Page 92 of King of Ashes
He runs his nose along my cheek and whispers in my ear, “You like danger.”
Goose bumps pepper my skin, remaining even after he releases me and I suck in a much-needed breath.
“Have we met before?” I ask before I lose the courage, before he sweeps me away and drugs my brain with pleasure until I am too high on endorphins to care about anything else.
He leans back like a king on a throne, imposing and calculating. “What do you think?”
He’s cruel and too damn astute. I thought I could trap him, but I might have better luck capturing a wild animal.
“Answer me,” I grit out, my voice demanding.
“Answer me first,” he says in a matter-of-fact voice.
The flight attendant approaches with refreshments, and I pluck a glass of sparkling water from the tray.
I toss my drink back. “What are we? Kindergarteners?”
After she places a drink in front of him, he dismisses her with a wave, his focus entirely on me—a heady feeling, no wonder I struggle to breathe in his nearness. “Let me ask you a hypothetical question.”
That piques my interest, and he notices.
“You are offered a second chance, a clean slate. In this scenario, you get everything you ever wished for back. You just have to look ahead.”
My frustration stirs to life, the question hitting too close to home. “What is it? An Orpheus retelling?”
“It’s a well-known tale, a warning. The closer you are to your goal, the more desperate you get.”
Eyes locked, a silent battle wages between us.
“I thought it’s about trusting.”
“Nothing good awaits when you look back. What would happen if, instead of focusing ahead while driving, you kept looking in the rearview mirror?”
“It’s good to assure yourself.”
“You would crash because you should be paying attention to what’s in front of you.”
A surge of frustration stirs in my belly, and I arch a brow, eyeing him intently. “Is this a question or a demand to forget the past?”
He twists his hand to reveal his palm. “A cautionary suggestion.”
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t suggest, Vian. You imply, and people obey.”
“Everyone but you, wife,” he says matter-of-factly.
This conversation leads nowhere, fueling my annoyance and doing nothing to ease my confusion.
“What are you afraid of? I married you. Whatever and whoever hides in the closet of my past shouldn’t affect us.”
“It does if I share you with them.”
He wants me all to himself, and as endearing as his possessiveness might sound, I relish having things for myself as well. It is healthy, considering I am dealing with a very consuming man.
“And you want a child,” I say incredulously.
“Immediately, if it were possible.” A mischievous gleam sparks in his eyes, and the atmosphere heats. If it weren’t for the contraception shot, he would have gotten me pregnant long ago.
“Afraid of losing me?”
