Page 62 of Grim and Oro
Guilt stabs me through the chest. I tense my jaw. Exactly one month. Had she been counting the days, like I had?
“I was preoccupied,” I finally admit.
It’s true. The scar has widened. I’ve had to visit it nearly every day.
But it’s not the only reason I stayed away. No, that has more to do with the fact that I knew if we kept seeing each other, I would do something stupid, like put my realm at risk.
She’s proving to be more a danger to my realm than the dreks are. She’s my enemy. I should hate her.
I hate myself for how much I don’t hate her.
She scoffs. “What could be more important than finding the sword?”
“Not more important, simply more ... pressing.”
She’s angry. I can feel it, flames against my skin. “You could have told me. You could have visited at least once ... allowed me to tell you what I learned.”
If only she knew how every night I had to force myself to stay in bed. To not visit her.
I raise a brow at her. “Miss me, Hearteater?”
Admit it. Tell me how you feel. Rip this barrier between us once and for all. Let me lose my mind.
She doesn’t. She huffs. “No. Every time I see you, I get injured or insulted.”
I frown. She’s right, isn’t she?
I focus on her hand and removing the glass. I shake my head. “What were you thinking?”
She sighs, and finally, she tells me the truth. “I was thinking I could find the sword without you.”
Then she does something else unexpected. She leans back against my chest, and it is far too pleasurable, far too familiar, to have her in my arms. I want to hold her tight and never let go. I want to run my lips along her jaw and down her neck. I want to bite her again.
If she had any idea the thoughts I have about her, she would be repulsed. She would never want to see me again.
Perhaps I should tell her.
“I went looking for you before,” she says, her voice a rasp, in between bouts of pain.
“I know,” I admit.
“Who was that woman?”
There it is, again. The jealousy.
Of Astria?
I almost laugh.
If only she knew who the general was, perhaps she wouldn’t feel so much animosity. For a moment, I want to tell her.
But I cannot.
“She’s my general,” is all I say, some part of me shriveling at the fact that I am keeping so much from her. I have no choice.
“Does she suspect ... ?”
“I told her you were someone I found to bed from another realm.”
