I take my time feeling every inch of his back, trying to imprint each scar into memory. I still intend to teleport to Rexton’s childhood home once he releases me. I’m happy with this momentary distraction, though.
It’s given me time to think.
I’m going to murder his parents—that isn’t up for debate—but I shouldn’t be too quick with it. I’m going to scar them the same way they scarred Rexton. They’re going to experience the pain of every individual lash, and then I’ll burn them alive. Rexton can watch. Or participate. Whichever he prefers.
His thickest scar stretches from his right shoulder to the left side of his lower back. It’s deep, and the skin feels leathery. How long did this take to heal? As a shadow, Rexton would’ve had slower healing than most demons. It could’ve taken days, if not weeks.
It could have killed him.
“I’m going to kill them,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Rexton’s tongue flattens against my neck, and my eyes flutter shut. What’s he doing? He licks the skin trapped between his teeth, tasting me, before letting out a low groan and pulling away.
He doesn’t go far. His hands remain on my waist, and they tighten as he lifts his head just enough to press his cheek against mine. His stubble is rough, but it isn’t unwelcome.
“Please don’t.” Rexton shifts again, pressing his forehead against mine. It’s an intimate gesture—one I haven’t experienced in years. I like it, and I hold eye contact with his pleading gaze. “I’ve moved past it, Cassia. Let it go.”
“No.”
“Don’t make me beg.”
I snap my jaw shut, hating what he’s asking of me. Let it go? I don’t do that. His parents don’t deserve to live. He has to know that, and I don’t understand why he hasn’t done anything about it.
I’m Aziel’s daughter, and Rexton executed Mammon. Nobody will bat an eye at either of us killing some random Wrath couple—even if they are wealthy, pompous assholes. I won’t let him take the blame, not for this.
“Rexton, I—”
“Please, Cassia.”
I suck in a shaky breath, struggling to hold in my anger, before nodding. I won’t make Rexton beg, even if I disagree with his decision.
He relaxes, probably sensing the tension leaving my body. “Thank you.”
I hum.
Rexton smells good. It’s not something I let myself acknowledge very often, but it’s impossible to ignore when he’s this close. He’s unclothed, too, but I haven’t had the opportunity to look at anything other than his back.
I continue feeling his scars, each lighting a fire inside me. The chance of my giving birth to a shadow is exceptionally low. My bloodline is powerful, and as far as I’m aware, there’s never been a shadow in my family line.
But I’m half-human, and if I had children with Rexton…
I shift, not allowing myself to finish that thought. I’ll love my children. I don’t care what form they emerge in.
Besides, Rexton would never want to have children with me. He should, and he should feel honored that my mind strayed there for so much as a second, but I know he wouldn’t. Rexton doesn’t seem to care much for my power. He’s not as impressed by it as most people are, and I get the impression that he finds it to be a hindrance.
That’s likely because I’ve tried killing him on several occasions.
Rexton remains pressed against me.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask.
I want him to. We might as well. We’ve already placed our teeth on one another, which I’ve decided means he’s mine. It’s a unilateral decision, one Rexton might not be pleased about, but he should’ve thought about that before biting me.
Rexton’s still my enemy, but I’ve grown fond of how he speaks to me. Plus, it’s abundantly clear he needs somebody to look after him. If people found out what his parents didandthey learned that he’s done nothing about it, they’d take advantage of him. I can’t let that happen. He needs me.
“Well?” I urge. “Are you going to kiss me?”
Rexton shifts, his fingertips digging into my waist. “Do you want me to? You just ordered me to wash my scent off you.”
