Page 20 of Welcome Home
“Bottom of the ocean? Vegas? The living room, maybe?” I retort, knowing deep down prodding at some unknown creature using my dead husband as a skinsuit isn’t a good plan of action. Despite the nonsensical urge to trust him, that he’ll do exactly as he’s promised… keep me safe. I have no reason to feel that way, and every reason to assume I’m next in line on his list of outfit choices.
His wavy hair shifts as he cocks his head to stare at me, deepening it somehow. “Will you come with me?”
“To?”
“The bottom of the ocean. If I sink myself to the deepest depths, will you follow?”
I stare for a moment bewildered before spinning on my heel, attempting to wrench the seal from the bottle as I stalk back towards the bedroom.
He follows. “Have I not done the same for you?”
My brow furrows as I struggle with the bottle, my breath leaving me in a gasp as the warmth of his chest presses against my back, his strong arms encasing me. “Have I not risked everything to be by your side?” He whispers, his breath fanning my neck, making every hair stand on end.
He may be a perfect replica of a human, but my body knows he’s everything but. There’s something innatelyotherabout him, dangerous. Terrifying in a way Oliver never was. The pads on his fingers follow the lines of my arms. The dark hair that used to grow there is back. No reason to wax it. It’d never even occurred to me it was anything but natural until Oliver implied it wasn’t. Grown woman Cora learned soon enough that he was a self-serving, self-obsessed lying prick but to a love-struck nineteen-year-old girl… that was life altering. Opening the door to the self-discovery of so many flaws I’d never noticed before or had found comfort and peace with, at least. He only had to mention it once. Just a few words hidden behind a bright, endearing smile. The first pinprick in a volley of stab wounds he’d inflict on what little self-love I had to spare.
This Oliver doesn’t budge caressing the skin as if it’s an honor. Something to be revered. A moment to bask in. God help me, I let him bask. “It certainly would solve every problem I have if I followed you into the ocean.” I breathe out, fighting the urge to sink into him.
“Not if I didn’t let it.”
Moment gone.
“So, you’re a fish then?” I deadpan attempting to jerk away, only for those strong arms to tighten, his hands encapsulating mine over the neck of the bottle.
“I am many things and nothing at all, my greatest love. I would become anything for you. If this skin does not please you, when it's safe, I will shed it. You can choose the next one.”
My heart pounds in my chest as he grips my hand, using it to easily pop free the seal on the bottle, making quick work of the cap. “What about you? What doyoulook like?” The words leave me in a whisper as he lifts the bottle to my lips, offering me a drink. I take it, goosebumps dotting my flesh. The moment the bitter wine flows down my throat, warmth blooms in my chest.
“That… is a conversation for another day.” The new coldness in his voice lashes at me, and this time when I pull away, he doesn’t fight it. Those golden eyes avoiding mine, a dust of color on his sculpted cheeks. The second swig of wine always goes down quicker than the first. This time is no different. I’m on my fourth by the time I settle back into my chair, the space still littered with papers. Though I feel much less compelled to read any of it now, my chart ofmost likely creatures to be rooming withlooks like a cracked-out conspiracy theorists wet dream.
He's watching me again, but this time thanks to the wine, no doubt, I don’t avoid his eyes. I meet them. “What are you?”
He frowns, the action disagrees with the upward tilt of his lips. “You’ve done so much work, I’d hate to spoil the surprise.”
Another long drink.
“Enough games. What are you?”
His smirk grows, but it’s fake, oh so fake. He’s a perfect replica of Oliver, even more so with that fucking smile. “I think a game is the perfect idea, my love.”
Drink.
“I am not-“
“My love? You’re right, that word doesn’t come close to describing the fire you’ve lit in my soul. My every cell burns for you, Cora, mybeingburns for you.”
My eyes slam to the floor as heat flushes my cheeks. Another long swig leaves me coughing. “A game you said?” I clear my throat, still refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge a single thing he said despite those words rattling around in my chest. Battering a long abused and tattered heart. His eyes are on me, as they usually are, but this feels different. The otherness to the perusal weighing down my chest. A being that’s walked the Earth for hundreds of years is…infatuated with me. That kind of attention is bound to damn me straight to fucking hell.
“You guess things about me, what I am, where I came from, what I look like… for each thing you get wrong, you remove a piece of clothing. For each you get right, I do.”
I scoff. “Bold to assume I’d want to see you naked. Been there, done that.”
“Oh, I’m all too aware. I spent many nights in those memories. The only thing is you haven’t a clue how wellIcould use him. His cock is nice enough. I’ve often wondered what yourrealmoans will sound like.”
Another drink.
This one emboldens me, just a little too much. “Was it terribly obvious I was faking?”
“He was always too busy looking at himself to notice.”
