When we reach, I don't pretend as if I'm waking. I just straighten and step out of the car when Bal opens the door for me. My husband walks around the car and leads us to the elevator. With Bal with us, both my husband and I remain quiet.
When we step into the house, we keep our silence and enter into our separate rooms to shower and change.
After running the towel over my hair, I toss it into the hamper that opens up for me and step out of the room. I don't see Kri anywhere and I consider knocking on his door—
"He's waiting for you in the living space, Mrs. Kri."
Even Houston is more subdued today, as if she can tell from our moods that we were not in an exactly good mind space. I push past the swivel door and almost stop when I see my husband sitting with one arm spread along the back of the couch, relaxed into the seat as he flicked through something on his phone.
As if he sense me, his lashes lift.
Seeing the dim swirls, my anger splinters into my awareness. Not at him, at me. I hop off the path and stalk towards my husband.
His gaze is on me as he tilts his head back when I come to stand before him. I narrow my eyes at him.
"You haven't fed." I say.
He tilts his head, a small smile lifting his lips, "You haven't offered."
I clench my fists and press my eyes closed. God damn it. I open my eyes and look at him with all the anger and remorse I feel.
"I'm sorry." I say even as I settle on the couch beside him, one knee folded flat along the seat while the other leg hung over the side. My husband doesn't move, a lazy look in his eyes while still stretched out, except to turn his head to keep his face toward me.
"This is one thing you can always always take from me." I murmur, spilling the conviction of my feelings into my words, "Whether we fight or are having a good day or the house is on fire. This is a given."
My husband's eyes burn into mine.
"Do you understand?" I ask him, my gaze tracking over the purplish bruises under his eyes. I lift one hand as if to cup his face, but stop before our skins can meet.
I drop my hand.
My husband turns too, mirroring my pose, except his arm was folded with his elbow propped against the back of the couch.
"This, among many things, Alanna is not freely given." He says.
When I start to speak, he shakes his head once, almost gently and I quieten, sinking my teeth into my lower lip.
"It matters that it happens with your consent." He says, the weight of his conviction almost a touch across my skin.
I suck in a sharp breath and scoot closer, "Kri." I whisper, the backs of my eyes burning, "You always have my consent."
He has the most tender look on his face and it almost breaks me.
"Sometimes, I won't." He says, his gaze flickering over my face, "And that's fine."
My brows furrow, "What are you saying?" I whisper, "How could I..how would I ever withhold this from you?"
"Because, Alanna," My husband says, leaning closer, "It's an intimate act."
I still, his breath ghosting over my lips.
"You're providing me the sustenance I need to survive. I draw on the energy you create and release into the air. I tap into what the humans refer to as aura. Do you know what that means?" He says.
YOU ARE READING
TimeBound (Time Tells #1) (COMPLETED)
Romance"Who says your life ends only when your heart stops? It ends even when there's a celebration around you." A marriage. To a man who had saved my parents' life. Their respect, their businesses, their home ... But at a cost. The cost being me. I was...
