“Because you left!” she said, her eyes burning with anger and hurt. “You left seven years ago!”
I was surprised by her words, given she had cut my hand off.
“I neverleft,” I said.
“You’re lying, and if you’re not, then I hate you,” she said. “Where were you when I needed you? When Iwantedyou?”
Wanted me?When had she wanted me?
“I tried to help you,” I said, rising to my feet. “Why do you think I gave you the knife?”
“You mean the knife that ruined my life?” she snapped.
“Yourlife?” A hot wave of anger erupted inside me, and I held up my arm to show her my hand was no longer there. “What aboutmylife?”
She paled and averted her eyes before turning her back to me. I couldn’t decide what her reaction meant. Was she ashamed, or did she find me repulsive? Though I abandoned that line of thinking quickly when she started to take off the tunic I had lent her for the night.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, though it was mostly because I was flustered, both because she was about to abandon me and because she was naked. She had undressed with little hesitancy, exposing her entire body to my starved eyes.
When I had first looked upon her, I’d never seen anyone so beautiful, and that remained true now, though it seemed wrong to be aroused in the middle of this fight. I tried hard to stay focused on her face, but my gaze slipped, especially when she turned around to throw my tunic at me. I caught it and dropped it on the floor.
It was the least interesting thing in this room.
“I am leaving,” she said, turning to pick up her gown.
I drew nearer. She was like a flame, and the closer I got, the hotter I burned. I also didn’t want to scare her.
“Samara,” I said, hoping my voice sounded calm and quiet. “Look at me.”
She froze. I didn’t think she would listen, but maybe she was inclined because she felt vulnerable, cornered and naked before me.
That was not what I wanted, but I did want her to listen.
She straightened and looked up at me. I was so close to her, I could feel her breasts brush my chest as she breathed. It was sweet torture.
This will be my punishment when I die, I thought.
Or maybe it would be looking down into this beautiful face and seeing her eyes glistening with hurt.
“You left me,” she said, and despite the threat of tears in her eyes, she spoke between gritted teeth.
“I thought that was what you wanted,” I said. “You cut my fucking hand off!”
“Well, I didn’t, youfuckingidiot,” she said. “Jackalheld my hand around the knife. It was he who took your hand and ruined your life.”
I straightened, and she took a step back. “You think losing my hand ruined my life?”
She blinked, obviously feeling like that was the worst thing that could have happened to me.
“I could have borne losing my hand far easier if it wasn’t for you,” I said, inching toward her until she could go no farther, her back pressed into the wall, though she didn’t look afraid. She looked angry. “You. You have stolen everything. I have had no peace since I looked upon your face. You haunt my every step. You linger in my dreams. I can do nothing without thinking about you, yet you say I have ruinedyourlife!”
“I loved you!” she seethed, rising onto the tips of her toes. “I loved you, and you left me!”
For a few quiet seconds, I couldn’t move or breathe. Her words had stunned me.
“You loved me?” I asked. I could not believe it. I needed her to say it again, but she didn’t speak.
I shifted closer, though we hardly had any space.
