“I haven’t changed, Veil Vulturine.”
I understood immediately what he meant, but even now, I have trouble accepting it.
That I’m the one who has changed.
Especially when I still feel like an outsider, looking in.
The question is, how muchhaveI changed? Even thinking of it now, I find it hard to come up with a tangible answer when the change feels ever-lasting, always morphing, alive, sentient.
Then I feel it.
Like a soft caress against my skin. A slow, drifting wind. A summer breeze.
My expression must have shifted into something akin to alarm because Gemini is suddenly on his feet, eating the distance between us with quick strides until he’s kneeling near my head.
“What is it?” he whispers, as if today never happened, as if he didn’t just spend most of the day ignoring me.
But I sense the shift, too. This moment is much bigger than our petty squabble. We can revisit it later because having him by my side right now is far more important.
His gaze is seeking. Imploring.
“I think … I think I can feel my god’s presence,” I whisper slowly, not wanting anyone else to hear. “It’s almost tangible now like — like I could reach out and touch it.”
I glance at the couches, but no one is paying us any attention. It feels almost deliberate, as if they know this specific moment should be private, one shared between us and no one else. Of course, there’s Axil still tattooing my back, but they seem to know better than to interrupt or try to engage.
Gemini’s eyes glimmer with pride as he slides his hand over my arm and squeezes. “Just another tattoo,” he says with a wink.
36
GEMINI
After Veil’s back tattoo was completed and carefully protected by an adhesive barrier, I saw the faint exhaustion in her eyes and brought her right back to the house so she could rest.
She resisted going back to our bed, saying she’d rather nap on the couch. She didn’t ask, but I could tell she wanted me to stay close. And although the anger was still simmering beneath the surface, I acquiesced with no hesitation, but made us change into comfortable clothes first and foremost.
She’s been napping for a few hours now, lying flat on her stomach as I read beside her. Her head is close enough that I can reach over and caress her hair. This time, when I do, she rouses and lets out a moan that sends a warm shiver down my spine. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she looks at me with owlish eyes, and I smile at her sleepy, slightly off-focus expression.
“How long have I been sleeping?” she asks, her voice low and raspy.
Gods be damned. She’s divine.
“It’s almost evening,” I quietly answer. “How are you feeling?”
She sits up fully, her eyes lifting to the ceiling, as if thinking. “Sore,” she says. Her smile is soft but roguish. “Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”
Her smile falls, and before I can decipher what she’s doing, she’s crawled up into my lap and circled her arms around my neck. Her actions inexplicably leave me speechless as her head falls onto my shoulder, her warm breath tickling my naked chest. I wrap my arms around her waist, making sure not to touch the sensitive skin of her back.
“I don’t think …” she says, her words stuttering, as if she’s figuring out what she actually wants to say. “I don’t think I want to apologize for what I said this morning.”
I have no choice but to laugh; it rumbles deep in my chest, but I don’t speak, wanting to hear what she’ll say next. She gives my arm a small slap, as if finding the situation somewhat amusing too.
“But … how can I fix this?” she asks quietly.
“This?” I say, slightly teasing and intentionally echoing our earlier spat.
“Us,” she presses as she burrows the cold tip of her nose into my neck. “You ignoring me. I hated it. I hated knowing you were angry with me.”
“I wasn’t …” I trail off, not finishing my sentence because when she called me a monster, Iwasangry. Confusingly upset. And ignoring her was the easiest way for me to evade these uncomfortable feelings.
