Greys IV - Chains

Chapter 47 - Die Trying

I went back to my room. I knew James wouldn't be far behind and I felt a little thrill at the thought I couldn't quite explain. It was perfectly balanced at the precipice between excitement and fear, like I was being hunted, chased in some game. It was the adrenaline of training, sparring, but without any of the action, just the anticipation.

Something about James, this new James, was exciting to me. It was obvious after I said it that it was true, that was what I had been feeling, what had been growing. Beneath the loss, the anger and confusion, the disgust and guilt that I wasn't actually disgusted by him at all - buried deep beneath all of that, was excitement, a drawn to him just as there had always been. But moreso now because he was more now. More Heaven, more Hell, more power. And maybe he was right, maybe that had always been his draw, the gravity he seemed to emanate.

But none of that mattered - where our draw came from, our connection, if it was love or ever even had been - it was inescapable and I wasn't trying to run from it anymore. Not if this was going to work. He had asked me to save him, and I would - or I would die trying.

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I followed, or maybe chased. I wasn't clear on who was pulling who, if it gave me the upper hand or her, but it didn't matter, I had my own plans for my little Angel tonight.

I walked into her room and closed the door behind me. A Book of Dust was sitting on her bedside table, but she wasn't in the room. I heard the shower running and settled into her sole chair, kicking my feet up on the book. We wouldn't need it. I knew the words on its pages like the scars on my knuckles or the clouds and constellations in my Pair's ever-changing gray eyes.

The water shut off and my eyes locked on the crack of the bathroom door. I had to will my body to stay casually lounged instead of lunging for the slivered opening that sweet smelling steam leaked from. I watched and waited like a predator watching the little burrow of his next meal. Then the door opened and I felt the corner of my lip curl up. I had to swallow back the growl that tried to rumble through my chest and up my throat.

She didn't look surprised in the least to find me sitting in her chair, waiting for her, her face perfectly impassive. Her storm eyes just swept over me as she walked into the room, a towel in her hand squeezing the water from her hair. She knew I had followed. Which meant all of this was exactly as she wanted it. Her casual clothes that drew my eyes down her body, her shower as an excuse for her flushed skin, her lazy approach - nothing she did was by accident. But then again, neither were any of my own actions.

I stayed rooted in place, not moving, barely breathing, just watching her as she moved about her room as if she was merely getting ready for bed. My eyes followed her and I knew she could feel them. We had always been able to feel the other's gaze, their attention.

She sat on the far side of her bed from me, keeping distance and furniture between us. My smirk grew.

"What's so funny?" She asked coolly as she brushed her fingers through the wet strands of her hair.

I opened my arms loosely before me.

"This."

"My room is funny to you? You must be very easily entertained."

I chuckled, the edge of a growl sneaking out at the end. My Shift was always so close to the surface when she was near, which made it difficult to not make the sounds I knew she hated. The ones that reminded her I wasn't at all Human anymore, not like her, not like anyone except her enemy. I'd have to control it better in order to keep those thoughts far from her mind, but it was increasingly difficult when I could smell so much of her skin, even if it was masked by her soap, when I could hear her heartbeat like a church bell calling me to worship, when I could see her layered scars and remember how she tasted, when I wanted to give her so many more, to mark every inch of her just like had been done to me.