"It's more a state of being than a curse," I clarify. "As I understand it, when the gods divided the Nether from the mortal realm many thousands of years ago, Limbo was an unintended side effect. It was a living echo between planes of existence, and humans began to dream for the first time as their subconscious naturally reached for that echo. And because souls first pass through Limbo and then the Nether as they sink to the Beyond, they leave more echos behind."
"Wisps and shades," she guesses.
I nod, watching her smooth hands hover around where she begins healing one of my fingers. "But the reverse is also true. When anything passes from the Nether into the mortal realm, it creates a ripple in Limbo. Those ripples allowed wisps and shades to run amuck. The gods quickly realized how chaotic and dangerous the dream plane was if left unchecked, and they assigned a steward—an incubus marked from birth, equipped to manage Limbo and all its dangers. Time after time, random incubi have been born with this unique curse. I'm the latest."
"You…manage all of Limbo?"
I hum in agreement, distracted when she begins dabbing the poultice around the damaged stump of my ear. It's slightly numbing and feels nice, but not nearly as nice as her touch.
Then I notice how tightly her lips are pressed together.
"Something bothering you, love? You don't have to touch me. I can apply that to myself."
"No. I'm annoyed at the gods. They're assholes for giving you that curse."
I smile. "On the contrary. They saved my life by marking me. My curse was the only thing that kept those immortal halfwits from killing me when my mother announced that her mysterious baby was Somnus's bastard child. Natalya was livid, and Somnus wanted to kill me on the spot, but killing the designated steward of Limbo would have offended the gods. Not to mention, since the steward comes around so sparingly, the Immortal Quintet must deal with the extreme repercussions whenever a steward dies young. Which happens often."
In this one thing, I don't offer Maven the whole truth: that stewards always die before the age of thirty, some even younger. The strain of plane-walking is just too much to live long. Even though I'm half-monster and more powerful than the stewards who came before me, I doubt I'll last many more years.
But I won't stain what precious time we have together with that knowledge.
She studies me, reaching up to brush some of my hair away from my forehead. I close my eyes in pleasure when her fingertips trace along the swirling patterns in the skin of my neck.
"This is how you were marked from birth?"
"It makes the chosen steward impossible to miss."
"Are the markings all over you?"
I open my eyes to give her a seductive grin. "Ask me to strip and find out."
Maven gives me a deadpan look. "Are you really trying to instigate something when your hand is covered in fourth-degree burns?"
"Why not? It's not my hand I intend to use."
Her lips twitch, and I go perfectly still when she leans forward to press her mouth against mine.
I mean to be good. Truly, I try not to escalate it.
But then she gently nips my lower lip, and all sense leaves my body. I kiss her back hungrily, relishing the way she opens for me and the tantalizing exchange. When she bites teasingly on my still-tender tongue, I tense and pull back with a breathless laugh.
"Careful, love, I've just got that back."
I can tell she wants to ask what I mean, but I kiss her again, addicted to the softness of her lips. My cock is stiff as steel, the piercings around the head creating extra friction against the inside of my pants, but I dutifully ignore it.
But when I start trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, I can sense the subtle shift in her demeanor. Though she tries to hide it, her muscles tense, and her breathing increases. Not in an excited way. This skin contact must be bothering her.
Once again, I wonder about that subconscious therapy idea.
I quickly pull away and smile apologetically. "Forgive me. If I'm ever pushing things too far with you, hurt me any way you like. I'll have earned it."
Maven snorts softly, shaking her head. "I can handle kissing. I'm not made of glass."
"Believe me, love, I know you're not."
She tips her head, eyes narrowing. "How muchdoyou know?"
I wrap some of her hair around my uninjured hand because it feels like I'm anchoring her to me. "I know you're from the Nether. I saw you come back not once but twice, so I would venture to say you're no longer human. And based on where I found you, I believe you intended to kill Melvolin, so I assume the rest of the Immortal Quintet is fair game for you, as well."
