TimeBound (Time Tells #1) (COMPLETED)

Chapter Nineteen

Shock is my first reaction. Then pleasure, that colours my cheeks and puts a smile on my face that has me ducking my head. Seeming to realise he had made me shy, my demon of a husband begins to chuckle.

I throw him a glare, but I'm smiling as he tips his head back a little and smiles.

It's a gut wrenching feeling. Beautiful and heartbreaking, watching him laugh and smile so openly. Warmth infuses my veins. Maybe that's why I say what I say next.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." I offer him an out.

"Your words were my first meeting with you. So they are my first favourite unseen thing about you."

I still, stop breathing too, because I didn't want him to stop. I never want him to stop. I watch his eyes, molten ice. When he doesn't continue, watching me, I tilt my head.

"What did you like about the book, Kri?" I ask, curiosity filling me.

He watches me a minute and I realise his was another secret I was asking from him and it required a bribe.

"I'll answer something too." I say.

He looks at me a moment, before he responds. "I liked what I read." He says simply.

My brows furrow, not having understood what he meant. Seeming to see my confusion, my husband continues.

"You write as you are, Alanna." He says.

I smile.

He liked what he read. He liked me.
My smile brightens.

"Your question?" I ask, my smile turning blinding at what I took to be a small glimpse into my husband's mind.

But I should have been watching my husband, his eyes, his jaw...both of which had hardened.

"Are you happy, Alanna?" He asks me, quietly.

My smile slowly slips away, my gaze locked on his. My heart picks its pace as I reel at the impossible coincidence of his question to this morning's phone call with my mother. My eyes narrow.

"What else did you hear?" I ask, my voice almost shook, because my father had also asked if Kri remembered—

I suck in a sharp breath. Something curls inside my stomach and thorns pierce my inside. I wasn't ready for him to know. I wasn't—

"I didn't hear anything." My husband says, "But Houston keeps me informed of your mental and physical health."

My gaze drops to the forest floor.

"And your inability to answer that question was a flag on the chart." My husband says.

I look up at him. "Was that what this was?" I ask, indicating our surroundings with my hand.

Something hardens inside me, ice curling around my heart and reflects in my tone.

My husband understands my meaning and something flickers across his face but it's gone before I can even notice it. He takes a single step closer and suddenly, he's towering over me. His presence is almost too overwhelming. All the walls that had risen up at my question inside me tremble under his gaze.

When I see sheathed but evident anger, the tremble turns into quakes that begin to shake them in their place.

"If an answer was all I wanted, I would have asked you straight." He says, "I wanted to bring you out, I brought you out. I'm not the one who plays games."

I reel back, "Games?" I gasp out, "You think I'm playing games?"

His gaze is a narrowed beam of ice blue, "Don't deny it." He says, "You're not the kind to be quiet and accepting. You're fire and passion, you burn silently but with a fierce strength. But you're smothering it all in lieu of something else."