dire. Merely that Mr. Monroe is an active member of your security team rather than a mere caretaker.”
“Yes,” I say. “Whatever you need me to do.”
“Plus,” Ilbryen carries on, “it is easier to keep tabs on those we protect if they’re somewhere theywantto be. This option is far better than a…shack in the woods, hm? Or”—she waves dismissively, like it really doesn’t matter one way or another—“Gulus fires up a memory alteration spell, and Mr. Monroe leaves here thinking you’ve broken up with him before you move away.”
I stop myself from barking out an argument. It’d gut me, but if that’s what Bel wants, I’ll submit to it.
Tem fumes. “You’re making a mistake. This guy’s untrained. He’s not an adventurer; he’s going to get the target killed.”
“If I were you, I’d be more concerned with your own performance, Raussec,” Ilbryen snaps.
His eyes pulse, face twitching with fury. He seems to realize he’s not just been beaten, but is very likely about to lose his job.
He storms past us and out of the suite, the door banging shut behind him, Gulus’s arcane wall dropping in his absence.
Bel still hasn’t responded. I tug gently on his hand, pulling his focus back to me.
He’s guarded, wary, like maybe this is too good to be true. It gives me enough reassurance to keep trying.
“I want you to live with me. But I also want you to be comfortable with this. I have a guestroom, so you wouldn’t have to—wewouldn’t have to—it could be whatever you want it to—”
He throws himself at me.
I catch him, crushing him to me in a way that has to knock the wind out of him, but he burrows against me.
“Yes,” he says. “Gods,yes.”
I’m grinning like a fool. Like all my obsessive compulsions got exactly what they’re clawing after.Him.
A shudder of concern flurries through me. This isn’t…healthy, is it?
He needs the security I can offer. Heneedsprotection.
He needs me.
And gods, thinking that has my whole fucked-up being sighing happily, all the effort I put into keeping myself at bay losing its footholds against the torrential rush of satisfaction.
Years of fighting to better myself.Yearsof putting up boundaries and compartmentalizing and being so aggressivelygood.
It’s all gone because of one impossible situation, one man in my arms who’s become astonishingly important to me.
I should fight it, at least a little bit. Iknowbetter.
But something about the way Bel’s holding me as forcefully as I’m holding him has me feeling like maybe this fixation isn’t entirely one-sided. Maybe my consuming, stratospheric-level obsessive behavior won’t be unmatched.
I meet Ilbryen’s eyes over Bel’s shoulder. She nods at me, a small smile on her face, breaking through her icy facade.
Pretty sure this is exactly what she wanted to happen. That I got manipulated.
Fuck if I care.
