by Ruby Dixon
“Is there anything you miss?” He releases my breast and smooths soapy water over my shoulder. Is he washing me, then? Or just caressing? I sit up again, so he can do as he likes, and one big hand smooths up my back.
I moan at his touch, because it feels so good. “Hamburgers,” I murmur, hugging my knees and resting my cheek against them. “Big, fat, sloppy hamburgers. With cheese and extra pickles, mayo and mustard, tomatoes, lettuce, and a sesame seed bun. Bacon, too. Oh yeah, totally dripping with bacon.” And now I’m hungry.
Aron chuckles, rubbing the washcloth up and down my back. “It’s always food with you.”
“Hell yeah, it is. I’m always hungry. That’s your fault.” I smile.
His fingers dance up my spine, then the washcloth brushes at the cleft of my ass. “Because I keep you in my bed and use you until you are begging for relief? Because I make you come at least twice before I slake my own needs? Because I am not satisfied until your cunt clenches tight around my cock and pulls me deep?”
I suck in a breath at his words. “Well, there is that, but I meant I’m always hungry because I’m your anchor. I have to eat for both of us.” In fact, I could eat right now, but I’m too lazy to get out of the water, because it’s warm and a flirty, thoughtful Aron is irresistible as he washes me.
I love the sound of his lazy chuckle. It fills me with warmth even as he glides the cloth over my back. “Do you miss your world, then?”
I knew this question would come up eventually. If anything, I’m surprised he hasn’t asked sooner. I’m also a little surprised I haven’t thought about it more myself. Earth hasn’t been on my mind much in the last few days. My thoughts have been completely and utterly about Aron. “Do I miss Earth? I don’t know. I mean, I miss hamburgers and strawberry milkshakes and cars—remind me to tell you about cars sometime. But it’s more like that was the world I was familiar with. I knew Earth. I knew how to get around on Earth. I knew what I was doing, and I knew what my choices entailed. I feel out of my depth here, and some of the stuff Aos doesn’t have scares me a little. Like, say, health care. Do you guys follow the whole “slap a leech on it” method for sick people? Because I really can’t approve of that. And I shudder to think of what passes for a gynecologist in this world.”
Aron chuckles again. “Is that…a yes?”
“It’s an ‘I don’t know.’ It’s an ‘it’s complicated.’ I’m sure as time passes, there will be a lot of things I miss. But right now? Right here, I can’t think of anything.” I’m too lazy, too happy, too content to be in this bathtub with him, cradled between big thighs as he washes my back. “Is that a bad answer?”
“It’s an honest one,” he says, and then I feel him touch my shoulder, and he presses a kiss to it a moment later. “You can return to your world, you know.”
My heart gives a funny little flip. “Gee, can I? Because I’m your anchor and last I heard, those sorts of bonds were set in stone.”
“They are for most, but the Spidae are different. If anyone can sever the bond between a god and his mortal anchor, it would be them.”
This sounds perilously close to what the Spidae told me when I was alone with them…when they were trying to manipulate Aron and me both by separating us and questioning us. Why is this coming up now? I turn and give him a worried look. “Have you been talking to the Spidae, Aron? Did they tell you I need to go?”
He arches a brow at me, surprised at my vehement reaction. “No. I have not spoken to them. I have been at your side, remember?”
Right. He hasn’t left me alone in days. My speeding heart slows down a bit. “Good. I just…I don’t trust them.”
“No one does.” He gestures at his scarred chest. “Lean back so I can continue washing you.”
I start to, and then hesitate, biting my lip. “I don’t want to leave you, Aron. Not to go home. I’m with you until the end, until the day you leave me.”
His expression grows solemn, and he stares at my shoulders, carefully lifting my wet hair from my skin and easing it over one side. “Part of me wants this to be over, because I am powerless on this plane. I chafe at the idea that the High Father feels the need to ‘remake’ me because I was so broken before. But part of me…part of me wants this to go on forever. Just me and you, always.” And he reaches up and cups my face. “I do not know what happens after I win, Faith. I wish I did. I wish that was still in my memories, but I can see nothing of what happens once this is over.”
