Page 45

“Pandora.”

I jolt up with a gasp, lungs convulsing like they’re still filled with that thick smoke, but I’m not in that room. I’m here in these chambers with…Sitri bare-chested and hovering over me, one hand smoothing back my sweat-strung hair. The dāemon is beating painful shocks, so close to boiling over I shudder against them. “It’s okay. Breathe. You’re safe.”

I jerk upright, away from his hand, the room still hazy around me. I’m still gasping for breaths, and I clutch at my chest, forcing them to slow. “Breathe,” he says again.

I nod, leaning away, and he drops his hand to his lap but doesn’t make to move from where he’s positioned on the edge of the couch. He watches me, brows pressed with concern.

I survey the room, searching for signs the dāemon has destroyed something and brought him out of bed. “Hey.” He lays a hand against my arm, and I flinch back. He’ll feel it.

“Did I wake you up?” I rasp.

“I heard something…crash.” He rises to a stand and peers around the room. “One of my vials fell. Probably Div being a pest…” he mutters.

I don’t even think Div is here at the moment, but I’m definitely not going to correct him on that. I tug my knees to my chest, sucking in deep breaths, urging the dāemon to settle. A flick of his hand later, the vial shards clatter into the bin.

His eyes land back on me, disquiet flickering through them. “Your nightmares look pretty violent. Have they… always been like that? Or is that since you…came here?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I mutter, warmth building in my cheeks at whatever it is he’s seen. “I mean, I’ve always had them, but I didn’t know they were visible.”

“Has something…happened to you?”

“No,” I bite out, pursing my lips in a clear refusal to say any more on the subject.

His skepticism is palpable but he stretches with a groan, the muscles in his abdomen pulled tight with the movement. Wearing only those black briefs, you can almost see the outline of his entire…Oh my God. I turn my head sharply. This man should really wear more clothes.

“Did you….want to come sleep in the bed?”

“No,” I gasp out. I’d probably end up all wrapped around him again. I think his mind has steered in the same direction because he radiates a quiet amusement. “No, I’m fine.” I turn my head into the back of the couch, hoping he’ll get the hint I want him to leave.

I blow out a relieved breath as he retreats back to his room, however, he doesn’t close the door behind him. I soon learn it’s because his intention is to come right back out, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He slumps down on the other end of the sofa and kicks his long legs up on the coffee table. The lights dim, cloaking us in darkness as he flicks a hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you company from whatever it is that plagues your dreams,” he declares.

A familiar sentence. The same he said the last time he woke me from a nightmare.

“I think I already told you your company isn’t needed.” Especially with the dāemon in its state of thrashing.

“You were much friendlier earlier today.”

“Because I was drunk!”

“I thought it was only a little.”

“I lied.”

He snorts. “Go to sleep, pet.”

“I can’t even stretch out my legs!”

He lets out a hoarse snort. “I don’t believe that.”

I straighten my legs to prove my point, but they do, in fact, fit. He quirks one challenging brow. “They’re very close to you,” I grumble.

“Do you hear me complaining?”

I groan into the back of the couch before snapping my head back up. “Thought I was supposed to be your punishment? ”

His eyes flare in surprise before he smirks. “Not having its intended effect. But I should’ve known. Always have been a glutton for punishment.”

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“Hmm, no, that’s specific to you, I think.”

“And why do you insist on annoying me?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs as if he really doesn’t. “I mean, look at these.” He snatches up one of my feet, holding it up with a gleam in his eye in a manner of someone showing me a small puppy instead of my own damn foot. I yank my foot back with a growl. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He crosses his arms against his chest, letting his eyelids drift shut as he leans back. “Must be protected.”

I growl as I smash my head into the back of the couch. What if the dāemon reveals itself when I’m sleeping? I can’t have him coming out here to be my….guard dog, or whatever it is he thinks he is every time I have a nightmare. There’s not much for me to do aside from trying to forcibly kick him off the couch. Tempting…but I doubt my efforts will be fruitful.

I’ll just wait until he falls asleep and go claim his bed again. Despite my protests, his presence fills the room, lessening the sting of the nightmare and calming the dāemon back into a steady thump. Before I can make my move, I slip back into sleep.

The days pass excruciatingly slow, with Sitri returning late and leaving early, every day looking a little wearier than he had the day before. My days are spent listless or pacing out the torment of the dāemon, begging to be let out to destroy and ruin. It’s nearly a week later that Sitri returns in time for us to go eat dinner with Vera. I struggle to hide how desperately eager I am about that, and I can see the apologies in his eyes.

