As Sick As Her

21

Orion King

All I can do is miss her. Ruth Foster. I knew after sleeping with her that I'd become infatuated with the idea of only her, but this is a all time low for me. I couldn't do anything today, no work, no meetings, not even talk to my idiotic brothers. All I can do is think of Ruth. Her lips. Her breasts.

Even now when she's out shopping for her wedding dress, all I can do is lay here, and pathetically miss her presence. I'm not whipped. I'm far from it, but she isn't all that bad, and she's pretty to look at.

"Glad to see you're not avoiding me anymore," I'm met with Atticus who's sitting in my kitchen, uninvited, and drinking, "It's about time, Orion."

"This is my fucking house, Atticus." I remind him, and roll my eyes. I move to the refrigerator to grab something to eat, ignoring his wondrous gaze.

"Where's the girl?"

Ruth. "The girl has a name, idiot."

"So. You slept with her?" His eyebrow raises. I don't see why that's any of his business, "Fuck."

"If you're asking if it meant anything, and if I like her, the answer is no," I tell him, "I don't feel anything for her, and this changes nothing."

A throat clears from behind me. There's only one other person it could be. I sent Anne home earlier, and all of my other workers. Amiri is a man, and the throat cleared, is clearly a women's. It's Ruth's.

"I'm just going to grab a water," Her voice is soft, and low. She does what she said she would, grabbing a water bottle, and leaving.

I turn to Atticus who's sitting amused at the fact that Ruth heard me call what happened between us Nothing. "One day, I'll punch you in the throat."

"I love you too, Sister." Atticus smiles back at me. "I need to talk to you. You can deal with that later."

• • •

A conversation with Atticus, which was supposed to last minutes, ended up lasting hours. The part that pisses me off most, was that it wasn't important. Another threat was made on my life. This isn't anything new, or critical. Many want me dead.

Including her, Ruth Foster.

I bet if I handed her a gun to shoot me, she'd do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn't blame her, but I also believe that she and I are more alike than I'd like to think. A part of me wishes she isn't. If she is, she'll meet the same fate as me. Death. Believe it or not, I want her to live. A woman like her, is rare to find.

I knock three times on the door, before going in. Like always, she's reading her mother's journal. Is this a thing with her? Reading the journal whenever she's upset? She seems to do it a lot. I don't blame her for that either. I didn't love my mother much, but I can see the love Ruth has for her mother. Even when she's dead, that woman played a role in her life. Ruth admires her, but also regrets being alive. Because she is, her mother isn't.

"You shouldn't have heard that."

Ruth nods, "But I did."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have," Because I didn't mean it, and because I do feel something. Not love, but something. Her light eyes glare at me for a moment, and then return back to the faded pages of her mother's old journal, scanning it all over.

"You don't owe me any explanation. It's fine. I didn't expect one night . . . to change anything."

But it did, "Did you find a dress?" I change the topic, posing her a question on the wedding dress she went out to buy earlier. "If not, I can take—"

"I found a dress." She cuts in.

I gave her my black card to spend it on a dress, and whatever else she'd like. "Alright, well." I clear my throat, trying to find a way to not sound so stupid, especially when she's still mad at me, "Can I?"

"Can you what?"

I grunt, and leave the room out of anger. She knew what I wanted. It's what I always want with her, to lay besides her, her hand in my hair, me sleeping peacefully. Fuck it. I don't need her. I'm Orion King, I don't need anybody. Especially not Ruth.

If anything, she needs me. I should have Adonis kill her cousin right now, just to remind Ruth who she's dealing with, but I don't. I won't. I make it to my room, and immediately get into the right side of the bed, my side. It feels painfully empty without her on the left side of it to comfort me to sleep.

After minutes of tossing and turning, I give up of trying to sleep. It's hard to. Each time I close my eyes, I see the faces of everyone I've killed, and it's a lot. They haunt me in my dreams, the same way I haunted them when they were alive. Karma's a bitch, and she has my number tattooed on her skin, because it's like I can't ever catch a break with her.

I hear my bedroom door open. No one comes in here, and it's late. I'm probably now hearing things because of my lack of sleep, so I shrug it off.

The bed dips, and I feel a hand find it's way in my hair. Her hand. I know it without even having to see. It's Ruth, and she's here. Why? I don't deserve this. Her. I tasted every inch of her last night, and said today, that it was nothing. It was everything.

She's everything, and more.

"I'm sorry," I hardly ever apologize, but to her the words feel so natural coming out of my mouth, "I don't know why I said that earlier. I'm sorry."

"Mhm," She hums, still massaging my hair.

"I feel so needy with you, Ruth. It terrifies me," I admit, "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Tell me I'm not stupid for wanting this with you. You kidnap me, kidnap my cousin, threaten us, and yet, I can't help but want you. Tell me I'm not an idiot for believing that there's some good in you." There isn't. There never was, and never will be. But for her, I'd go through the depths of my soul, to find some, any little piece that I can. I owe that to her.

I owe her every micro piece of good, that I can find.

I reach my hand out, and place it on the side of her face. I brush a few pieces of her beautiful hair back, and place my lips on hers, "No. You're not stupid."