She raised her head. In the darkness, her eyes glimmered. “I only want to be yours.”
“You already have that, my Queen.”
Her claws threaded his hair, stroking, tangling, then disappearing. She moved off of him, but only to untie his ankles.
As soon as he was free, he caught her in his arms and dragged her back down, drawing her against his side.
She twisted to his face. Her fingers brushed his collarbone, tracing lightly without the slightest scratch from her claws. “Goddess, hm? I don't hate it.”
“Blasphemy is one of your hobbies, after all.”
She let out a small laugh, her warm breath blowing over his shoulder. “I need another dip in the bath. And then we willsleep.” A tired sigh left her lips. “I don't know what to do–”
He kissed her. Perhaps it was selfish to want her all to himself for a night. Just one night.
When he let her go, he said, “Think about it tomorrow, Anais. Try to rest tonight.”
She agreed readily and headed to the bath. He excused himself on account of not wanting to distract her from sleeping. While she was gone, he breathed deeply the scent of roses.
—
Morning light hit his eyelids, but he was far more interested in the soft warmth nuzzling his shoulder.
“Good morning, goddess,” he murmured.
“Mmm.”
Her mouth was busy kissing her way across his collarbone. Her hand slid onto his chest, resting over his heart.
This was the best way to wake up.
He didn't open his eyes. That felt like a step toward starting the day, and he was perfectly happy never getting out of bed again.
She licked and kissed his neck. He angled his head to give her better access. Her tongue could do marvelous things. He should know. He taught her a few of those things.
Her leg shifted over his. Perhaps starting the day wasn't such a terrible idea after all. He cracked open his eyes.
The sheets shifted downward.
His mind was slow. He grabbed at the edge, but it slipped out of his fingers. “Wait–”
It was too late. The sheets flew off his body.
Anais sat up straight, all the heat of a moment before doused with ice. “What is this?” Her eyes were fixed on his chest.
He had forgotten. For a moment, a few hours, a single night, he had relaxed in the comfort of her scent, her warmth, her voice, and he had forgotten.
Tap, tap, tap.
Her hand hovered above his chest. “They did this to you. She did.”
Cold green eyes roamed his scar-woven skin. But what she glared at wasn’t a new scar.
His breaths were shallow, his mouth dry. He waited for her lips to twist in disgust, her gaze to shift to the side in embarrassment, or perhaps the softening of her features in pity. He waited for her to see him for what he truly was.
Ruined. Used. Worthless.
“She marked you,” the Queen hissed, her voice a storm of shock and rage.
