book 5: wounds

Gilgamesh is in a haze of static, ears muffled by the pounding of his heart. Eyes glazed over, misty and betraying the feelings he tries to shove away. He doesn't notice Jael move closer to him until she reaches out. He almost starts, his body freezing and muscles tensing, hair raising along his spine until he looks down at the small dog. There is a softness, the lines loosening as he registers who it is. Her words send a jolt of electricity through him, but he still doesn't move. He lets her in, allows her to be close, but he can't deny that he also wishes it were Modesty too. What the fuck had he done?

She speaks more words and he lets out a sigh, his resolve crumbling as he nods in agreement. When she presses to his chest, he leans in slightly, but not too much. He can't give in completely. He has others to think about than just himself. That had been a realization that had stung. Was he really that selfish? "I'm sure it'll be fine," Gil rumbles (it won't be, she got him fucking good), finally sliding away from Jael to move toward the fireplace. Crumpling down onto his side with the wounded shoulder facing upward, he lays his head down on the cold stone. His heart is torn into two, one side for each woman, but he's not even sure about that. There's something in there for Jael that he cannot deny and doesn't want to give up, but he loved his wife...