Once inside, I find my sister, give her a quick hug, and head straight upstairs.
I take a hot shower, scrubbing less than I usually do. At least my skin is not raw afterwards, and I don’t reach for the blade. That should feel strange, but it doesn’t.
Because of Markev.
Since coming here, since sharing a room with him, my head has been quieter.
I don’t want to hope for more than that, only to return to the academy and lose myself again, slipping so far into the void that I can’t find my way back to anything that feels like living.
I step out, dry myself, rub lotion in, and dress in soft clothes. This cold air is brutal on my skin.
I leave the bathroom and my eyes land on Markev, he is stretched out casually on the bed in nothing but his boxers. His eyes move over me hungrily, and I don’t miss the way his cock hardens beneath the fabric.
I roll my eyes.
He flexes his abs and winks as he gets off the bed. He stops in front of me and, before I can react, grips the back of my head and pulls my mouth to his. He groans into the kiss.
“Fucking intoxicating,” he mutters.
I push him back lightly by the chest, my eyes catching on the empty patch of skin over his heart, bare of any ink.
I can’t help wondering, every time I see it, why that spot is empty. His arms are sleeved, ink runs across his knuckles, covering his chest, his abs, his back, even creeping up his neck, yet the place over his heart remains bare.
I should probably stop staring at his tattoos so openly, but they really are remarkable. There is something about the detail, the intention behind them, that unsettles me.
I have ink of my own.
I love it.
Every piece of it. I designed it myself, poured time and care into every line, and it belongs to me completely.
And still, his feel different. They carry weight.
Soul.
They call to me, and I don’t understand why.
I even find myself wondering who his tattoo artist is, whether I should ask the next time I consider adding more to my own.
“You’re drooling,” he smirks.
I snap out of it and look at him. “Go take your shower. We’re ordering food,” I say. “I’m starving.”
The word hungry seems to flip a switch. He disappears into the bathroom without another word, the water starting moments later.
I occupy myself for a while, mostly replying to a message from my father and Adriano. When I hear the water shut off, I leave the room, knowing he will follow shortly.
I head downstairs, my hair still damp, my elf slippers barely making a sound.
Everyone is spread around the living room when I enter.
“Any thoughts on food?” Hunter asks.
“Pizza,” Piper says immediately.
He nods. “Done.”
“I fancy sushi,” I add.
