“That’s it. Deep breaths.”
He sucked in fifteen different tiny bursts of air and then exhaled another shuddering breath. He repeated that a few times and then finally managed to lift his head from between his knees. His hands shook so badly, he could barely control them as he dragged them through his hair again and again.
“Are you okay?” Iris’s green eyes were wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean to push you into that. I shouldn’t have asked you to do something you weren’t comfortable with. I’m sorry.”
She thought he was having a panic attack because he’d let her take control. “Not... that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I—You—” He gasped again.
Fuck, this was the most embarrassing, shameful thing he’d ever experienced. Forget centuries of being a brainwashed, subservient little slave. This was the worst.
“What is it, Meph? It’s okay. You can tell me.”
“You—I don’t—”
He swallowed, telling himself to man the fuck up and stop acting like an idiot. But he couldn’t. He could only stare at Iris and think of all that dumb shit he wanted to do like hold her hand and hear her laugh.Fuck.
“I feel—” He choked.
“You feel what?” She searched his face, intent on understanding.
“I have...” He swallowed. “Feelings.”
She blinked. “Feelings.”
He nodded.
“What kind of feelings?”
“For you.”
Understanding dawned, and her eyes widened. “You have feelings... for me?”
He nodded again.
Silence.
A million things passed across her face, and for a moment, he swore he saw her beautiful green eyes brighten. Something started to soar inside of him.
But then he watched her expression go carefully blank, and whatever had just taken flight within him crashed and burned.
Her eyes deadened, all the concern bleeding out of them. Her posture went stiff, her hand withdrawing from his skin, her entire body closing off. Her jaw clenched, her mouth pressed into a hard line, and she angled herself slightly away from him.
Yeah. That was about what he’d expected to happen.
“That’s too bad,” she said flatly. No emotion. It was like talking to a robot. “I was really enjoying our arrangement.”
He stared at her. It felt like he was dying. Like someone had put a blade of ice straight through his heart.
“Shame it has to end,” she said.
The ice blade stabbed him a second time.
He stood. His head spun from its continued lack of oxygen, but he managed not to black out. His hands were still shaking so he clenched them into fists. Their gazes were still locked, and he waited to see anything in her eyes, any softening or emotion or expression, any flicker of what he’d seen before.
There was nothing. Not that he was surprised.