“I’m going to be in the castle tomorrow, so I thought tonight I could finally mark you,” he declares on our way to the kitchens.

Although I should be eager for a chance at a day out of his chambers, my gut sinks to the floor because the dāemon has been practically dancing all day. As soon as we greet Vera, I quietly ask her for wine and inhale glass after glass until the dāemon is deadened under its haze. Sitri’s brows inch further up his face with every subsequent glass I pour, and I ignore him.

By the time we’re hearkening back down the halls to his chambers, the dāemon is barely noticeable, and my body is heavy and sluggish. I study the paintings of past Kings that we pass by a little more closely. “Is your father up here?”

Sitri's shoulders tense as he continues forward, ignoring me, like the last time I’d asked him about his parents. But then he stills, gesturing to the painting on his right. “This one.”

“Really?” I ask, treading forward to scrutinize the burly, somber-faced man.

He releases a mirthless laugh as he turns to face me, gaze not meeting the painting for a single second. “Do you think I’ve forgotten?”

I look back and forth between him and the painting. “No…it’s just you don’t really look like him. More like your mother, I think.” I quickly slap a hand over my mouth. Damn wine. Now he’ll know I’ve been rifling through his things. And that sketchbook didn’t just have a picture of his mother but one of me, too.

His gaze turns shrewd as he presumably pieces it together. “Somebody’s been snooping,” he murmurs as he prowls forward until he’s leering directly over me.

“Y-you’re a very good artist.” I shift a few nervous steps back. He closes the distance again, picking up a strand of my hair and tossing it behind my shoulder. His lips scrunch to the side as he fights a grin.

“Careful, with your snooping, pet, you might find something you don’t like.”

Something I don’t like… Oh . Unfortunately, I already know exactly what he’s referencing. That colorfully illustrated book stashed under his mattress. I curse my flushing face as his grows more predatory, smirk transforming into a flash of teeth. “Found that too, did you?”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, or maybe I’m wrong and you did see something you liked?”

I groan and push past him. “Why are you such a—“ I break off, shaking my head.

“Thought you didn’t know what I was talking about?”

“I don’t,” I say haughtily.

His answering laugh reverberates down the hallway. “Such a what? A wolf? I’m not.”

“If you say so,” I say with a dubious expression.

“I’m not a wolf.”

I let out a soft snort, and the next thing I know, he’s positioning himself in front of me again to block my path. “Have you seen any women in my bed lately?” He quirks a brow and nods his head in my direction. “Aside from you?”

This conversation is delving into dangerous territory, and my heart picks up pace. “I'm not exactly keeping track, but I suppose that depends on your definition of lately.” It wasn’t really that long ago, considering.

His smile fades into something solemn. “I don’t like being told what to do. Or who.”

I look past him with a casual shrug. “Well, I’m not telling you what to do. Do whatever…or whoever you like,” I say, the words like a bitter bile on my tongue.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“If only it were that simple,” he says softly.

My heart palpitates. That’s not what he’s talking about… “But you’re a prince,” I say mockingly. “Thought you didn’t even have to try.”

“I’ll admit I’m not very practiced in trying.”

My face flushes and I sidestep him. I’m reading into things that aren’t there. I know Vera thinks so…but he’s probably like this with everyone.

However, the thought of him bringing women back to his bed…now, after everything, twists my stomach into knots. I don’t want to have to bear witness to that. Or hear it. I make a face. “Elsewhere would be preferable.”

He muffles a groan behind his palm that turns into a soft chuckle. “You’re frustrating.”

My brows pucker. Was that an overstep for me to ask that of him? I’m already subjected to a life behind these walls. I don’t think I should have to be subjected to that . I cross my arms over my chest as he unlocks the chamber door, and we slip inside. “Is that really too much to ask? I’m kind of stuck in here, you know. I don’t have anywhere else to be. You can go anywhere.”

He looks more weary than anything as he turns to face me. “What? No, pet. I’m not going to fuck anyone here…or elsewhere.”

“Oh.” Relief washes over me.

“No dragons either, I swear.” He says it so earnestly a giggle bursts free and he grins. “Or any other creatures, if you’re going to ask.”

“Wait,” I breathe, eyes wide. “Have you…with any other creatures?”

His face twists with incredulity. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

I shrug. “How should I know?”

“You should know!”

“Aren’t there human-like creatures? I don’t know. Maybe a dryad…”

His eyes bulge. “They’re trees, Pan. They don’t even—“ He gestures towards his crotch, and I follow the movement before quickly looking away. “Their methods of reproduction are completely different from ours.”

