“That’s good. I thought you would get better quicker with how fast I was able to make you corporeal. Toth, I’m so fucking sorry,” she says.
I’m not sure how many times Mara has apologized to people before, but I can tell she truly means it in this moment.
“You didn’t stab me with a blade,” I respond.
“I might as well have. I didn’t listen to your orders, and that was the worst time to give you your memories back,” she admits, tucking herself into her blankets, trying to make herself seem smaller.
“They weren’t your memories to take,” I growl.
“Really, the memories are what you’re mad about? Not me blatantly disobeying your orders? You nearly dying?” she screeches like I’m the one being unreasonable.
“Yeah, the fucking memories,” I reply.
“Well, I gave them back. I didn’t think you cared.”
“I should have gone into battle with them. This would have never happened if you weren’t throwing a tantrum and making me forget.”
“Excuse the fuck out of me for wanting you to have the choice of wanting me or not,” she sasses.
I laugh. It’s in a condescending way, but I can’t help it. Her face shows her irritation, and I lean in close to her face, pointing at her.
“That’s the fucking point. I didn’t have a choice, and if I had those memories before battle, I never would have let you talk me into staying,” I snarl.
“That’s a fucking lie!” she counters.
Pushing away from her, I throw my arms up in frustration while shouting, “It’s not. I wouldn’t have gone in there so loosely if I knew I had something worth living for.”
I watch her throat bob when she swallows. She tucks herself further into the blanket like it’s going to protect her from me or this conversation, I’m not sure. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down before speaking next.
“They weren’t your memories to take, and it wasn’t your job to make any choices for me. You’re a siren, who gives a fuck? You make Hell fun. I like arguing with you and when you push my buttons. No one else dares to talk to me the way you do.”
She just burrows further into the bed; can’t have that.
“You’re the reason I’m back,” I tell her plainly.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“When I was stabbed, I tried to portal myself back here in the hopes that Lucifer would be able to save me. It appears, with my ability, I was able to portal just my soul.”
“I’ve… I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that.”
“Me either, but I had a reason to continue this ridiculously long immortal existence,” I tell her.
She blinks at me and shakes her head in disbelief like she isn’t the sole reason I’m still fucking breathing. If it wasn’t for her and those memories, I would have accepted a warrior’s death for the second time.
I crowd her space, getting closer to her, close enough to touch. But I don’t, not yet.
“I remember every thought and word shared between us in that warehouse, little demon. I should punish you for thinking you had the right to take something so precious away from me. I should punish you for making me care so fucking much that I’d rip my own soul from my body to have more time with you,” I say, all the anger inside of me dissipating like smoke in the air.
“Please,” she whispers.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Please, punish me. Make it even.”
I push a strand of hair out of her face, contemplating what I should say next. “I can’t think of a punishment fitting enough for what you did to me. But I think I can get creative.”
My hand grips the blanket, and I pull it away from her body, revealing her in a silky green sleep set. Her shorts ride up high, making her legs look endless, and I can’t help but caress and squeeze her thighs.
