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I thought about it for a moment. “My heart hates that I am doing this to Aurelius, but what else can be expected? The heart that beats within has always been his.”
Even now, it ached. Viscerally. Even though my mind was made up. And this time, it was my mind I was trusting.
She nodded, her eyes looking ahead. “Maybe it’s time you quit answering with his heart and look to yourown.”
“How? I do not have one that is my own,” I exclaimed softly, my brows pinching together.
“No?” she challenged. Her stormy gray-blue eyes shifted to mine. “Then what are you doing here?”
I understood her point, or at least, I thought I did.
And so, I decided, I would trust that voice inside that told me I was doing the right thing. I would listen to it this time, instead of blocking it out like I had done countless times before.
I took a deep breath and followed everyone else inside the castle, Destiny at my side.
Sage
Icould feel him etched into every crevice within this castle—his incredible, dark power, ancient and brutal. It hung on the air, thick and claiming like smoke, but without the lung-choking effect.
How much of himself had he poured into this castle’s creation?
Because it felt like his power had been entombed everywhere—in the ribbed and vaulted ceilings, in the intricate, incredible patterns that were chiseled throughout, in the massive, looming columns that stretched from floor to ceiling.
All of it served to pronounce a claim—this castle and this realm belonged to him.
What it must feel like . . . to belong to him.
I made a face, wondering where the unprecedented thought had come from.
“How much longer?” I asked the goddess who had been walking beside me for the past half hour, but when I looked down . . . she was gone. I glanced over my shoulder to see if she had fallen behind, but empty, vacant space was all that remained in my wake. And when I looked ahead, the people that had once walked in front of me were suddenly gone too.
I was alone in this sprawling, massive corridor—more grand room than hallway. But I wasn’t alone, was I? I didn’t need to turn, because like always, I could feel when he was close to me.
“Little Goddess,” the darkness purred behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was something so much more than that . . . something I’d tried for decades to bury deeply within myself.
“I have come to make a deal with you,” I spoke over my shoulder.
“Another one? You have yet to fulfill the last one we made, darling little bride,” he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. I didn’t need to see him to know that the left side of his mouth was most likely twisted into a sensually wicked grin. Over the years, I had come to memorize his features and his mannerisms—like a sculptor, I had etched every detail of him into my memory. “By the way, did you like the placement of this tattoo? I thought it was rather . . . cheeky.”
I wanted to snap my teeth at him, but I didn’t because I knew his ways—his games. Refusing to play them, I said flatly, “I hardly think of it.”
“Well, it’s not exactly in a spot you can easily see,” he teased. His feet, silent and lethal, made no sound as he closed the distance between us, his shadow falling over me. I could feel the heat of him caressing my back in soft, dark radiance. “Do youknow why I picked that spot?” His voice was low. Dangerous. Intoxicating.
Slowly, I turned towards him, my lashes lifting.
Our gazes met, and for a moment, all I could hear was my heartbeat, thundering wildly. Then the sound was gone, swept away and stolen by the storm standing before me.
“Why?” I asked softly, hooked on the allure of the God of Death.
“Because—” he smirked, “—on the night of your creation, when I took you to my mansion in the Living Realm and you dropped the sheet and swatted that plump little bottom of yours, all I could think of was how badly I wanted to sink my teeth into it.” His gaze raked over me, eating me up. “That little act of yours had me biting my knuckles for weeks, so tattooing your fine little ass with my mouth’s signature seemed to be a fitting way to torment you,justas you have me.”
I knew it washisbite that was inked into my flesh.
Of course, it was his.
I had been mortified when my lady’s maid asked what was stuck to my bottom. But that was just it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t stuck. The bastard had inked his bitemark into my ass. I had sworn up and down that I would get vengeance for it, but now that the divinely tailored god was standing before me, I was curious . . .
