“Darling, might I remind you that we aren’t all immortal?” I call out, wandering back into our chambers. Flames dance happily in the lanterns hung on the paneled walls, their lights jumping as I pass through the sitting room to our bedroom. “I may very well die of boredom if you leave me in suspense any longer.”
Willa’s laugh rings out from the bathing room. “You’d think you’d have learned a little patience since you were stuck on an island for two centuries,” she calls back in a sing-song voice.
I roll my eyes, stretching out on top of the duvet and staring up at the seven carved stars at the top of the headboard. Willa has been oddly secretive today—first, insisting on going into townwith Marina and then, upon her return, ducking immediately into the bathroom without so much as an explanation.
It is odd behavior for anyone, but for Willa—who I know to be both clever and diabolical in her schemes—it’s downright alarming.
“Should I be preparing myself for an ambush?” I ask dryly, grimacing as my death slides like broken glass over my chest. “Have you been collecting weapons in there?”
Willa pokes her head out of the door, her eyes narrowed. “Do you deserve to be ambushed, Corpsey?”
I shrug, warmth unfurling in my chest at the welcome sight of her face. “I’m sure that depends who you ask.”
She hums in amused agreement. “We’ve already established that if I’m going to attack you, I’m going to make sure you’re looking me in the eyes when I do. No ambushes.”
“You truly are a cruel little tease.”
Willa’s eyes sparkle, and at the small smile that plays at the corner of her lush mouth, I consider lunging at her to drag her back into bed with me. It’s been hours since I’ve had her beneath me, and suddenly, it feels unbearable.
Seeming to read my thoughts, she gives me a cheeky wink, and disappears back into the bathroom. “Two more minutes!” she calls out. “Don’t be a grumpy old man. It’ll be worth it.”
“You are also old!” I reply petulantly to the closed door.
Willa’s returning laughter is muffled. I do as I’m told, counting down the seconds impatiently in my head. My death shudders in time with my huffed sigh, and I’m just about to say ‘fuck it’ and deal with her wrath, when she appears again in the doorway.
Her long hair tumbles around her face and over her shoulders, the caramel and gold highlighted in the soft lantern light. She wears only a silky black robe that comes to the top of her thighs, showing off the tanned expanse of her legs. The corner of hermouth is tipped in a smirk, as she watches my teeth dig into my bottom lip with amusement.
My want of Willa has not lessened in the weeks since we reunited. It has flared like fuel poured onto a fire, growing and twisting me into the feral creature I am now—half out of my mind every time she so much as glances in my direction.
It takes me an entire fucking minute of staring at her to realize she’s holding something behind her back. At my questioning glance, a blush creeps over her cheeks, tightening my pants and increasing my curiosity.
“I—I had an idea.” Willa sounds almost shy, which only further confounds me as she’s never been one for demure diffidence.
“How frightening,” I reply mildly, pushing myself up to sit at the edge of the bed. “And rather ominous.”
Willa’s pout flattens in annoyance. I rise with a laugh, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her onto my lap. Immediately something in me is sated, the pain and want of death muted momentarily by the rightness of her against me. I pilfer the package from her fingers, and hold it up for inspection.
A tattoo gun.
“I don’t know if it will even work,” Willa blurts out before I’ve even gathered my thoughts. “Marina has been helping me toy with it, and we’ve made a few adjustments with my magic. But there’s no way to reallyknowwithout trying…so it could all be for nothing.”
She bites her lip, glancing sheepishly from beneath her lashes. “But I—well, I thought…” She swears loudly, huffing out an annoyed breath before trying again. “I thought…if you’re the only one who can hurt me, maybe…maybe you are the only one who can leave a mark.”
I drag my gaze from the gun to her face, as something tightens so furiously in my chest that, for a moment, words feelimpossible. Stunned silence stretches between us, until I finally manage to rasp, “What are you saying?”
Willa’s eyes dart to the door of the chambers for a long moment, like she’s considering bolting out of it rather than continuing this conversation. But instead, she brings her gaze steadily back to mine. “I want you to tattoo me.”
I stare at her. “You want—you want me to…”
My words trail off helplessly, my eyes drifting back to the tattoo gun in her hands. Small and silver, similar to the one Chrys has used on me over the centuries with a few added modifications as Willa said.
“I got the idea after you said you gutted Pan with a hook. It has to be intimate, right? Not magical, but physical. So theoretically…”
“What kind of tattoo do you want?” I ask faintly, feeling somewhat outside of my body. Like I’m floating near the ceiling, watching myself mishandle the conversation like an idiot.
Willa’s blush deepens, the delicious color serving to settle me back into my bones. “I want the story of us. I want to wear it on my skin, just like you do.”
My throat tightens, and overcome, I lean my head against her chest and squeeze my eyes shut against the wave of emotion. For two centuries, I have been encased in the ice of death, but Willa has cracked me open to the elements. After so long buried, I am raw to the elements, every feeling so intense, sometimes it actuallyhurts.
