Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

“What, no denials? It’s not like you to not have a good
cover story all ready to go.”
He ignores my blistering sarcasm. “Whoever it is, you
can’t trust him. He’s only trying to get close to you to find out
information about me—”
I interrupt loudly, “I know. I’m caught up there, too. It’s
been a laugh a minute the last few days, let me tell you.”
He crouches down in front of me, grasping my clammy
hands and staring into my eyes.
“Tell me who contacted you. Tell me what’s happened.
Tell me how you got here—everything.”
He must be able to see that I’m about to gouge out his eyes
with a nice, sharp jab of my thumbs, because he adds softly,
“Please.”
I can smell him now that he’s so close. That old,
intoxicating mix of spice and sandalwood. Sweet and creamy,
smooth and warm, it wafts into my nose like a siren’s call.
be.
How I used to love that scent. How comforting it used to
Emphasis on “used to.”
Instead of feeling surprise or pain that his voice, scent, and
lingering gaze no longer have the power to move me, I’m
incredibly relieved.
It’s going to be so much easier to tell him to go to hell now
that I’m not in love with him anymore.
The image of Kage’s handsome face flashes in front of my
eyes. When I forcefully blink, it vanishes.
“You first, loverboy. Tell me why you left me the day
before our wedding without so much as a goodbye. Massive
case of cold feet? Or did you hit your head and remember you
were already married?”
He draws a deep breath, then releases it, bowing his head
to rest on our clasped hands. Unlike mine, his forehead is cool
and dry.