Page 137 of Reflections of Peonies
“I don’t want anyone to get jealous,” I warned him.
He sighed and pulled me into his arms. “They’ll get over it,” he muttered into my hair. “They should be used to it, anyway. I’ve always been the first. Without you, there’s no other reason for me to exist.”
I clenched my fist against his chest and fought the butterflies in my stomach. Because while the admission was romantic, well…
Wasn’t this the very definition of codependency? “That’s not very healthy.”
He grinned against my ear. “Yes, you’ve never been one for flowery words. I’ve been amusing myself lately, imagining what you’ve been thinking about Damen’s flirtations—”
Well, that wasn’t fair. I only thought kind things.
“—and it brings me great joy to know that aspect of you hasn’t changed.”
“What makes you think I get annoyed?” I asked him. “You’re not an empath.”
“No,” Julian replied. “But necromancers can read a person’s bodily reactions, especially internal cues like a racing heartbeat, muscle tension, and surges of hormones. I deeply enjoy reading your reactions to Damen’s actions.”
I frowned at the ground and said, “That’s mean.”
His chest moved against my cheek as he chuckled darkly under his breath. Still, he didn’t respond.
I could feel his heart racing, and my cheek was warm against his chest. It was quiet, and the room grew darker as the daylight turned to dusk. How long had we even been here?
But the air between us soothed with contentment, and I didn’t want this peace to end.
“We should go back.” Julian sighed, running his fingers through my hair. “The others are probably worried.”
Why did he have to ruin everything?
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I know.” Julian’s movements stopped, concern heavy in his voice. “Why are you scared?” Before I could answer, he had already continued. “Do you think they’ll blame you?”
“You said it’s not my fault,” I answered. “But if I’d just—”
“Bianca,” he interrupted. “What do you feel from me?”
Goosebumps broke out over me, and I shivered. It was cold, and I closed my eyes, pushing myself further into Julian’s embrace. His pulse raced under my cheek, and I listened to his soft breath as my thoughts tentatively traveled over the emotions pouring off him.
But no matter how hard I focused, I couldn’t find it.
Where was the judgment? Yet—
“You’re angry,” I pointed out. “You don’t even look angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry,” he said. “I’m angry that things have come to this. I’m angry that you’re afraid. I’m angry that you were in that situation and that it happened. And I’mextremelyangry about what’s happened since then.”
I shivered. Why was he continuing to ruin everything?
“But never am I angry atyou,” he repeated. His resolve echoed through me. “I know I don’t look angry, and it’s for a good reason. I’ve practiced. But don’t think I’m hiding from you because I’m not. And know this: no one—including Bryce, Brayden, or anyone else in that family has any negative thoughts about you, whether it be about Alyssa or your past.”
There was no hesitation or doubt. But still, I was concerned. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t stop you from blaming yourself about Alyssa,” he said—correctly guessing those concerns hadn’t been driven from my mind. “But Icanpromise they’ll be more upset about the situation than with you.”
But that wasn’t fair—no one besides me had been there. “But—”
“The only way you’ll know is by confronting it,” Julian said, rising to his feet and pulling me with him. “Isn’t it scarier to wonder what might happen than to face it head-on? Most of the time, what we imagine is worse than reality.”
