?“Liar,” she snaps. “You can practically see the obsession dripping from your eyes.”
?“Esmirra, leave him alone,” Thorne calls as he begins wrapping his hands. The bone witch tuts but doesn’t say anything more. It should be studied how jolly the witch gets when she’s around the blood demon. Thorne seems to be the only one who can get her in a good mood.
?Me, Varian, and Thorne all subtly shift when Mavyn comes out of the changing room as well, and the fucking witch scoffs at it as she turns and walks to the other side of the arena. After her fight with Mavyn, she’s kept her distance from her. And Mavyn has not released her aura like she did before.
?Her aura had draped over the school for weeks after that. Whisps of red were visible up until last week. Since then Mavyn only spars with Kyno or one of us, but I can tell she’s holding back. I can feel an urge running through her bones.
?In regard to all of us, nothing much has changed since our little meeting. At least, not with me. I’ve also kept my distance though. Despite what Thorne said to me about seeing her soul, she has yet to approach me. Even though the four of us have slept in Varian’s bed together almost every night.
?Her scent gets stronger as she continue approaching us. All the way until she stops before me as I kneel and pack my weapons away, and I can’t help but inhale her sweetness. Fucking blue belladon.
?“Why is your lightning blue?”
?I have to blink and mentally shake myself to make sure I heard her correctly. Turning up to her, I see her face patient and waiting. Open and curious as if it isn’t the most random question.
?“What?” I ask, like a damned idiot. But I’m not too hard on myself because it makes her smile and her left fang peaks through as a dimple forms.
?“Your lightning,” she repeats. “Why is it blue?”
?I clear my throat as I stand. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders and some twisted part of me likes the fact that she has to tilt her head up to look at me. Those cat-eyed shaped rosy eyes more open today.
?“I would imagine the same reason yours is red.”
?She gently shakes her head and points her index finger at my chest. “I got my lightning from the sun devil. His lightning was red.” The reminder has my blood instantly boiling and my aura fumes as I keep a tight leash on it within me. “But yours is blue even though your aura is gold and green. Neither are cool toned either.”
?What?
?I can feel Varian and Thorn’s attentions captured as I stare down at my fated. “You can see my aura?”
?Her lips thin as her eyes pop wide and she hums to herself as if realizing she just said something out loud that she shouldn’t have.
?“I forgot,” she clips. “Darian had the same reaction and I should have remembered you guys can’t see auras.”
?I take a step closer to her, and to my great satisfaction she does not take one back.
?“You can see our auras?” I repeat. Intrigued because not even the gods can see auras unless they become visible like Mavyn’s did when she fought against Percius and then Esmirra.
?Her eyes dip, dragging down my body. It heats something within me but it makes me wonder what she thinks of me and my body. The five of us don’t have necessarily that much of a difference in our physical bodies, however people can be specific. For all I know she doesn’t find me attractive.
?Self-esteem dips and cools the flames as I think about that. If my fated does not find me attractive.
?“Yes,” she finally answers and her eyes sparkle as she looks back up at me. Then her brows lower and she tilts her head while drawing even closer to me. “What’s wrong?”
?“Tsuki! Waterstone! Let’s go!”
?The mage spins on her heel and immediately bounces over to where whoever it was that called them. My little poison flower, however, stays right where she is looking far too concerned at me.
?“I’m fine,” I lie, and fuck me it sounds exactly like a lie. Her brows knit closer together and then warmth heats around my chest.
?I look down at her hand on my bare chest and try to swallow. Two and half centuries and I’ve never had a problem with the way I look or am. Yet here this little nineteen-year-old is making me rethink everything. It would be pathetic if I wasn’t already puddy in her hands.
?“And I thought Callahan was my overthinker.”
?It takes me a moment to make my brain process what she’s said. I don’t understand what the devil has to do with me, and then her words hit.
?“I’m not an overthinker,” I try to rectify. It only makes her smile knowingly. As if she does know me.
?“But you’re mine?”
