“Don’t bother answering if you’re just going to lie.”
I resist the childish urge to stomp my foot. “Because I don’t want you stealing from me.”
“What would I possibly steal from you?”
“Wrath!”
Rexton blinks. “For fuck’s sake, Cassia!” He paces the length of the bathroom. “How many times do we need to have this conversation? I have no interest in taking Wrath from you. I was happy to sit back and let you take the lead at the infirmary, butyoutold me not to. There’s no winning with you.”
I never said there was.
I let down a small corner of the barrier I built up between our bond, just enough to pry into Rexton. How angry is he?
He turns, pointing a finger in my direction. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
The barrier shoots back up.
We glare at one another, neither of us speaking. I don’t know what to say. Objectively, I understand I’m being irrational, but I can’t help it. This is who I am. This is who I’ve always been. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I ruminate. I worry. I create narratives that don’t exist, then I act on them as if they’re absolute truths.
Rexton looks down, chewing on his bottom lip before groaning and beginning to strip off his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You marked me for a reason,” Rexton says. “You care about me, even if you’re too afraid to admit it, and I let you bite mebecause, for some ungodly fucking reason, I feel the same way about you.”
He refuses to meet my gaze as he removes his clothing and spins around, showing me his back.
“I’m ashamed of the scars,” he starts, “and I worry that you find them unattractive. I don’t want you to think less of me because of them.”
I take a second to collect myself as I’m faced with the mangled state of Rexton’s back, and I force myself to remain calm as I shift my focus to his spear wound. There’s a hole where the spear went in, but to my relief, it seems to be healing. I can no longer see through Rexton’s torso.
“They don’t bother me,” I whisper. “And I don’t think less of you for having them.”
I mean it, too. For as vain as I can be, I don’t mind his scars. Most demons, Wraths specifically, would view them as a sign of weakness, but I don’t. Rexton has already proven his strength to me, and it will take more than a few scars to change my opinion of him.
I clear my throat. “I find every part of you attractive.”
My hands shake as I step out of the shower, closing the distance between us. Rexton continues facing away, and his back muscles stiffen as I approach.
My mark has scarred his throat. I wasn’t gentle when biting him, and his scar reflects that. Most demons revere their mate marks. It’s one of the only scars demons look forward to receiving, but it’s occurring to me that Rexton might not have wanted one. He already has so many.
“Does my mark bother you?” I ask.
Rexton shakes his head. “No.”
“It’s big.”
“I like it, Cassia.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Good.I bring my mouth to his neck, letting my lips trail over the scar. I think it’s beautiful, and I’m pleased that everybody who meets Rexton will see it and know he’s taken. It leaves no question of his commitment toward me.
“Mine.” I graze my teeth over the mark, an action I hope Rexton perceives as a threat. He belongs to me now. “You’re mine.”