My heart aches. I know what happens. If the Spidae weren’t lying to me, it’s not good. None of this is good.
“But I am a god,” he continues, voice low but firm. “I am the lord of storms and god of battle. I will bring you to my side and keep you with me, always. You are mortal and unimportant to the rest of the world.” He squeezes the cloth over my shoulder, sending sudsy water down my skin. “But not to me. To me, you are everything.”
Everything but winning, I want to say, but I bite back the words. I don’t want to ruin this good thing we have here. I don’t want to ruin the perfect few moments we have together. I’m going to enjoy every single one of them.
“It will mean staying in my world,” Aron says as I settle in against his chest. He dips the cloth in the water and runs it over my breasts, giving my nipples extra-special attention so they stand up. “Would you stay here with me?”
“Always,” I tell him, and I mean it.
67
A week passes. Maybe more. I lose track of days. All I know is that I’m happy. Sure, we’re in a creepy tower, and the Spidae lurk around every corner, and we’re out of our traveling supply of food so we’re now eating whatever we find in the pods the Spidae have scattered around the keep.
But every morning, I wake up in Aron’s arms. Every night, I go to sleep in Aron’s embrace. Every day, we spend together—making love, talking, or laughing.
And that’s worth everything. I don’t care if a million days pass by. If they’re all like that, then sign me up.
It’s easy to forget the world outside of this tower. It’s so easy to forget that out there, in this strange world, dozens of Aspects are roaming the world, looking to put an end to anyone that has the same face. It’s easy to forget that our lives were—and still are—in danger. Here, we’re safe from the world because no one wants to cross the mountains and that awful lake. I’m still not entirely sure how our woales got on this side of the lake with our supplies. Every time I ask, Aron just laughs and says “not easily.”
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. If this is what happiness looks like, I’ll grab it with both hands.
One morning, though, I wake up to the sound of swords clashing. To male laughter. Aron isn’t in bed with me, and I frown to myself as I get up and pull on a robe. There’s no window in our room, but I know the sounds are coming from outside. I pad into the hall, where there’s a large, spiderweb-covered balcony and find Yulenna there. She nibbles on fruit, a pod half-opened in her arms.
“Hi Faith,” she says cheerily as I move to her side. “You hungry?” She offers me some fruit.
It seems that the pods are a bit more benign than I’d originally thought. The ones that we’ve split open have had a variety of food items—from vegetables to fruit—and though some had a bird or fish in them, it was alive. It’s like the spiders bring back food for the Spidae…who don’t eat.
It’s all very odd.
At any rate, the food has served us well enough, and I don’t feel weird about taking a handful of the small, purple cherry-like fruits and popping a few into my mouth. Down below, the men are sparring. Aron has a long sword in his hand and he’s got one arm tied behind his back, and he’s blindfolded. He’s fighting both Kerren and Markos and winning handily, it looks like. Each time one of them jabs, he’s there to parry it instinctively. As I watch, Solat creeps forward, half-hidden behind a large shield, readying to strike at Aron’s side. Before he can even get close, Aron whirls, knocks the shield free, and then spins around to block Kerren’s n
ext attack.
They all laugh, and I hear the words “I yield” float up as Markos grins.
Aron’s smiling, too. His face is lit up with pure, unadulterated joy, and sometimes I forget that he’s a battle god. He loves a fight. As I watch, Kerren approaches Aron and helps him remove his bindings. Aron slips off the blindfold and immediately looks up at the balcony to me.
He grins, utterly pleased.
I wave back at him, then lean over to Yulenna. “What’s this?”
“The men were bored so they started sparring. Aron must have heard it and joined them. They’ve been at it for hours.” Yulenna picks up another piece of fruit and eats it daintily. “They want to be ready for war.”
