Chapter 47: Chapter 47
A R Y A
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I could only stare at him. Not a single syllable escaped my mouth as I stood here and he was at the other end of the cave where he had been twitching on the floor seconds before.
It felt more like there wasn't the stone altar, but whole worlds between us, a chasm that was unbridgeable. So many unsaid things stood between us. So many things that had happened that I didn't know how to interpret.
My heart was pounding in my throat as I feverishly tried to figure out where to put my hands and my eyes. It couldn't be his eyes - those fantastically beautiful, expressive eyes in which I could lose myself. Not even this hard, manly face, into which strands of blond-brown hair had gotten lost and needed my help to gently wipe them away. Everything inside me was painfully urging me to pursue this inner desire, but I was unable to put one foot in front of the other, couldn't even breathe properly.
He was the first to say something. 'Tell me how to make it up to you. Tell me you know I didn't want any of this."
I stared at my wringing hands.
"Arya..." he groaned in irritation, and then I heard quick footsteps.
I looked up slightly, just enough to see him pacing excitedly, tearing his hair.
"She made things in me I..."
My hands clutched the silk of my dress. Echinda was dead, no longer controlling anyone, no longer spreading her tentacles into anyone's mind, yet the traces her influence had required were so present, it was as if the harsh, corrosive lightning bolts were still coursing through my limbs.
I gritted my teeth, lifted my head and asked the question that could change everything. "How much of that was your decision?"
He stopped in his excited run. His fists opened and closed again as he snarled, "I would never have left you, would never have left you alone - in the middle of the night."
His fangs came out and his eyes lit up at the anger seething inside him. An anger I knew wasn't directed at me, but directed at himself. Why didn't I have any doubts? His fists, which wouldn't stop shaking, were already red, soaked from his own blood pouring from his palms. He had his claws out and injured himself.
“I would have trained with you, I would have accompanied you to your tribe. I would have been there for you if you needed me. I would never have locked you in the crypt.” Bright, burning eyes that now stared at my chin, which must have turned greenish-blue by now. Then there was a loud crack as he ground his teeth hard. "And by all the gods, I would never have hit you."
I almost ran towards him. I almost threw myself at his neck and pulled his hands to me. Wish I could wipe that blood off his hands and stop him from hurting himself so much. Didn't he know that this man was sacred to me? That nobody was allowed to hurt him, not even himself?
But the cool, reasonable voice that still kept me somewhat upright prevented me from proving just that to him.
"So that was all her?" I whispered softly, almost hoping he hadn't heard me and would spare me an answer. Part of me refused to look directly into the eye of truth, preferring to withdraw and crawl away from the inevitable revelation.
He grimaced. "I'd be lying if I said nothing was in my own hands." He looked away. "Yes, I wouldn't have done any of that, but I can't guarantee that I would have taken you into battle."
Everything around me froze and my hands let go of the red skirt.” “"What?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You see... I had to protect you." He rubbed his hair frantically and resumed his frantic run. Back and forth, back and forth. “I couldn't lose you. If I'd been late...' His hoarse voice trailed off into nothingness.
"Wow." I stared at an inconsequential spot behind him on the cliff face as the painfully held tear in my chest burst. It was like the whole cave was collapsing on me. chunks of rock falling on me, shattering my bones. All those promises, all those words he said to me. Everything a lie!”
His quick footsteps across the ground only echoed dully over to me when I felt numb.
"Let me explain."
As soon as he said that, my head jerked towards him and every drop of numbness in my limbs evaporated immediately. I hissed. "You want to “explain? “You seriously want to “explain it to me?" “My laughter dripped with sarcasm and I swallowed the rising frustration like it was a life preserver thrown down.” "“What are you trying to explain to me, huh? how you lied to me How you acted with everyone else behind my back, just leaving me out like a stupid, annoying kid?”
He froze at my anger and looked at me in mild shock. "“Kitten”, I..."
"Do not call me that! Never again!” My fists trembled against my body, but I didn't feel the least bit like a fight. I felt terrible. He should be my mate, he should be the one who loved me, who was proud of me. Well, I would always be a pure disappointment to my father, but different rules should apply to my mate. He had told me that I could never be that for him, had promised me that I would never be nothing for him. Shards of glass dug into my hat, slashing me open. “Lie, lie, lie.”
Xenos slowly raised his hand as if I were a rabid she-wolf who threatened to explode every time. “Arya, calm down. All the things I said to you... All the times I left you, it wasn't me. Please believe me.”
"Go!" My eyes were already watering, even as I tried so hard to hold back the welling tears. But the bursting tear in my chest grew larger by the second, threatening to suck me in completely until only raw, raw pain remained. Everything in me collapsed, nothing held me anymore. My voice was so loud and shrill that I shook myself. "I SAID YOU SHOULD GO!"
“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, okay?” he steered toward me with quick steps. "Come here." He spread his arms, the tentacle bite scars that covered his entire torso glistening in the morning sun that filtered through the cave mouth at the other end. "Come here. Come here."
"No!" I pressed myself against the stone wall behind me, like a constricted reae, and shook my head in panic when it almost reached the stone altar. I didn't want him, never wanted to see him again. HE SHOULD GO!
His expression only became more serious and determined, as did his steps. He was about to walk around the altar when the broken glass dug deeper into my limbs and I screamed,