Queen

I moved to the foot of the bed and he emptied the contents of his jean pockets, placing them on the desk beside the bed. When he was done, he sat back on the bed. He held an arm out for me and I slithered into the space between him and the bed rail. It was a tight squeeze but I hadn't felt so comfortable since waking up.

I snuggled into his side, inhaling deep as he wrapped his arm around me. "You smell so good."

He poked my side. "Stop being weird."

"Learn to take a compliment."

He let out a huff, settling into the bed and I closed my eyes. "You cannot be comfortable."

"I am," I mumbled.

"Okay." He was quiet for a few seconds. "The rail isn't hurting your back?"

I shook my head.

"You aren't sore anymore?"

"Syn," I groaned, lifting my head to look up at him.

"What?" He raised both of his brows. "I just want to make sure."

"Stop worrying, please."

"How do you suggest I do that?" His voice was soft, his eyes genuinely curious. There was a sadness behind them that I hated seeing. But I understood where they came from.

"You died, Queen. Every time your eyes close I wonder if it's because you're sleeping or because you're dead. I can't hear you anymore and it's a little bit terrifying. So please bear with my incessant questions until I can learn another way. Just for today, if you close your eyes-- answer me. And if you get tired of speaking, then just look at me."

Guilt hit me like a truck as he explained himself. I guess my not having a heartbeat was going to be an adjustment for both of us. He never had one, so the way he was feeling was completely foreign to me.

In all the time we knew each other, he used my heartbeat as a cheat sheet. When I was afraid, he'd know. When I was lying to him...hungry. From the moment I woke up and through my dreams, my heartbeat was his guide to everything. Even before he truly knew me.

He had to learn me all over...

I placed a hand on his other shoulder and used it as support. I swung my leg over to the other side of him and I straddled him. His eyes were full of questions as I adjusted myself and once I settled, I took his hand into mine.

I placed his hand over my chest and waited for a beat. "What do you feel?" He tilted his head at me in slight disbelief and I pushed. "Come on."

"Mm. Your chest."

Asshole.

But it was a start.

"And what's my chest doing?"

He fell silent and I watched him. His eyes were focused on our hands- watching the rise and fall of them against my chest and a smile reached his lips. He was understanding. "Now," I said, removing his hand and placing it right in front of my face. "What do you feel here?"

I inhaled and exhaled through my nose as I normally did. He nodded slowly as the air fanned his palm and I moved his hand to my stomach. His palm rested flat against it and I swallowed a nervous breath. I wasn't exactly out of shape, but it had been a while since I did...anything. He didn't seem to give a shit as usual and squeezed a little. "And what am I supposed to feel here?"

Well, besides the belly fat. I cleared my throat. "I'm not sure if you can feel it, but if you listen hard enough..." I eyed him and he looked up, focused. I braced myself for the embarrassment and when he smiled, I raised my brows. "You understand?"

"I do." He grasped my jaw and pressed a peck to my lips.

I smiled. "You have forever to figure it out. What you don't understand just ask me and I'll work on being more transparent."

"Thank you. I feel better." He stayed quiet for a few moments before a laugh escaped his lips. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. "Not any more now. I'm going to take advantage of this new me. If I don't eat and won't starve, I'll lose weight."

"And why would you want to lose weight?"

"The same reason as every other woman wants to."

"For validation from their partners?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then?"

"To look good naked."

"Hm." He raised a brow. "Who besides me do you plan to be naked with?"

I hesitated. "Nobody."

"Then what does it matter what anyone besides me thinks?" He asked, stunning me again. "Unless I was right about the validation part?"

I nodded. "Okay, you were right about the validation part."

"Princess, I genuinely don't care about all that superficial stuff."

"All men care about the superficial stuff," I said. "If I looked any different when we met could you say for certain we would have ended up together?"

"Yes," he said. Zero hesitation. "Can you say the same for me?"

"Like if you looked different?"

"Yes."

I thought for a moment before whispering, "Different how?"

He poked at my head. "See? Look at you. Your mundane notions about the physical forms and men are misplaced with me. I've only ever loved one woman in my life and if she wants to gain a hundred pounds for the hell of it...I will bring her food. We have a million years ahead of us, Princess. Neither of us are going to look the same forever and who cares? As long as you're still you, that's all that matters to me."

I held back a smile. I definitely hit the jackpot where he was concerned.

"Besides we will take our vows again soon and there's that one part," He continued. "Through thick and thin and all that shit."

"Don't really think they were talking about weight," I said. "But thank you."

"Don't thank me for that shit," he scowled.

He couldn't understand my gratitude but the truth was there were a lot of shitty men in the world and I had my fair share of experience with them. What he thought was a normal trait, a lot of people lacked. He never ceased to amaze me.

"It just surprises me sometimes."

"That I'm not a complete asshole when it comes to you?"

I laughed a bit and shook my head. "I don't mean it like that. It's just that I've met the people in your life--your examples I guess and..."

An amused grin spread across his lips. "And you're wondering how I turned out to be such an upstanding gentleman?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I watched my mother and father," he began. "And decided to be the complete opposite."

I shook my head. "Not nice. But speaking of people...where is everyone?"

"No idea," he said flatly. There was an edge in his words that was more telling than he realized and it made me think a bit. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I replied. "Is Saint still with Cain and Iris?"

"Yes, he is."

"How is he?" I asked. I missed him beyond words could explain and in a normal world, he would've been here with Syn. But something he wasn't telling me was going on.

