My attention, once again, slides to that tattoo slithering along his perfect chest. The room feels too hot. I need to get out of here. I shake my head. “No, thank you. Can you tell me where Marik is?”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns and leaves the kitchen. I follow him, trying desperately not to stare at the way the muscles in his back ripple with every movement. He leads us up a flight of stairs, then turns right when he reaches the landing. He points down the hallway. “Last door on the left, princess. Let me know if you need rescuing again.”
“Thank you, Asmo,” I say, looking into his dark eyes. “For your help last night,” I say sincerely.
He doesn’t respond, but I feel his eyes on me as I turn and walk down the hallway. When I get to Marik’s door, I turn to look back. Asmo’s gone.
I knock softly on Marik’s bedroom door.
“Yeah?” Marik calls from the other side of the door. I crack the door open. Marik leans against his headboard in a T-shirt and boxers, legs stretched on the bed. His hair is tousled and the wound on his head is already completely healed.
His eyes widen when they see me. He scrambles to throw the blanket over his lap. “Mae! I wasn’t expecting you. Otherwise, I would have put some clothes on,” he says.
I wave him away and say, “Sorry for the unannounced visit. I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing after last night.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been through much worse.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Really? Worse than getting attacked by a cambion?”
“I told you a little bit about my childhood the other night,” he says with a shrug. “When Asmo and I were younger, our father used to make us fight each other until one of us lost consciousness. So, getting knocked out isn’t anything new to me. It’s never pleasant, but it’s familiar.”
He told me about their parents’ brutal childrearing practices, but to force them to battle each other? For consciousness?
I don’t have words.
I can’t speak.
I enter the bedroom, closing the door behind me. He moves over on the bed to make room for me to sit.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Marik,” I say quietly as I sit next to him. His thigh presses against mine, solid and warm.
He shrugs. “I’m stronger for it. It sucked, but I’m a better man because of it. The world is cruel, but I can handle it, thanks to my father.”
I shake my head. “The worldisn’tcruel. Not like that. Nobody deserves that.”
He casts his gaze downward. “No disrespect, but the worldisthat cruel.” He leans back and drapes his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him.
“Enough of that. How areyou?” he asks me. “You’re not used to stuff like that. Are you okay? Even though I’m used to it, cambions are still scary, even to me.”
I take a shaky breath and say, “Yeah…it was terrifying. I’m so thankful that Asmo was there.”
He scoffs.
“What?” I ask, turning to look at him.
“Nothing,” he says, but he won’t look at me.
“Marik,what?”I ask again, repeating the question with force.
“I’m just not convinced he wasn’t playing with dark magic again.”
My eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets. “What? Again? What do you mean? You think he summoned them?”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry I said that,” he says quickly.
I lean away from him and glare at him. “Marik,whywould you say something like that?”
He takes a deep breath, then says, “My brother is…the way we were raised messed him up. He used to play with dark magic when we were younger because it pissed our parents off. What I just said was stupid because only witches can summon cambions, so it couldn’t have been him that brought them here.”
