Page 36 of Leviticus
“You don’t know that!” I stood, pressing my hands against the table and mirroring his stance.
“Yes, I fucking do, Ruth!” He yelled and I couldn’t help the wince on my face.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to yell at you, but, Christ woman, must you fight me so?” He sighed.
“How could you, Levi? How could you know what I understand and what I don’t? You don’t know anything. You don’t actually know me at all!” I pushed. I knew I should back off, that I should listen to my husband, to obey him, but I couldn’t. I was frustrated too.
“I do, though. I do know you,” he insisted.
“How? You haven’t spoken to me more than a handful of times since we got married. You don’t know me from any other woman in Zion!” I urged, my eyes welling up with tears at the stress of emotions rising within me.
“I don’t have to speak to you to know you,” he said lowly, quietly, like a threat.
“That’s utter crap, Levi,” I scoffed, the words muttered under my breath.
“Excuse me?” His words were barely more than a whisper, the shock of my words evident in his tone.
“You fucking heard me,” I said, just as lowly. I had never uttered a curse before, but he had cursed at me several times now, and perhaps it was fitting. I wanted him to know I meant just as much business as he did. I rolled my eyes. This sense of purpose, this sense of fortitude, rose within me unlike anything I had ever experienced. But it was happening, and I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t speak like this to anyone. Well, anyone save my sisters, and even then, it was only done in the strictest of privacy.
“Oh, ho, you are right there, lovely one,” he laughed almost humorlessly. “I definitely heard you. If you only knew…” His last words trailed off as though he were unwilling to voice whatever words came next and I felt that frustrated, that borderline rage boil up within me, spurring me on further. His hands fisted on the table again, clenching and unclenching. It should have scared me. My father had fisted his own hands like that as a precursor to his particular version of discipline. But I wasn’t afraid of Levi. There was no fear in this situation for me. There was hurt. There was frustration. There was…
There was passion.
“This is exactly what I mean, Levi! Just talk to me!” I yelled back, my hands lifting in the air, gesturing wildly to match the wild swing of emotions his words and action were racking over me.
“No.” The single word was a statement, not an option or a question. There was zero hesitation on his part.
“Yes, dammit!” I stomped my foot as I cursed, uncaring at the kind of wife I was portraying at this moment. How did he go from this passionate, wild man last night, to the caring, giving human in the bathtub, to the soft-spoken man this morning, and now this beast of a man, full of obstinance and stubbornness? It was maddening.
“Watch. Your. Tone.” His words were stated slowly, calculated and threatening. Yet, somehow, that threat only pushed me forward.
“Or. What?” I responded in kind, pushing that threat away and playing with fire.
Oh, I was definitely playing with fire. His eyes sparked with a flame, not unlike the one I had seen last night. I knew this Levi. This was a version of him I wanted more of.
“Or you won’t like what happens,” he threatened, his eyes never leaving mind. No, that wasn’t a threat. That was a promise. Why was I continuing to push him?
“Try me,” I stated slowly. I wanted to make sure he heard me and felt just how serious I was. I wasn’t afraid of him.
“No.” Again, that single statement made me want to grab him and smack him. Or kiss him. Or…
“Why not?” I all but whined.
“Because you are an innocent and you simply couldn’t handle the things that I want.” His statement hung in the air for a moment. Then another, before I finally spoke.
“Try. Me.” My words were just as slowly stated and calculated as his has been. And then I put the icing on the cake. “I dare you.”
I quirked a single eyebrow up in challenge and I saw the change. I saw the way his eyes widened just for a moment as he took in my challenge and rose to the occasion.
“Fine, if you’re so sure, if you think you’re ready to take on this level, then we will talk. Tomorrow evening after dinner. You have my word,” he spoke firmly, with an air of finality, but I wasn’t finished.
“Why not now? Why don’t we talk tonight?” I urged.
“Because I don’t want to. I don’t have it in me to have this discussion right now. But I promise you, and hear me clearly on this, if you still really want to know, we will talk tomorrow. No matter what.” With that, he took his plate to the kitchen sink and stalked away from me.
I heard the study door close firmly, more like slam, only a moment later.
Fine, if he wanted to be all surly sourpuss, then I would let him. For now.