"Stubborn as always," he said. "But he is okay. I'll tell you later what he did."

I nodded, eyeing him carefully. My gaze fell to his torso and the image of him chained up in the basement passed through my mind. My hands moved to the zipper of his jacket. "Do you mind?"

He shifted under me and relaxed into the bed. He exhaled, looking up toward the ceiling and closing his eyes. "If you insist." I caught a glimpse of a scar on his neck and my mind flashed to Aiden piercing his skin with it.

I opened the jacket, pushing it to his shoulders before letting my eyes slide down his upper body. His chest rose and fell, his muscles expanding and contracting. Scars painted his body, slashing over some of the tattoos he had. Aiden used his body as a canvas and instead of using a brush to inflict his damage, he used that fucking knife.

My fingers lingered on the zippers as my eyes roamed. A fiery anger burned through me as the agony of what he had been through set in. It pierced the depths of my soul. I wished I could go back and just do more. Even as I looked at the faded scars beyond the newer ones I wished I had the power to turn back time and shield him from how cruel the world could be.

He was too strong.

But I guess there was never truly a time where he could afford not to be. His life had been a continuous cycle of suffering and surviving one more day.

I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until a poor excuse for a heart peeked up at me from his side. The moment I pushed his jacket to take a closer look, the dread set in. Tears flooded my eyes, falling down my cheeks and I wiped my eyes. When I looked back up at him, his eyes were on me- an unreadable expression on his face.

"They bother you," he said.

"Of course they bother me." How could they not? They made me angry- fucking murderous! It made me want to put Aiden's heart back into his chest and pull it out over and over until his soul had shriveled down to dust.

He nodded, still solemn before reaching over to the desk. He grabbed something and held it out for me. "I don't want you to cry every time you see it, Queen." What? I looked down at the black box and opened it. When my eyes landed on the same knife that was used to inflict so much pain on him, I looked up at him again. "It's not like I can cover it with tattoos like the others. At least with this, you can scratch it out until it's not visible."

"Her name?"

"Yes," he replied. "I don't want you upset like this when there's a solution."

"So get rid of one scar with another one?"

"It's not a scar if it still causes pain," he said. "He fucking branded me like I was livestock and it's another woman's name. It won't just be a scar to me if it hurts you."

I let out a bitter laugh. "You think it's her name on you that's making me so upset?"

"You weren't crying until you saw it."

"I was holding back tears the moment I opened your jacket, Syn. I only started crying when I saw her name because all I could think about was everything you went through with her. I imagine you seeing this every day and being reminded of it all and it just breaks my heart," I admitted. "So no, I will not cover this scar with petty insecurities. Every time you see it you'll be reminded that I caused you pain to make myself feel better. That's not love."

"I won't think that, Princess," he said. "I wouldn't like it if another man's name was permanently carved onto you either."

"If I asked you to cover it in more scars for me because I didn't want to hurt you, would you do it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because it wouldn't matter to me."

"Why?" I pressed. He was going to get this through his thick skull one way or another.

"Because putting you through more pain wouldn't make me feel better," he said.

"Because..."

"I love you."

"And I love you," I told him, shutting the box and taking it from his hands. "I love you so much and love isn't supposed to hurt you, Syn. I would never intentionally hurt you."

His eyes softened, but that lingering disbelief was there. "Then tell me what to do to make this better?"

"Will you survive?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Are you going to think about her whenever you see it?"

"Are you going to think about her whenever you see it?" he asked. "That's the only thing that matters to me."

"I've seen it and all I've thought about is you."

"You said it bothers you."

"You being hurt is what bothers me-- the memories," I clarified. "Not your body, ever."

He tilted his head. "Yet you haven't touched me."

I wanted to be respectful of his boundaries. The scars were still fresh.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

He considered my question, his eyes squinted in thought as he sat up. His hands held my hips as he found his answer and said, "I want you to touch me because you want to touch me, not because you asked me if I wanted to be touched and I said yes," he mocked me and tickled my sides. "Sound like anyone you know?"

I laughed, fighting his hands as I shook my head. "No."

"Liar," he whispered, wrapping his hands around my waist and rubbing my lower back.

I moved my hands up his chest and intertwined my fingers behind his neck. "Only with the best intentions."

He sucked in a deep breath, his hands moving gently against my skin. Our eyes locked in the moment and his movements stopped. His eyes dropped to my lips and I felt the weight of his desire. A palpable tension hung in the air, crackling with an energy that made my body press against him.

I could feel the effect I had on him pressing into me-- swelling between my legs. But I could see the struggle in his eyes. He was trying to restrain himself, a valiant effort on his part, but I didn't want it. If his goal was to control himself, he shouldn't have gotten into bed with me or bared his soul.

I wanted him.

And I wanted the promise of the kiss that lingered in the air.

I could feel the control he forced on himself in his fingers. They dug deep into my hips, making his muscles tense. I couldn't understand why he'd be holding back right now but I took the good with the bad. If he was trying this hard not to lose control, it only meant that he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.

"Well." He patted my leg and moved from under me. When he managed to slip out from the bed, I watched as he adjusted the hard-on in his pants. "Food. You were hungry, hm?" He zipped his jacket, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated and I pressed my lips together.

I never knew him to run.

His question still lingered as he looked at me.

"I'm not hungry," I told him. There was something else I wanted. "I'm horny."

꧁꧂

Real.