Page 89 of Forbidden Empire
Could we ever exist together without keeping score?
I knew why he'd turned into a human ice sculpture; the whole Zeno's box situation and my vanishing act afterward.
The betrayal lived rent-free in his mind, filed away with all his other grievances, preserved like precious artifacts in a museum of resentments. Yet for all his emotional frigidity, his body had different ideas. The second we were alone, those hands would find me, contradicting every icy glare from earlier in the day.
Then, as soon as the moaning and panting died down and the night got bulldozed by the sunrise, he slid right back into his usual cold, distant routine. It was clockwork, every single time.
Daylight was starting to piss me off.
Every morning, it woke me up, all smug and bright, to rub it in: body satisfied, bed empty.
Like clockwork, when I saw Aidon after, he’d pretend nothing had happened between us. No glances. No words. No mention of how the night had ended.
It was like bodily fluids and feelings, especially feelings, never existed.
Last night? Same story.
We fought, fell into bed, and by the time daylight crept back in, he was gone like a ghost.
I spent the entire day dodging him because every time his eyes landed on me, I wanted to scream in his face.
Now here we were, tucked away in his ensuite bathroom, getting ready for bed all over again.
The air was thick enough to choke on, tension crackling between us.
I knew how this would play out: the second he stepped out of the shower, we’d fight, then we’d fuck, then we’d sleep, and then tomorrow morning we’d both pretend none of it ever happened.
Classic.
I also knew I wouldn't say a word tonight, even as the silence between us grew thick enough to cut.
We'd dance around it like always. Aidon would sooner walk naked through the Vegas Strip than volunteer his feelings first. The man kept his emotions under triple-encrypted lockdown.
I'd need a team of professional hackers to access a smile.
The only message that came through loud and clear was his iron-clad conviction that my safety belonged to him, like he'd signed some cosmic contract with my name on it that I never got to read.
I couldn't keep lying to myself about this. Every day felt like another round in a boxing match where neither of us would tap out.
My muscles ached from the constant tension, my mind exhausted from calculating my next move. I leaned against the counter, listening to the shower run, trying to summon whatever energy I had left.
This thing between us had an expiration date. Once Rhea was handled and the dust settled, I'd slip away.
Right now, we were useful to each other.
I wasn't stupid enough to deny that, but his constant hovering, the way his eyes tracked me across rooms?
That would have to end. His protection came with too high of a price tag. Only a fool would mistake this intensity for something sustainable, something real.
Whatever this was between us. This collision of bodies, this addiction, it had an expiration date stamped on it.
The tangle of feelings in my chest was nothing but chemical aftershocks, my body's way of making sense of pleasure that intense. I'd felt it before. I'd forget it again.
The shower squeaked off.
I tensed, listening to water droplets hitting tile, wishing I could fast-forward through whatever came next, the inevitable crash after the high.
Aidon stepped out from behind the shower door, steam curling around him. Water traced down his body, following every line, every dip, like it knew where it wanted to go.
