Page 79 of Bedeviled

He shakes his head, a hint of a sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want to break your skin.”

I set my drink down and prop myself up on my forearms. “You’ve done so before, when you taught me how to fight.” There had been inevitable scrapes along the way.

Memnon draws in a deep inhale and nods. “I know. But you have been hurt so much, both in this life and your last. The more I bear witness to it, the more softness I want to give you.”

The admission thaws something in me that has no business thawing.

I take his hand and press it to my cheek. Turning my head into it, I kiss his palm.

“Pes vaksa vexupusa.”

I love you.

Memnon’s hand slides to my chin and he tips my head up. “Pes udugab vesamasusa.”

I am yours forever.

Memnon’s gaze flicks to my mouth, and after a moment, he leans in and brushes his lips against mine. It’s over before it even began, and then he’s lifting the bone needle once more. He draws in a steadying breath.

Placing his other hand on the flesh surrounding the tattoo, he lowers the needle.

The moment it breaks the skin, I swallow back a hiss of pain. Goddess, I forgot how it felt to be pierced by these things.

Memnon wiggles the needle slightly to deposit the pigment, then withdraws it.

He arches a brow. “Do you want me to take away your pain?” my soul mate asks. He sounds all too eager to do so.

I shake my head and reach for my wine instead. “I’m fine.” Call me sentimental, but I want this experience to be as it was. So I settle for the old-fashioned pain management and take a long, long swallow of my drink before setting it back down.

Memnon eyes me for a second longer, and I think he’s considering calling me a liar. Instead, he says, “What are your dreams?”

My gaze moves to him. “Hmm?” I say.

“Your dreams,” Memnon repeats as he heats the needle. “What do you wish for in this lifetime?”

“Oh.” I cast my gaze across the large living room, off into the shadowy distance. I think about it, and then I frown. “I don’t…know.”

I want to leave it at that, but Memnon is still staring at me, waiting, and I feel compelled to offer him more of an answer.

“I wanted to get into Henbane for so long that it became my dream,” I say. “I assumed I’d find my calling once I was enrolled, but…” My mind flashes to Memnon rising from his tomb, his scale mail falling off him. It moves to the moment I made the unbreakable oath to marry him, before finally lingering on our wedding day.

Absently, I press a hand to my temple and give my head a shake.

I can feel Memnon watching me carefully. I think he might be in my thoughts, though good luck to him if he can grasp any meaning from the jumble of them.

“But?” he echoes, dipping the bone needle into the bowl of pigment.

“Mmm?” Had I said but?

I jog my mind, but all it’s full of is Memnon, Memnon, Memnon. I’m getting disturbingly obsessive about this man. “I’m happy anyway.”

He gives me a nod, his eyes a little too sharp. I feel my cheeks heat.

I clear my throat. “What about you?” I ask him.

Memnon’s gaze rests heavily on me. “You have always been my dream, est amage. That one has no expiration date.”

I swallow, my stomach fluttering.