Chapter 8

“How’s the grub?”

I nodded quietly as I dipped the spoon into the rabbit and vegetable stew once I had finished eating the legs.

“Very good, Elijah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Maisie Girl,” he replied cheerfully.

I glanced over at him and smiled slightly.

He was sitting comfortably on the lone, tufted, white velvet recliner, happily eating the gourmet food he had made for us.

But it wasn’t his content demeanor that made me smile.

It was because he had finally taken off the goddamn leg prosthesis that I knew made him uncomfortable if he wore it for too long.

I didn’t care about it, but he did. He once told me that he never wanted anyone to look at me like I was different for simply loving him, just because he was.

“I’m fine, Mais. This isn’t as a big a deal to anyone on the outside looking in. It was the only way I could prove to you that I never forgot you or how you used to do your best to keep me safe from them. And if you think about it, while it didn’t happen on an actual battlefield, this was an act of war.”

I asked him why and he answered as truthfully as he could.

That’s how he explained it to me the first time he pulled on his prosthesis in front of me.

The way he spoke those words, so matter-of-factly, like I should have just known how deeply his love ran for me … They sang to the monster that I had become, eased the suffering, even if just for a moment, and I never asked him again.

“What’s the matter, Mais?”

“Huh?”

Elijah grinned as he set his plate down on the table stand next to him and eased himself onto the carpet. I watched as he scooted across the flooring toward me, then when he reached me, he slid his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“You looked like you were lost in thought. I was just wondering if it was something I said earlier—or maybe something I cooked,” he finished dryly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I lied quietly.

“Oh. So, I’m seeing things?”

I turned my face slightly. It was enough to look at him but not directly in his eyes. Are you?I wondered.

“Not like that, Mais,” Elijah chuckled. “I haven’t seen anything in days.”

“Oh.”

He let out a sigh as he gently began to rub my stomach. It was his way of trying to diffuse the situation before it happened. Perhaps he wasn’t seeing things, but he could have very well been hearing them.

“Didn’t I promise you that I would tell you?” he asked me softly.

I nodded as I lowered my eyes to my plate before I let out a sigh of my own and set it down on the other side of me.

“Everything is fine, I promise,” I lied again. The only thing that bothered me was the knowing that he wanted to be with me… in a way I never could.

It wasn’t because I didn’t want to—it was because I couldn’t.

Elijah moved his hand from my belly to my arm and slowly began to trail his fingers up and down my bare skin.

I closed my eyes tightly.

I didn’t want to tell him yet again that we couldn’t.

I didn’t want to continue to break his heart, but what else could I do? I refused to lie to him and tell him that perhaps one day it would be possible when I knew it wouldn’t be.

Elijah leaned farther into my body, and when his lips grazed my neck, I jerked away from him violently.

“Sorry, Mais, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” I said as I got to my feet and scooped up my plate.

Without a backward glance, I walked toward the kitchen and felt my mad, beloved devil watching me with longing in his eyes.