War? My good mood sours. Aron says something with the guys below and points at weapons, discussing. As I watch, Aron talks with Kerren, showing him a sword move and how to block. It’s clear Aron’s in his element.
I don’t want him thinking about war or battles.
“He is a god of war, though,” an eerie voice says behind me.
Yulenna gasps and steps closer to me. I grit my teeth, turning to look at the Spidae who stands in the background. He waits in the hall, watching us out on the balcony. The phrase “waiting like a spider in its web” springs to mind but I bite it back. “Don’t you have threads you could be pulling right now?”
The smile that curves his mouth is unfairly pretty. “I do. But I sensed your mood. There is no need to be angry over things you cannot change, Faithful.”
Faithful. That was what Tadekha called me. It irritates me to hear it, but I know why he’s doing it. He’s showing me just how much he knows. Yulenna cowers behind me and I glare at him. “I haven’t forgotten who Aron is, all right? I just want him to enjoy his time here. We’re supposed to be taking a break from all this shit.”
“He cannot ‘take a break’ from who he is. You must accept all of him or none.”
Is that a warning? Angry, bitter words threaten to spill forth but I bite them back. There’s a sympathetic note in his voice that makes me pause. I don’t know if he’s trying to be nice or to mess with me. I never know. I clutch my robe tighter to my front. “Is it so wrong to be unhappy at the sight of him sparring? I don’t want to lose him. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“You will lose him no matter what you do,” he intones. “The question is, what are you willing to risk for him?”
Is this an offering? A way out? “Everything,” I breathe, taking a step forward despite Yulenna’s frightened grip. “I’ll do anything—give everything—if you can save Aron.”
He merely smiles and turns away.
Shocked, I watch him leave. So that wasn’t him offering to help me? That was just more fortune cookie bullshit. I clench my teeth, utterly annoyed.
“Who was that?” Yulenna asks, awed. “Was that one of the spider gods?”
“The Spidae. And yes. I don’t know which one, but I think they’re all the same. They’re assholes and manipulators, and completely, batshit crazy.” I turn back to the narrow strip of beach, where the men are sparring again. “Let’s just forget we saw them, okay? I don’t want to ruin this day.”
Funny thing, though, the day already feels like it’s ruined.
It feels a bit like I’m pouting. I know Yulenna thinks I am, but I really don’t begrudge Aron his time with the others. If they were fishing or wrestling, I don’t think I’d care. It’s the sword in his hand, the battle strategies that he teaches them with every breath he takes…those are what scare me.
You can take the boy out of the battle, but you can’t take the battle out of the boy. Aron is and will always be a soldier, a warrior, a warlord. He’s going to want to leave this place behind soon enough to go and meet his destiny in Yshrem, a place I’ve never heard of but already hate.
I feel like I’m losing him. That’s why I hate Aron’s sparring practice. That’s why I hate the swordplay.
It’s too soon. I don’t want to lose him just yet. Or ever.
But definitely not this soon.
The men pause for a while to take a break. Kerren groans loudly, and the others flop down on the pale shoreline and I know the reality of it—they’re exhausted. No one can keep up with Aron. He’s immortal and has had millennia to hone his battle tactics. They’ve tried every way they can to slow him down, from tying him to Kerren’s back while blindfolded to binding his fingers together, and he still won. Each and every time, he wins. He smiles that arrogant, heartbreakingly gorgeous smile of his, and then glances up to see if I’m watching him.
But when they take a break? He comes to see me.
Aron arrives, sweaty and covered in sand, and pulls me into his arms. “My body craves another kind of battle right now,” he murmurs, sliding a hand under my dress. “Luckily I have the fairest anchor in six kingdoms to please me…” His words trail off and he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I feign ignorance. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”
“You look upset.”
“I’m totally not upset,” I lie. I don’t want to explain to him why I really am upset. That I’m terrified of losing him. That not only will I lose the man I love, but I’ll lose my life and whatever afterlife I had planned.
His eyebrows furrow and he puts a finger under my chin, tipping my face up so he can study it. “We were simply sparring—you know I would not get hurt. I cannot get hurt.”
