"Achilles…"
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," I warn her.
She's braver than me, facing the horror head on. "Is your father the one who assaulted you?"
"Can you live with the answer? Knowingeverything?"
"I can live with anything you throw my way, as long as you feel safe doing so."
The shock renders me speechless. What kind of angel is she? And who put her in my path? Who can love through everything? Nyx has the capability of loving unconditionally, of dreaming without limits, of always hoping for something better to come.
"I was nine," I blurt out. But it's defensive. "I didn't know what it was, or what it meant. I didn't understand, okay?"
Leaving her seat, she steps close to mine and kneels in front of me. As she takes my hand, I realize how cold my extremities are.
"You never,everhave to justify anything when it comes to this."
My nostrils flare, my throat narrowing. Not because I talked about it. I've lived with that moment my entire life. It brings anger but no pain anymore. But because I'm scared. I'm scared of losing her. Isn't she disgusted by me?
"It isn't possible to still love someone knowing what you know, Nyx."
She shakes her head, smiling so beautifully I almost don't notice the tears in her eyes.
"There's no stronger love than the one that comes once you know the darkest parts of someone. You know mine, don't you?"
I nod.
"And?"
I lean forward, holding her face between my hands.
"And I love you so much that, for the first time, life feels worth living rather than surviving."
My lips skim over hers as she murmurs in a challenge, "Then live it."
I press my mouth so hard against hers that she falls back, and I follow, crushing her body underneath mine.
"This is mine," I growl as I devour her mouth in burning kisses. "Not just your body, Nyx. Not only your soul or mind.This." I wrap my hand around her throat, obsession taking over me. "Your love."
"It's yours," she moans against my lips. "Cherish it."
"I'm going to worship it,mon trésor."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nyx
Anarchist – YUNGBLUD
Achilles is a dangerous man. Yet, somehow, over the course of just over two months, I’ve turned him into a puppy that couldn't hurt me if he tried. I don't know if it was entirely me, or if he was subconsciously waiting for someone to give him a safe space to truly experience life. The result is the same.
"So?"
His monosyllable makes me jerk in surprise.
"Can I come?" he insists.
I blink up at him as I take a sip of my coffee. We're at The Basement because we can't take two steps on the SFU campus without people whispering. Music students say I've got my spot as first chair because of Achilles. The rest of the campus says that I'm a gold digger in general. Women Achilles fucked and never called back throw glares my way. Peach has been distant, and I don't understand why.
