“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 daemon 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.
