Page 160 of Aftershock
Because instead of eating breakfast like we used to, Alaric fed me earlier with little sips of a protein shake through my gags.
“Are you okay?” He tips his head, concern bleeding from him. I see how much this is tearing him up too. “Can you hear me?”
God. He makes it impossible to stay frustrated when he’s trying so hard. Washing me, tending to me, caring about my feelings. They’re all signs that I matter to him.
If only he could stop worrying that I might disappear at any moment because of what I witnessed in his storage unit.
I get where he’s coming from. When I was eighteen, and my thoughts about him shifted from gratitude to something else, I worried day and night that he might be seeing someone. That by the time I came back to New York, it’d be too late.
So, yeah, his fear is understandable.
And still, it’s upsetting.
Honestly, I don’t think I’m doing that great.
My heart is as raw as it’s ever been.
I’m scared, too. Less for myself than for him. For what this is doing to him.
For what it might do to us.
Oh, God, I need Alaric to be okay so badly.
“Would it help if you took a nap? I can wait.” His thumbs draw long, smoothing circles over the insides of my wrists. “Lilith.”
I’m here,I want to tell him.But I need a second.
Taking a deep breath, I turn my head and look out at the city skyline.
A sliver of sunlight cuts through the cloudy sky. Farther away, I catch a glimpse of red, orange, and golden treetops.
Fall is beautiful in New York.
I remind myself that soon, very, very soon, Alaric and I will experience it together.
In the afternoons, we’ll walk through Central Park while leaves crunch beneath our feet. We’ll sit by café windows with coffee warming our hands and watch the city rush past outside. And at night, we’ll cuddle on the couch while horror movies play on the screen, the first ones I’ll ever watch thanks to Alaric.
While I’m lost in thought, Alaric has shifted his hold on me so that both my hands are in one of his much larger ones.
“I’m sorry.” With a finger under my chin, he turns my face back to his. Those eyes, those deep-set blues, burrow into my soul. “For sedating you. For holding you captive.” His gaze flickers to my mouth. “For these goddamn gags.”
It’s torture to see him agonizing over this. Knowing he considers himself to be an undeserving monster is like being stabbed by a million knives.
The cutting ache doesn’t center in my chest, or anywhere in particular in my body. It spreads outward, clogging my throat, making my stomach sink.
A kidnapper doesn’t deserve mercy, love, or compassion.
Except Alaric isn’t just any kidnapper. He’s mine.
And he needs me to comfort him.
Since talking is out of the question, I twist one of my hands, stroke the inside of his palm with my thumb, and nod once.
It’s fine.
“It isn’t fine.” Heat blooms in my chest because, like always, he reads my mind.
Most of my thoughts anyway. The ones that matter the most are invisible to him. Either that, or he refuses to believe them.
