Perception ✔

12 Foxes & Rivers

One tear was all it took for Edmond to put the iodine and cloth down. He hovered his hands before me but didn't know what to do.

"What's happened?" he asked. The fear in the quiver of his voice nearly broke me as well.

I hadn't cried in years. I couldn't remember the last tear I'd allowed myself to shed.

So, I tilted my head back, shaking.

This was foolish. This was foolish and unnecessary and...and foolish.

"What. Is. Wrong?" Edmond asked again.

But the measured tone held a challenge.

Once I dared return his gaze, he looked fit to kill.

"Did he—?"

"No." But it came in a sob.

That was all it took for him to slam the iodine bottle down on the table as he stood.

I leapt at him, catching him from behind, my arms around his neck. It was no easy task with his height. My action petrified him. Despite the thumping of his heart, he didn't move.

"No," I assured him. "Everything is fine."

But he wasn't like others. With anyone else, a hug, an embrace of any kind came as a comfort. For Edmond, it signified something else.

He broke my hold and helped me back into my chair. Our eyes met and he said, "I won't tolerate this. If he's—"

I kissed him.

He wasn't the only one frightened into motionlessness.

It wasn't strong, or for all that long. It was just enough for him to stop talking madness. I wished I could say it was sensual or even passionate but it was...awkward.

His eyes stayed perpetually open, terror written in his shocked expression.

I waited for him to move.

To do something.

Now, the motionless one was I. I needed for him to say something, anything.

When he broke our gaze and reached back on the desk for the cloth, I hated him.

His intent was to say nothing. He wrung the small bottle of iodine between his hands, again and again, affixing the stopper.

Finally, he said, "Don't ever touch me again without my permission."

All air left me.

It hardly mattered when he remembered himself and added, "Please," before standing.

My eyes didn't follow him. Instead, I stared at where he once was.

A prouder woman would have had an answer for him, perhaps an admonishment.

Nothing came from my mouth beyond, "Then I'm asking for permission now."

He paused in his retreat, although I didn't know how close he was to that door.

My heart thumped, beating so hard, mixed in with my dread, disgust, humiliation, and dread yet again. I feared if I opened my mouth, it would leap from my throat and stopped beating before me.

It seemed an appropriate ending to how things came about.

Eons passed before he returned, crouched down, and said, "What is it you think this is? That...that I'd planned this?"

I took another kiss to stop his nonsense. He moved away this time and at the next. By the third he fell back, and I landed atop him. His hand on my shoulder held me at bay but calmed in time.