Arianna wanted to go bang her head into a wood plank a few dozen times. Either he read slowly or he was re-reading passages because he took forever on just the first two opened pages. When the crinkling sound of paper came indicating he'd turned to the next, a furious blush came over her face. Now he was reading about the other night.
She knew the words on the page by heart. Because she'd written them from her heart, by her own hand. Good thing he hadn't come by tomorrow to read her journal, because what she had to write after he left was not going to be pretty.
His eyes lifted from the page and landed on hers. Her knees suddenly felt weak and she collapsed into a chair by the fireplace. She buried her face in her hands to hide her mortification. She knew exactly what he was reading.
Alrik appears to have many different façades than I could ever have imagined. Not only is he far more intimidating in person and alone, but he appears so conflicted at times that I just want to sit down and talk with him. Find out why he's become the man he has and simply ask him: do you like who you are? I have a feeling he's never asked himself this question. It's as though as the years have passed, he's merely accepted his position, the darkening of his soul. The harbingers of pain to the prolitare. The answer to the prayers of the royal. I can still remember sitting with him and Telal when we were all ripe, and see his eyes shine with admiration at Telal. While Telal's betrayal cut us all deeply, I still cannot believe he hasn't accepted it, at least in some part, and grown to do what was right.
Tonight, this changed Alrik, the one who sits high on his throne and rules with a dark fist, ordered me to come to him. I knew now what he'd expect, at least as much as a virgin could. The experience was...well you know how it was. Horrible, exciting, odd, and incredible. I almost want to start calling him the man with so many faces, because that's who he is.
At one end, he'd so cruelly punish a prisoner whom I'm sure he knows was wrongfully imprisoned, and on the other he can look at me as though I'm the only person in the world he cares about. It isn't the first time I've seen the man-with-so-many-faces glance at me so. In fact, I’ve steadfastly ignored his gazes for a long, long time, not knowing what to make of it, and terrified to find out because something in my gut would seize so tightly and hold me captive.
It had to be fear that I'd felt—or so I thought. I learned my lesson tonight in the dining room during my private audience with Alrik. He touched me... how could this man's touch, this man of many faces, create such a stirring of passion inside me? He'd made me do debasing, sexual things that even now as I write this, stirs something needful inside me. He didn't take my body as I thought he would. But what he did instead, how he touched me, and made me touch him, felt more...erotic...than I can ever imagine sex being.
So the question now, journal, is what do I make of this man? Why even now am I still thinking about him? How I wish he were different, like his old self, then I don't believe I'd have any problems caring for him. But what happens when I begin to care for a monster?
The tension in the room escalated to nearly suffocating levels. Arianna gripped the armrests with a white-knuckled fist as Alrik slowly lifted his head from her journal. He'd read her most private words, entered her most secret world that no one knew of. No one now but him. She had no idea how to prepare herself, because she had no idea how he'd react.
“Do you believe you can fix me?”
“No,” she answered. How could someone fix something when they weren't sure what was broken? She didn't even know if she'd want to anyway.
Alrik stood, his hand curling around the journal and taking it with him. Arianna tensed as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped at the door. “What do you care?”
“You have my journal.”
He looked down at it. “So I do.”
She stood and marched up to him, extending her hand. “You can't have it.”
“I can have anything I want, Arianna. Anything,” he said, his face leaning into hers.
“What happened to your eyes?” she asked in a rush. If he was leaving and going to take her most precious belonging then at least she wanted that much answered.
Those dark eyes narrowed on her. “What did you expect? That one night with you would cure me?” He shook his head then slammed open the door, leaving her standing there gaping after him.
Arianna growled in frustration and slammed the broken door shut. The insufferable man was driving her crazy! She wanted to yank out her hair and scream until her voice turned hoarse. Cure him? Cure him? She had no thoughts to curing him. Where the hell did that even come from?
Arianna paced back and forth across her room, slapping her hand against the post of her bed in her anger.
“What is he talking about?” she asked to no one.
That rotten, irresponsible, jackass thought he could come in here and command her around. While he technically had every right to do so, that didn't make it right. And his response still didn't come close to answering her question. Why had his eyes turned even darker now? Why had they reverted in the first place? Wasn't he curious? Didn't he want to know?
“Obviously not,” she bit out and kicked a chair, knocking it over.
It wasn't until night fell and she'd calmed down that a thought struck Arianna. Did he think that being with her would cure him? The thought staggered her so much, she righted the chair she'd kicked over and sat in it. Did their...experience together somehow help to bring him back from whatever dangerous cliff he stood on?
“What if I can help him?” she whispered, her wide eyes trained unseeing on the wall. What if he wants me to help him?
Arianna tucked herself into bed that night with an all new perspective on the wicked king.
CHAPTER 28
Kearnyn waited in the small living room of Rosa's shop feeling more nervous than he ever had. He hadn't even been this nervous on his wedding day. All of that had been planned and understood. He and Moira knew exactly how the day would precede even leading up to the consummation of the marriage that night. Even then, he hadn't been so nervous.
Now he pulled a kerchief out of his suit jacket and dabbed at the sweat beading his temples. God damn. He had to get a hold of himself. He'll be a pile of sweat by the time she got out here.
After the meeting at Tyrian's today, he'd asked her on a date tonight. They both understood it'd be a real date, not some out-in-the-daylight-at-a-cafe date. He told her to wear something nice. Already he was thinking this was all a shitty idea. He wore his best suit and, god, did he hate it. It made him feel like a giant fucking penguin with the matching jacket and pants and tie. Still, he wanted to do something nice for her. He wanted to get her to loosen up and talk to him. He craved hearing her voice, knowing more about her.
He froze in the process of dabbing his sweat when he heard footsteps. No, not footsteps. The soft tapping of heels. He almost groaned at the thought of her in sexy shoes. God, this was a really bad idea. How was he supposed to talk to her when he had a hard enough time keeping his dick under wraps, and that was when she wore a loose unflattering dress. Heels...dark long legs...were they slender, muscular, or rounded and curvy? God, he didn't even care. He just wanted to runs his hands and tongue all over them. Pervert.
The soft sound came closer and he actually forced his eyes closed as she came through the beaded partition. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to know how difficult this night was going to be.