Praetorian Rising, стр. 42
Her gaze pulled away from the intensity of his expression down to his full lips, ones which she couldn't help but linger on. Her sense of modesty disappeared whenever he looked at her, and it made her lips form into a smile without even thinking.
"I can't even begin to tell you how good it is to see you again," he said, allowing his free hand to wander the sides of her waist. His fingers splayed wide against the small of her back, pulling her forward with the tiniest bit of pressure against her spine.
Despite her effort to recall his face, his aromatic, woodsy scent and the barely contained look of lust he was giving her, she still couldn't place him in her memories. She sighed with frustration, longingly staring at his face. "I'm sorry," Camille said, pulling away. "But I don't remember you."
Without warning, Theo's hands caged her face, and he dragged her to his lips, pressing with such intensity that she could barely breathe. Her entire body froze with delightful surprise as wave after wave of desire shot through her system like a roaring fire. His mouth moved with purpose, nipping at her bottom lip sending a sharp tingle of excitement zipping down her spine. His fingers threaded through her hair to yank her closer, sending jolts of electricity over her skin. His every move, each fervent touch, the heat of his body pressing against her—it all filled her like a drug she didn't know she'd been craving.
Theo pulled back for a second but remained close enough that their breaths mingled and danced in circles. "Mother Ma'Nada, I've missed these lips, your smell, your taste; I've missed you."
Her stomach dropped like a sinking stone into an open pit of nothing. Immense frustration boiled within her and she jerked back, breaking the spell Theo had cast with his mouth. "No, stop it. I can't do this. I don't remember you."
Theo hung there; his arms still outstretched as his face pinched with massive confusion. "What do you mean you can't? We are." He tried to pull her close again, and she automatically shied away, hitting the door behind her. Theo's expression crumpled with the understanding of sudden loss.
"You are a stranger to me, Theo. I'm not going to remember no matter what you try. A kiss won't bring her back—this girl you think I am. I don't know you, and you shouldn't be entertaining some fantasy you've had."
"'Fantasy?'" he croaked, his voice low and unsteady. "Our lives, our memories—those aren't fake Cam. They're more real than anything else in the world; you just have to try to remember."
"Well, I don't remember, okay?! Whoever it was that you knew before is no longer here. She's gone!" Camille shouted, shoving him away.
He stood there, mouth agape. "I can help you, Cam. I can show you," he said, his hand outstretched in an offering of peace and vulnerability. It didn't soothe the burn of discomfort boiling inside of her as she stared at his proffered extension of friendship. His bare hand, smudged with dirt, reminded her of the attack in the forest, of the Equestrian guards that pressed on her weakness to gain her submission. She took a small step backward, fists clenched at her side as a wave of nausea rolled over her.
"Cam," Theo said in a whisper. "I'd never hurt you. You know that."
"How could I possibly know that? I have no idea who I am, let alone your intentions. There's nothing past the last year—no memories, no family—nothing. You're nothing!" The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, jabbing at him like a blade of ice.
Theo wore his emotions like a crown, the swirling moods and sharp mental pivots visible to see in his physical stature. Knowing him less than a few days, she could read his emotion like an open book. His entire body tensed as her words crashed into him, the warmth of his tender offer sizzling beneath his frozen, cobalt glare. In the span of a sentence, she'd unknowingly torn away his glowing crown, the agonizing effects consuming him whole.
"You're right about one thing," he said taking a massive step away from her. "You're not the Camille I used to know. She'd know that no amount of time or distance could ever come between us."
His words slapped her across the face like acid, sharp and stinging. She had no response, nothing that could heal the injury she'd just caused. And yet she stood her ground, unmoving in her resolve. The gap between them grew into a broad valley of disenchantment as Theo turned and stomped away from her.
"Sleep well, Camille. Breakfast is two hours past dawn," he bit out over his shoulder, not bothering to look at her.
"Theo, wait—" Camille clipped, clinging to her doorframe. "I'm s-sorry..."
He either ignored her or didn't hear what she'd said. Either way, she felt the air zip out of her chest, and a familiar chill slipping into her bones. She was left to stand by herself in a dark pit of regret she had no idea how to escape from.
***
Vesyon pressed the stubborn tobacco more securely into his pipe with his finger. He enjoyed his small rituals, the mindlessness of them; they allowed him a reprieve from the chaos his life was usually comprised of. A little moment of control and silence amidst all the noise.
The calming snap and pop of breaking logs in the fireplace before him filled the room with a soothing ambiance, and Vesyon leaned into the high back wing of his chair. Phillip's office was sparsely decorated yet felt completely comfortable. A long oak table across the room held a lamp, a pen, and a pad of paper. No mess, just basic necessities—that was the way of the General. It was the reason Vesyon had grown so attached to the man in the last