Page 195 of Remnants: Disruption
“No,” I shake my head a little. “Well, yes. Yes I do.”
She, of course, asks the next logical question.
“On me?”
My answer is immediate. “Never. Not once—the minor siphons that put you to sleep were my Remnant powers. Not vampiric.”
She studies me for far longer than I would like.
“If I had,” I start, wondering if I’m digging myself into a deeper hole, “I would not haveaskedfor the knife. I would have told you to give it to me.”
That gets her attention. She lets out a short gasp, grey eyes widening.
“I—” she stammers out, cheeks reddening.
“I have never lied to you, my love,” I whisper, pressing another kiss to her forehead, then her nose. “I will not start now. I do use the power on others, but even if I were to try on you, it would not work. You are far too exceptional.”
She blinks a few times, maybe parsing out the information, maybe just sleepy. “Can you still try?”
I let out a soft snort at her brazen behavior. At her undaunted reactions to things that she had never known existed a month ago.
“If you wish,” I say.
The power comes naturally—it always does. And, as it does with every living being, the power identifies her aura. Her presence.
She shifts a little as I brush my fingers against the pulsating presence. Her eyes refocus on me as I try to plunge my will into hers.
Her eyes flinch, but nothing happens.
“Did you do it?” she asks, and I cannot help the laugh that trickles out of me.
“Yes,” I whisper, pulling her closer. “I tried to force you to touch my face. It was like bouncing off a stone wall.”
Her lithe fingers appear from beneath the sheets and curl around my jaw, brushing softly against my lower lip. She reveals the sharpened incisor, studying it silently.
“You are so beautiful,” she breaths, releasing my lip with a littlepop. “I wish you had revealed yourself earlier.”
I heave out a deep sigh, nodding slowly. “It took everything in me to not interfere with your bouts of—”
“Self-harm,” she finishes, dropping her eyes. “Or maybe was it when I was crushing on a woman who never wanted me in life and only ever realized she was a problem in death?”
I close the space between us and let my tongue answer her. She groans softly as her built up tension melts.
“The weeks just before the first killings were the worst,” I say, studying the way her eyes have glassed over. “You were so sad and alone. I wanted you to feel desired. I wanted you to know that there was someone who saw you for you. For the power and the person.”
She sniffs like she might start crying. Her beautifully tousled hair and expressive eyes. Silver orbs that feel as though they see more to me than anyone else has. That they might see more than any other being should.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I say, watching the way her eyes crinkle as she thinks. “Even though I truly did not deserve it.”
Arya’s wet huff of laughter is followed by an impish smile. “There were several times where I wanted to wring your neck. When you ambushed me in the bathroom, I nearly tried it.”
I suck in a sharp breath at the embarrassing memory. “I admit that was poorly done. I was worried about you.”
Her smile softens. “I know—now at least. I get it, though. The whole facade you put on.”
She must see the frown on my face, because she lets out another laugh.
“Maybe it’s not a facade, but it’s a mask. It’s the mask of a warrior and a leader. A woman who has seen far too much death and decay to let anyone close enough.”