“I know.”
Aron frowns at me for a moment longer, and then realization flickers over his face. “Ahhh. You are jealous of the time I’ve spent with the men. That’s it, isn’t it?”
It’s the most absurd and arrogant thing and a laugh bubbles up inside me, because it’s so typically Aron to say that. “No!”
“Yes,” he agrees, grinning. “Do not worry, my lovely Faith. You have my undivided attention, I promise you. Shall I spend all night in your bed so you can have your way with me?” He leans in and nips at my mouth.
I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. “Have my way with you, you say?”
His eyes gleam. “You can tie me down and we can pretend I’m your anchor and you’re the fierce goddess who must lick my cock for endless hours to sate herself.”
I snort. “This sounds suspiciously like a male fantasy.”
“Of course it is. But you’d still enjoy it.” His hands fasten on my ass and he holds me close, twirling me slightly on the balcony and grinning. I can’t help but smile back at him, and my heart is aching.
I want this moment—this silly, ridiculous moment—to last forever.
But I have a terrible feeling it’s all about to come to an end.
68
Nothing comes to an end for weeks, though. We pass another two glorious, lazy weeks in the Spidae’s keep, and the men spar on the beach every day while Yulenna and I chitchat about nothing in particular. Aron is true to his word, though—when he’s not sparring and speaking of moves and discussing battle plans for troops he doesn’t have—Aron’s with me. He’s as thoughtful and kind a lover as he is brutal and magnificent.
I’m head over heels in love with the big guy. I’ve never been so happy. Those two weeks pass in an instant.
One morning I wake up, though, and I immediately know something’s wrong. Aron’s not in bed with me, and at first I think he’s out sparring with the men. It’s awfully quiet, though, so they must be talking strategy or discussing plans. I get dressed, slip on a pair of shoes, and head to the balcony so I can watch.
But Aron’s on the balcony, much to my surprise.
“Oh, hey, you’re up here? No practice today?” I move forward and slide my hand into the crook of his arm, pressing a kiss to his bicep.
“Not today.”
There’s something in his tone that seems…off. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me one of those heart-melting smiles, doesn’t even act like his normal arrogant self. He just puts his hands on the balcony ramparts and stares out at the wide, gray lake.
“Aron?” I as
k again, starting to get worried. For the first time, I notice that his long hair is slightly disheveled, as if he hasn’t brushed it or run his fingers through it after getting out of bed. His clothing looks like what he wore yesterday, wrinkled and the laces undone. I notice he’s got no shoes on his feet.
This isn’t like him at all.
“I’m fine, Faith. Go back to bed.”
I playfully run my fingers up his arm. “Only if you come back to bed with me.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not in the mood.”
Not in the mood? Not in the fucking mood? I’m hurt, but it quickly passes. This isn’t Aron. Something’s wrong. Something’s different about him and it’s worrying me. Aron has been in the mood ever since we first made love. Sometimes I wake up to him pushing between my thighs because he doesn’t want to wait until morning for me to wake up—and I love that. I wake up to him kissing me or going down on me because he loves my taste. The man loves sex.
How can he not be in the mood? He’s always in the mood.
I study him for a moment longer, then suggest something I think will break him out of his funk. “So when we get to Yshrem, what’s the plan?” Talking war strategy with the men always makes him light up. If nothing else, it makes him talk, sometimes endlessly. Right now I’d be happy to let him fill my ears about troops and battle plans if it means he’ll just talk to me. “Carry on as we have been? Or amass an army to take out your opponents? Do you think we’ll need to fight our way there?”
He shrugs.
He fucking shrugs.
That’s the only answer I get.
This is…not my Aron. Something’s definitely wrong.
I pat his arm and move away, heading back inside. I turn and look at the man standing on the balcony, just in case he’s messing with me, but Aron continues to stare out at the gray waters, seeing nothing.
And suddenly, I know what this is. I know exactly why he’s like this…but I need proof.