Chapter 34: Diogo
"Did you plan to meet him tonight?" I demand furiously, dragging pants over my legs. "Did you set this whole thing up? Convince me to take you out tonight with the intention of seeing Gunther?"
She rolls onto her back and sits up, flinching as her tender pussy touches the bed. She grabs the blanket and drags it up her chest, covering herself. Her makeup is badly smeared into a ghoulish mask that no longer resembles the sugar skull she'd painstakingly applied earlier. I ignore any guilt over her bruised flesh. She brought this on herself. She should be dead for this betrayal. Yet I can't bring myself to harm a hair on her head.
"No!" she denies vehemently. "I had no idea he'd be there." Then she pauses, thrusts a hand through her hair and looks up at me with those beautiful, haunting grey eyes. "I suppose I could've guessed he'd be there. He's attracted to crowds and he would've been on the lookout for me."
"Why?" I demand, my voice coming out in a snarl. "Why would he look for you?"
She swallows and presses herself back against the wall. I drag the mask from my face in order to lessen some of her fear. But it's not the mask causing it. My actions have proven that she should be afraid of me.
"I was one of his best rebels," she explains. "You know that, Diogo. You knew what I did before you captured me. It's only natural for him to seek me out. Find out about my welfare, see what I "
She cuts herself off and looks guiltily down at the bed.
"See what you've found out?" I finish for her. "Spy on me, feed information to the rebellion?"
She nods and then raises her eyes to mine. "But we both know that there was nothing to tell. We don't talk about that stuff."
I sit down on the edge of the bed, my back to her. Perhaps it's a foolish thing to do, give an enemy my back, but I can't bring myself to believe that Taran is violent. Not unless she's defending herself.
"And if you had information to give?" I ask her, not really wanting to know the answer. I don't want to hear the words of betrayal on her lips. This woman who's obsessed my mind, enslaved my body and shown me what love looks like inside myself. Yet she's right. She's a rebel, and I'm the city Warlord. We're automatic enemies.
She doesn't speak right away. I feel her shifting behind me, then the light, tentative touch of her hand sliding up my back. She places it on my shoulder and rests her head on top of it, kneeling behind me, her body pressed to mine. Warmth seeps through me, draining some of the anger.
"I don't know," she whispers honestly.
I'm satisfied with her answer. She didn't lie to me. Didn't tell me what she thought I'd want to hear. She searched inside herself and gave me her truth and though this evening has changed things between us, it has also given me a new and deeper understanding of my wife.
I take her hand from my shoulder and pull her around, twisting with her and laying her gently on the bed. I stand and blow out the candles before laying with her, holding her against my side. "Sleep, Taran."
She snuggles into my side. A moment later, her voice reaches me through the darkness. "What are you going to do?"
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