“Obviously,” Jericho echoed, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m sure she would be more than happy to explain it to you,” Kiran rose to the challenge. He stared down Jericho, daring Jericho to accuse him again.
“Let’s just go,” I encouraged soothingly.
I laid a familiar hand on Jericho’s chest and gently nudged him in the direction of the door. My hand lingered against his muscular torso, promising him if he left there would be more touching to come. When he stood stubbornly still for just a moment too long, I slid my hand over his stomach and around his waist, pressing my body against his arm. Kiran’s magic flared angrily in the air, stopping my heart in fear of what he would do. But Kiran’s intensified aggression only seemed to calm Jericho and he moved us out of the room with a protective arm around my shoulder.
We stayed silent walking through the upstairs of the house and to the back where several bedrooms lined a hallway. Jericho led me to the very back room and opened the door to reveal a simple room with a hardwood floor, a double bed pushed against one wall, a writing desk and dresser against another and a small futon against the wall with the door. I smiled at the simplicity of Jericho’s room and the clean uniformity to it. This was where he lived, his base to fight against the forces of evil, where he plotted to free me from my imprisonment.
He shut the door behind us and leaned against it shyly. I inspected the room and then turned back to him. He watched me from across the room; no, he studied me. I could see his wheels turning, his brain fighting hard to come to tough decisions and hard opinions. The adoring love he had stared at me since the first time I met him was gone, and tonight it was replaced with something that made goose bumps pop out on my arms and my knees feel weak and faint.
Still, the way he leaned back on the door, the way his hair fell across his forehead…. He reminded me of Peru, of the hotel room in the old monastery after we escaped the Titans. He reminded me of hope and freedom. I should have asked him what was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself from taking the space between us in a few fast strides and wrapping my arms around his neck just like I had done in Peru. Only this time, instead of bursting into tears, I leaned forward on my tiptoes and lifted my lips to his. I pressed my mouth against his hungrily, reminding him of my love, reminding him that even though I couldn’t be with him daily, or even conventionally, he still held my heart.
He stayed reluctant at first, slow to return my passion. But I continued persistently; I couldn’t give up on Jericho. I couldn’t even acknowledge that something might be wrong, I needed him now. I needed him like I always needed him; I needed him to love me unconditionally without demanding forgiveness, without breaking my heart and without asking anything from me except to love him in return.
He sighed at my determination and gave in. His mouth opened against mine and I felt the surge of his magic as his tongue found mine and his tender lips caressed mine with delicate sweetness. One hand pressed against my lower back, the other tangled itself into my long, black curls. Reveling in my success, I kissed him for a long time, and reminded us both how I felt about him.
When he finally pulled away and I gasped for breath, my lips swollen and tired, I realized that his magic had stayed carefully reserved and that his eyes still were not the hazel that I remembered. He took my hand and pulled me to the bed where we sat down next to each other, my legs immediately swinging over his and my hand refusing to leave his hold.
“Don’t you think we should talk?” Jericho asked, not meeting my eyes.
“Yes, I do,” I agreed, but then relented immediately. “Tomorrow. We will talk tomorrow. Right now, I’m exhausted, and I’ve missed you so much that I can hardly stand it!”
He smiled at me, finally lifting his eyes to meet mine and I watched the hardness melt away, the determination to get something off his chest disappear. “You’re right, you’ve had a hard couple of days,” he agreed. “And it’s late.”
I looked at the clock next to his bed and yawned in response to the late hour it reflected. Jericho unlocked his hand from mine and patted the bed behind him, jerking his chin playfully in the direction of the pillow. I nodded, letting my eyes dance with anticipation and crawled from his lap to the nook of his arm when he leaned back on the bed and kicked off his shoes. I snuggled closer to him, laying my arm across his stomach.
“Tomorrow we need to talk though, Eden,” he warned me, and I made a noise in response to let him know I heard him. “But for now, sleep.”
“I love you, Jericho,” I whispered, my eyes already closed.
He hesitated for a long time before answering, “I love you too, Eden.” Then he kissed me on the forehead and I fell asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling, confident that no matter what he had to talk to me about tomorrow, he still loved me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The sun shone through the windows, warming my skin and gently waking me early in the morning. I stretched, arching my back and then snuggled closer to Jericho. He lay next to me, warm and shielding. I used magic on my morning breath, a neat trick I picked up while on the run last spring, and opened my eyes to face the day.
Jericho was already awake, holding me next to him. I could feel him preparing this talk that we were supposed to have in his head and instantly a nervous energy flooded my veins. However, I smiled confidently…. lovingly into his eyes and hoped for the best.