The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(38)

He seemed to consider the information. “I...love...you?” He tested each word on his tongue.

The pressure of his arm eased fractionally. She drew in a breath. “Yes.”

Something came into his eyes. A glimmer of awareness. Not full recognition, not yet. A willingness to believe, perhaps.

“Let me go, Arthur.”

“Yes.” His voice was oddly mechanical. “Let you go.”

Cybele expelled stale air from her lungs as she watched Arthur come back to himself. It happened by slow degrees. First, he took his arm from her throat. Then his fingers loosened and slid out of her hair. His gaze ran over her face, her neck, her body. Not with any lascivious intent. It was more like he was taking inventory, checking her against some internal mental standard. Eventually, his attention returned to her face, and showed a glimmer of true recognition.

It was followed by an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.

“Fuck!”

He threw himself backward. He fell, sprawled on his ass on the floor. The next instant he was on his feet, stumbling toward the door.

Cybele jumped up. Her body protested. Ouch.

“Arthur, wait!”

He spun about. His eyes were wild, filled with self-loathing. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I’ve got...to get out.”

“No.” Pain shot through her hip. She stumbled, hissing through her teeth as she grabbed for the wall.

“What?” Arthur was by her side in an instant. He reached for her, but when she regained her balance on her own, he stopped short of touching her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She clutched at his arm. “Just...my hip. I must’ve pulled a muscle or something. Help me sit down.”

He lowered her to the mattress. His gaze swept over her naked body. Retrieving the blanket from the floor, he shook it out and draped it over her shoulders.

She looked up at him. “Thanks.”

He scowled at the bed. “Did I do that?”

“We did it together,” she said.

“Bullshit.” He turned to face her. “There are—” He swallowed. “Bruises. Finger marks. On your arms and legs. And teeth marks...” He closed his eyes briefly. “Fuck.” He moved away.

“Arthur—”

“I don’t remember the bed breaking,” he said. “I don’t remember biting you. I don’t remember...much of anything after I started to come.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He gave a short laugh. “Doesn’t it?” He looked toward the door.

“Don’t you dare leave.”

“I can’t stay.” His voice was tight.

“Yes, you can. We need to talk about it.”

He turned and leaned against the wall, regarding her with a dark expression. “That’s a nasty bite I gave you. Right here.” He circled his finger over his left breast.

She brought the edges of the blanket together. “Forget it.”

“Forget that I hurt you? Not likely.”

She made a face at him. “Don’t be so dramatic. See those red lines on your shoulders? Claw marks. I did that. They were even bleeding earlier, before the Nephil healing kicked in.”

“Your bruises aren’t going to heal that quickly.”

“They’ll be gone soon enough.”

“They shouldn’t be there at all. We shouldn’t have had sex. I told you—”

“I’m glad we had sex. Dang it all, Arthur, it was freaking glorious.”

“Won’t be glorious when it kills you,” he muttered.

“Well, it didn’t.”

“It could have. I thought you were...” His gaze dropped.

“What? You thought I was what?”

“I don’t know. I saw something...some memory, I think. Centuries old.” He shook his head slightly. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

“It’ll come back.”

“Maybe,” he said. “And maybe if it does I’ll just forget it again.”

She blew out a breath. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He stalked across the room and bent to grab his jeans off the floor. “This magic...I might never be able to control it.” He shoved one leg, then the other, into his pants. “I can handle it a little when I’m calm, but when I’m not—” He pulled up the zipper. “My brain—it goes blank. Everything goes wrong, and I can’t remember how. Or why. Or even what I’ve done.”

“You just need time to get used to it.”

He found a shirt, one of the extras she’d brought from Texas. He crumpled it into a ball in his hands. “Maybe. In the meantime, you—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “And you’re not leaving me here alone.”

He sighed. “No. Of course not. But we can’t have sex again. It’s too dangerous.”

She hesitated. “We could be more careful.”

“Cybele, I was being careful. My ‘careful’ nearly broke you in two.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then, abruptly, shut it. “Okaaay,” she said slowly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should chill on the sex. For now.”