“Keep talking, and I’ll make sure to burn them from your mind,” Sin warns, and I melt back into him a little more.
“Come on,” Damien says, elbowing Varian in the ribs. “I’m guessing they’re here to train, and I promise you won’t want to miss this.”
The dragon shifter throws me a longing look and sighs as he turns to follow. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he calls over his shoulder.
I shake my head. “I won’t.”
He mimes a broken heart and then turns away.
“Killing people really isn’t the best way to make friends,” I point out, as we step into the largest training arena.
It’s at least ten times the size of the arena in the Shadow Realm where Sin and I were training. The ground has been reduced to bare dirt from what looks like eons of training. A simple wooden fence wraps around the space, and already, people are hanging off it, whispering and nodding our way. Others are gathering on a grassy hill, watching us intently.
I’m not particularly keen on having an audience, but I’m hopeful the size of the space means they won’t be able to hear us.
Sin shrugs when we reach the center. “I don’t do friends.”
I give him a dubious look. “You’re friends with me.”
“That’s different,” he notes, and then gives me a devilish grin. “You’re mine.”
That’s just unfair.
My heart skips a beat, and I almost trip. Still, I don’t drop it. “You’re friends with–” I pause, realizing I was about to say Morgana, “Arianna.”
He huffs, “Only because she refuses to respect command structure. I need to preserve that structure to protect our family.”
His reasoning makes zero sense to me. “Why can’t you protect them and be their friend at the same time?”
“Friendship would distract me from their safety,” he answers simply.
Seeing my opening, I take a step closer until our bodies are almost touching. “Do I distract you?”
Instantly, Sin grabs my arm and twists it behind my back. He shakes it a few times until I drop the dagger that I was trying to pull on him. Once the blade hits the ground, he presses his body flush against mine.
“You’re my favorite distraction,” he purrs, before licking my neck.
A small whimper escapes my lips, and he smirks before releasing me and picking up my dagger.
“Alright, kitten, let’s start with a warm-up. No magic, draw my blood.” He holds out the blade to me.
“You might want to use a blade, too. I’m immortal now, so I won’t be easy to beat. In fact, you might want to get a first aid kit,” I tease.
Sin only crosses his arms, looking bored.
Trying to catch him off guard, I rush him, only for my back to hit the ground with a small thud. Sin has my hands pinned to my sides, and my legs are caught under his.
“You might have a chance if you let me fix our bond. But not like this. I can feel how tired you are, kitten. I know it’s hurting you.” His voice is a low murmur, all hints of teasing gone.
More guilt floods me. I haven’t been doing enough to shield him from the side effects.
“Every time I bring up fixing your soul, you’re hit with guilt, sadness, hurt, and loneliness. Why?” His jaw is clenched, and his worried eyes search mine, desperate for answers.
My stomach does a flip. I know he could easily jump into my mind and get the answer for himself, especially after he threatened to cross any line to save me. And yet even now, he’s holding back.
“I’m asking you to talk to me, kitten. Trust that I’ll listen,” he pleads.
I purse my lips and think about it – like really think about it. To some extent, I understand where he’s coming from. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t hesitate to help. But no matter how many times I mentally go through the argument, it all comes down to the same problem.
