Page 10 of His Eternal Claim

“I’m telling you you’re a brat,” I mutter, though my heart is thudding against my ribs. “You could ask for a house on the goddamn moon and I’d probably find a way to get the oxygen up there just to stop your pouting.”

“The moon is too quiet,” she giggles, stepping closer, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Besides, there’s no gelato on the moon. And no Signor Rossi to bully.”

“God forbid,” I scoff. “The universe would be far too peaceful without you extorting grocers.”

She makes a mock-offended gasp, lunging forward to swat at my chest, but I’m faster. I’ve been trained to catch bullets; catching a sunbeam is easy. I grab her by the waist, my large hands nearly meeting around her middle, and lift her off her feet. She squeals, a sound of pure joy that I want to bottle up and drink.

I set her down on the high stone railing of the cliff-walk. Her legs dangle over the edge, her sundress fluttering, and for a second, the height makes my blood go cold. I step between her knees, anchoring her there with the weight of my body, my hands gripping the stone on either side of her hips.

“Zagreus!” she breathes, her face flushed, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders.

The bickering dies. The wind howls around us, but between us, there is a suffocating heat. I lean in, burying my face in the crook of her neck. The scent of jasmine is so strong here, mixed with the salt of the sea. I let my lips graze the sensitive skin just below her ear, her pulse jumping like a frantic animal.

“You want a house on this cliff?” I whisper against her skin, my voice dropping into a low, predatory growl that would make any other person tremble. But Selene just arches her neck, giving me more room. “I’ll give you the cliff. I’ll give you the sea. I’ll give you every fucking star you can see from that balcony. But you have to realize something, Dolcezza.”

I pull back just enough to look into her wide, dark eyes.

“If I build it, you’re never leaving it. I’ll be the walls, and I’ll be the roof, and I’ll be the floor beneath your feet. You’ll be mine until the sea swallows the rock.”

A deep, rosy blush creeps up from her chest to her cheeks, her eyes softening into something so tender it makes me want to drop to my knees.

“Promise me,” she whispers, her voice a fragile thread. “Forever, Zagreus.”

“Forever,” I vow, and I seal the lie and the truth with a kiss that tastes like the end of the world.

I don’t tell her that my Father is already looking for a bride for me. I don’t tell her that I’ve already cleaned my gun for the night. I’ll have to use it on him. I just hold her, my soft girl, and wonder if she knows that by staying with a monster, she’s destined to be devoured.

I don’t care. I’ll be the monster she needs. I’ll stand in front of everyone else, just as she promised to do for me.

Chapter 5

Devotion

THE REQUIEM | Present

Open, Stina. Just a little more, my darling.”

The scent of cinnamon from downstairs is gone, replaced by the tang of some medicine in the spoon my Mother is holding to my lips.

“I don’t like it,” I whisper, my throat tight. “It makes the room go wobbly. It makes me feel like I’m underwater.”

“It makes the pain go away,” she counters. Her voice is honey sweet. She doesn’t move the spoon. She waits, her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that feels like she’s trying to crawl inside my skull. “Do you want to hurt, Stina? Do you want to be weak like the others?”

I shake my head and swallow. The bitterness coats my tongue, a familiar, wretched trail of fire down my throat. Within seconds, the sharp edges of the furniture melt.

From the hallway, a door slams. The sound vibrates through the floor, and I flinch so hard I nearly knock the spoon from her hand.

“He’s home,” I breathe, my heart kicking into its frantic dance.

Heavy footsteps thud against the carpet. My Father’s voice carries through the walls. He’s shouting about a missing ledger, about incompetence, about the way the house smells. Then comes the sound of glass shattering.

“He’s a monster,” my Mother whispers, her gaze shifting to the door. She doesn’t look scared. She looks disgusted. She turns back to me, her fingers digging into my shoulders until it almost hurts. “Listen to him, Stina. Listen to the beast. If he died today… if he was erased from this earth… would you feel bad? Would you shed a single tear for the man who makes you tremble in your own home?”

The question is too big for a ten-year-old. I look at the door, then back at her. “He’s my Papa.”

“He is a cage,” she snaps, her face leaning so close I can see the gold flecks in her eyes dancing with a dark fire. “He is the shadow that keeps the sun from reaching us. Tell me, Stina. Who do you love more? The man who breaks things, or the Mother who heals you?”

“You,” I whisper, the word forced out by the sheer weight of her expectation. “I love you, Mama.”