Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(49)
“I don’t need help! I don’t need therapy!” he shouted. But then he subsided, and said more quietly, “I’m not crazy. I don’t need a damned psychiatrist.”
Miriam chose her next words with care, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground. “A therapist is different from a psychiatrist, Ben. A therapist would just talk to you, and listen to you. It’s just a way of learning to deal with what’s inside you, I think. Beth from work, she goes to one, and she was telling me about how much it helped—”
“I’m not going to a therapist, Miriam. I don’t want to, and I don’t need to.” He took a drink from the now nearly empty bottle, slid his chair back, and tossed his napkin on his plate, clearly dismissing the subject. He came around the table and knelt next to Miriam, taking her hands in his. “Listen, I—I’m really, really sorry about the way I’ve acted recently. I really do love you, and only you. You belong to me. We belong together.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black box.
Miriam’s heart seized, realizing what he was about to do. “Ben, no, please don’t—” She could barely choke the words past the coiled, throbbing knot of vomit in her throat.
Ben squeezed her hand with sudden, savage strength, and she went silent as he continued. “Just listen. I love you. I really do. I know I haven’t been the easiest guy to be around, but I’ll change that, I promise. I want to be with you forever.” He opened the box, revealing a diamond ring gleaming against the black velvet. “Miriam, will you marry me?”
He said this with a pistol in his waistband, the butt poking out of his jacket, just inches away from her. Miriam was frozen, her breath coming in panting, ragged gasps of panic. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink her eyelids.
He was completely serious, kneeling in the classic proposal position, waiting for her answer.
The bubble of fear trapping her in place popped, and she rose to her feet, calming her breath and steadying her trembling hands. “Ben….” She met his eyes, let the fires blaze up hot in her belly as she spoke. “No. I won’t. I can’t. I don’t love you, and I don’t think I ever have. I may have wanted to, and tried to, and convinced myself that I did, but…I don’t. I needed you to protect me from Nick, but I never loved you. And you don’t love me. Don’t you see how crazy this is?”
Ben was shaking his head in denial. “What? What are you saying Miriam? I thought….”
Miriam backed away, edging slowly toward the door behind her. “No, Ben, I don’t think you did think. Or you thought wrong. What I’m saying is that I will not marry you, not now, not ever.” A few more feet…just keep him shocked a bit longer…. “I don’t know what had you convinced that this was a good idea, Ben, but it wasn’t. For one thing, you’ve had Rachel on the side for how long? And then you kidnap me…and you propose? Can you see how that might be just a bit…I don’t know…contradictory?”
Ben closed the ring box and slipped it into his jacket. His hand didn’t quite reach for his gun, but almost. “Miriam, I didn’t kidnap you—”
“You knocked me out and brought me here against my will! That’s kidnapping, Ben!” Miriam was breathless with panic, with the baking heat of her anger, with reckless, mad fury. He had a gun and an unhealthy dose of instability, yet Miriam chose this moment to tell him the deepest truths inside her. “I don’t want to ever see you again. We’re done! I broke up with you that day on the road, when I told you I’d kill you if I saw you again. Apparently that didn’t sink in. I can’t stand you, Ben. You’re selfish and abusive and arrogant. You only care about you, and you always have—you just disguised it when we first met. I’m done, Ben. Done.” The door bumped against her back, and she grasped the handle in trembling fingers, turned it, gave Ben one last glance, and ran out. She heard him bellow a curse and fumble with the doorknob, heard the door slam open, and he was behind her, running after her.
Miriam ran, bare feet slapping against the carpeted floor. She was running aimlessly, following the endless hallway until she came to a bank of elevators. Ben was close behind, so she threw herself against the crash-bar to the stairs, noting with something like horror that she was on the tenth floor. She’d made her gambit; now she had to play it through. She could have stopped and let her magic burn Ben to a crisp, but the last time she’d let her magic out, she’d nearly destroyed Comerica Park. If she did it here, with the wild riot of emotions running through her, the entire hotel might very well go up in flames. She had no control over it, and there was no way of telling what would happen if she let it out.
No, Miriam decided. She had to deal with Ben without it.
Stairs flew under her feet with reckless speed, bruising her heels and sending lances of pain up her legs and into her back, but every instinct inside her screamed for her to run, run, run. Just before she fled, she’d seen the mask of calm on Ben’s face slip, the fa?ade of sanity crumbling to show the pounding rage and thundering madness that lay beneath. He wouldn’t let her go, not without a fight. And a fight would mean destruction she wasn’t ready to allow.
A stitch in her side stole her breath, slowing her descent. She heard Ben on the stairs above her, growling and cursing. After what seemed like an endless series of stairs, Miriam finally burst out into a lobby hallway filled with people. Most were heading in the same direction, so she darted in among the crowd, hoping to lose Ben in the crush of people. The crowd dispersed around her into the main floor of the casino, and Miriam was inundated with sound, overwhelmed by jangling slot machines and people chattering, card dealers jabbering their patter; she was choked by a thick haze of cigarette smoke, the cloud of nicotine rolling in a visible fog. People were everywhere, milling and chatting and drinking and smoking, playing slot machines and hunched over card tables.