“Really?” I ask, curiosity brimming as I make a mental note to look it up in the grimoire later.

He chuckles. “I promise you I fuck only within my intended species.”

“But we’re not really the same species.” The words come spilling out, thanks to the alcohol that’s loosened my tongue. They hang there awkwardly between us. His lips part, a series of emotions flashing in his eyes. I flounder, embarrassment swooping deep in my belly. I basically admitted to wanting to…Fuck, how do I recover from that? “I mean—you said Gods and mortals—“

“I hardly consider us different species,” he interjects.

“You…don’t?”

“No, I mean, come on, Magi, at this point, we’re basically noughts with a tiny sliver of God. And mortals were modeled after the Gods, so even full-blown Gods and mortals aren’t really that different. I would…I mean, I consider us the same species…definitely…compatible.”

“Right.” I clutch at the back of my neck in total mortification as my eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape. I’m about to tell him I should probably get some sleep when I remember he still has to mark me. “How do you want to do this?”

He looks toward the bedroom. “The bed would probably be best.”

My eyes widen in horror. “I meant—how do you want to mark me not—“

He looks startled for a moment before he barks out a laugh. “I know what you meant.”

I’m close to having another go at the balcony shield so I can jump off of it.

“I’ll need a large area of skin, and I prefer to do it on an area that’s not visible. Your back would be best.”

A swift sinking feeling of dread envelops me. “M—my back?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean… unclothed ?”

He clears his throat. “Your back unclothed, yes,” he clarifies.

Of course, it’s my back. His markings are on his back. How did I not realize? I thought I was panicked before but now my heart is doing somersaults in my chest, a sheen of sweat accumulating across my palms. He’s going to see the scars. He’s going to ask questions. “Well—but—isn’t there somewhere else you could…”

His eyes flare in surprise. “I meant you could lie down on the bed,” he says, motioning a flattened hand palm down. “So, I won’t see you or anything.”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I just thought why not my arm or like my leg or something.”

“I don’t want these marks to be visible to other people.”

“I can wear long sleeves,” I suggest hastily.

“It’s not really a large enough area of skin for as many marks as I’m putting on you. Plus, your back is customary,” he says, motioning a thumb back toward his own.

My mouth pops open to object. Nothing comes to me as my eyes flit around the room, searching for any way out of this. I’ve already agreed. I’ve even agreed to the tracking so I definitely don’t have a valid excuse to suddenly bow out now just to hide the shame of my scars. He has scars…or a scar, he should be understanding. Yet his isn’t the outcome of years of torture to rid the dāemon possessing me. I can feel the blood rushing up to my cheeks.

His brows crumple, a leery concern growing in his eyes. “Pandora…you know I would never like--do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

He thinks I’m reacting to the idea of being unclothed around him. “No, I know--

“I mean—I know I kissed you—against your will-- and that wasn’t fair. Especially after I told you nothing unsavory and then I still...did that like a fucking idiot. But I would never do that or anything like that ever again.”

Never? Somehow now both of us are a fumbling mess and under all the anxiety I’m disappointed to hear him say that.

“You’re safe with me,” he heaves.

“No,” I say shaking my head. “I know. It’s not that.”

His eyes turn questioning.

“It’s fine.” I’m aggravated with the whole situation by this point, knowing what I’ll soon reveal and the words come out sharper than I intend them to. He looks a little taken aback. “It’s fine,” I repeat, calmer this time. “I’ll just—“ I point at the bedroom and his shoulders sag in relief.

“Go on then. I’ll knock to make sure you’re ready.”

I scurry into the bedroom and quietly click the door shut behind me. My quickening heart rate has called the steady thump of the dāemon even with the extra measures of the alcohol. No. I take a deep breath, urging it to settle. It continues bleating with my bubbling emotions. I run into the bathroom and allow it to unleash into a perfectly good bar of soap. It shatters it, sending soap flying across the floor in a hundred tiny pieces.

Shit.

I get down on my hands and knees, collect every bit, and stuff them into the trashcan. I tug my dress up, throw it on the floor, and give a precursory look at my back in the mirror. The many lashes are from many years past yet still absolutely noticeable.

There’s nothing I can do about it.

I unwrap the bindings from my breasts as I fly out of the bathroom, leaving me only in underwear. Diving under the blankets, I pull them up across my back. Maybe luck will be on my side and he’ll only reveal the top portion of my back.

I’m practically naked in his bed.

My hands feel awkward at my sides, so I draw them up over my head, trying very hard not to think about the conversation we just had about our compatibility.