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“I won’t deny she’s that. Nor can I claim that she hesitates to push people too hard—it would be a downright lie. But I made it clear that you’re mine.”
“That might have made things worse, if she’s the jealous type. Plus, I’m not so sure she’d take your possessiveness seriously. In her mind, I’m a mere mortal who can’t possibly have any real relevance to you. So, in my view, is there a chance she might ignore your warning and keep being a sneaky game-playing bitch? Yes.”
Of course Wynter would think that. She had no idea just how serious his declaration would be taken by the other Ancients. “I don’t believe she’ll dare bother you again. She has plenty of reasons to heed me. And, to put it simply, she won’t view you as worth being tortured for.”
Wynter did a double-take. “You’d torture her if she kept on bugging me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Her brow creased, and then she nodded. “Oh, I see. It’s not really about me, it’s the principle of the thing. If she disrespects your wishes, she has to pay for it.”
“That woman has disrespected my wishes more times than I can count. I’ve never bothered using any form of violence to repay her for the insult, because I’ve never managed to drum up enough emotional energy to care all that much about anything she does or doesn’t do. But you … I won’t have her play games with you.”
“Only you get to fuck with my head, huh?”
“Exactly.”
She chuckled and zipped up her duffel. “Did you always have that little weird sadistic streak, or does it come from being alive so long that it twists you in some ways?”
“Twists?” He settled his hands on her hips and drew her close. “You see immortality as a negative thing?”
“No, I think it would depend on the individual. It might suit some but not others.”
“And would it suit you?” he asked, careful to keep his tone casual.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’d like who I’d eventually become. I mean, there have been several times throughout my life when something was important to me but, somewhere along the line, it lost its significance—maybe because I changed, grew bored of it, or took it for granted. If I was immortal, that would happen to me over and over and over. I wonder if there’d come a point when I wouldn’t truly value anything anymore.”
In that case, she didn’t see herself clearly. “It’s true that immortals change repeatedly, and so things that once mattered eventually no longer do. That’s why it’s important that an immortal is able to change and adapt—something I doubt you’d struggle with. If they become too rigid and unbending, they’ll eventually grow to hate their life. Although some things cease to matter, it isn’t a case that you come to value nothing at all.”
“What kind of things do you yourself value?”
“Honesty. Loyalty. Strength. Honor. I see all those things in you.” He gently flicked her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck so he could kiss a path down her throat. “You wouldn’t lose those qualities if you were immortal. They’re too embedded in who you are. Sort of like your soul’s foundation blocks. Everything you are is built on top of them.” He scraped his teeth over her pulse, his stomach clenching at her little gasp. “Hmm, I think I should fuck you here before we leave.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He backed her into the bed. “Every time you walk into this room, I want you to remember what I did to you right here on this bed. I want you to remember that you’re mine.”
She snorted. “Like you ever let me forget. Now get your cock out and do me. I can feel my energy coming back, so it’s gonna be hard for me to sleep tonight unless you can fuck the energy right back out of me.”
He felt his mouth kick up. “That’s a challenge I’m happy to accept.”
*
“You know, I had it in my head that it’d be good to come to the surface for some fresh air,” Delilah said, as they all wandered around the plaza the following evening. “But the air weirdly feels fresher in the underground city.”
“It really does,” agreed Wynter. Still, it was nice to occasionally stroll around the surface and have a little change of scenery. The main reason she insisted on it now and then, though, was that it was good for Anabel to leave the house. Her natural anxiety only worsened if she confined herself inside four walls for too long. And since the blonde currently needed to top up on supplies, Wynter had proposed a shopping trip.
As usual, Anabel was as edgy and hypervigilant as a soldier in a warzone. But rather than walk slowly and hesitantly, she moved with speed and purpose, clearly determined to get the whole thing over with so she could go home.
Wynter asked her, “What else is on the list?”
“We’ve bought everything other than the bottle of wine I need,” said Anabel, who put all kinds of stuff into her potions so that they didn’t taste disgusting.
Hattie gestured up ahead. “There’s a liquor store over here.”
