Page 128 of Elysian

He pushed up with grunts and groans as he positioned himself at the head of the bed, hissing as he favored his side. “I just need rest.” He reached over and grabbed my ankle, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.

As I tried to move, the bed squealed. With little scoots, I dragged myself closer to the knot. No matter how I touched and moved it, I could not slide my finger into it. I toiled for a long while until exhaustion from holding my arms over my head burned my limbs.

I stopped trying.

Cassiel’s soft chuckle left me seething and a mess, reeling over the trembling in my belly.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Regret

Igently scrubbed Cassiel’s back, scanning his skin under the three candles I had lit. Droplets of onyx blood trickled down the pale flesh stained with withering. The dark lines stretched so far and wider than before. It had progressed as I lay bound on the bed. I watched it happen throughout the fresh candlewick burning until what was left was embers. All the attempts at waking him had been for naught. I’d thrashed, kicked, bucked, but nothing woke him, and none of it helped me loosen the bindings. As soon as he woke, we found a puddle of black blood beneath him, dried lines trickling down his sides. He’d promptly gotten up and turned the water on, then came to untie me with an abrupt, ‘Bathe me.’

He had been contemplative, quiet, since he’d sank into the water, and he kept watching me in such an odd manner. I shuffled to the side so I was not within his view.

“I was unkind to you many times,” he breathed, head tilted back. “Worse.”

A knot formed in my throat. “I cannot deny it.” Instead of it being an accusation, sadness seeped into my tone.

The strain on his face had deepened, and his cheekbones jutted sharply. I had not realized that the stain beneath his eyes had become so prominent. His eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. Candlelight flickered on the surface of his eyes.

“Amara . . .” I paused from running the soap bar over his shoulders. His features twisted with strain. “I . . . regret hurting you.” His throat bobbed. “And I will never forget what I have done.”

Upon closing his eyes, moisture trickled from the corners. Breathing turned difficult. His emotion radiated toward me.

“I do not know what to say,” I whispered.

“There is nothing needed.” He raised his head.

“If I do not claim you, you will continue withering.”

“And in my death, I would not be able to keep you tethered to life.” He raised his head and turned to look me in the eye. “Take this eve to think about it. If your answer remains the same, we will move forward in spite of my . . . reservations.” Despite me not saying I cared for him. “I will live with your loathing if I must.”

Words crowded, refusing to escape. Things like: I do not loathe you and stop being a fool.

I jerked my chin down in a nod instead.

His head tilted, and eyes squinted. “Someone approaches.”

I set the bar aside and dried my hands on the bottom of my gown. A knock came at the door, and I walked toward it.

Tabby stood on the other side.

“Oh, I am sorry to have interrupted.” She eyed the damp dress. I waved her off. She held out a brown box with a second one stacked on top. “Clothes for tonight. We would like you both to attend.” She smiled wide. “We will be hosting a dinner in both of your honors. A celebration of sorts.”

“There is no need⁠—”

“We have not had many things to be excited for. Consider it a gift to us.” Tabby’s kind eyes didn’t waver.

Archer’s lumbering shadow shuffled, bringing my focus to him leaning on the opposite wall.

“I will be there,” I said. She didn’t miss the pointed ‘I’. With how weak Cassiel was, he would not want to attend gatherings. When he was well, he wanted it even less.

“Be ready for supper. I will send someone to fetch you.”

“I will be ready,” I promised.

“I will let you return to your bath.” She wiggled an eyebrow at me.