Page 101 of Immortal

Afterward, in bed, his fingers traced the length of my body, stirring my hunger with ease. I should have been sated but was far from it; it didn’t seem possible to have enough of him. Zhangwei rose, lighting a brace of candles. They flickered to life, casting a warm glow around the chamber.

As I pulled on a thin robe, he returned to my side and cradled my cheek in his palm. “I want to see your face. I want to see all of you.”

I swallowed, my mouth going dry with desire as his fingers trailed lower. I caught his hand and held it tight.

“You’ve regained your strength, most of it,” he remarked. “When you were mortal, I was always afraid of hurting you.”

Some men thought of women as delicate flowers to be shielded and tended when it suited them, and pruned when they grew too wild. “How do you feel about it now?” I asked.

His slow smile sent a shaft of pleasure through me. “I like touching you the way I want to, without fear or restraint.”

“I like it too,” I admitted, lifting my face to his.

His lips brushed mine, softly at first, then more urgently. How I wanted him. As the familiar heat built, I pulled away with regret. There were still answers I needed, and we weren’t out of danger yet.

“I have many questions,” I began.

“I have one,” he countered. “Do you remember me now, do you remember us—all that we are to each other?”

“That is more than one question,” I said with a laugh.

“They mean the same thing.” His expression was grave, intent. After all, he’d been waiting for this answer for a long time.

“I remember you, Zhangwei. I remember us.” I took his hand in mine. “I will never forget again.”

“What about your fiancé in Tianxia?” he wanted to know.

Was he still jealous? He had never been in the past, always so annoyingly assured. Maybe our separation had made him anxious, when he couldn’t find me in the Mortal Realm. An urge rose to tease him as my eyes slid to our discarded clothes. “Do you feel remorse now?”

“No,” he said bluntly, holding my gaze. “Because you were mine first. Because I’d claimed you as you’d claimed me—for eternity—and I will hold you to that.”

I wanted this too, yet something knotted in my chest. “What if I don’t have eternity?” I didn’t know what awaited me; no one did.

“Then, for as long as we live. Or until the day you want to be released, knowing all we are to each other.” His tone hardened. “Now, tell me, are you going to marry another?”

The knot loosened, my fears dissipating. “No. I love Chengyin—but as a friend. A brother.”

“Yet you are engaged?”

“It was a ploy to divert the ministers who were trying to marry me off.”

He smiled even as his jaw tightened. “Tell me who proposed a groom, and I’ll silence them on your behalf.”

For a moment, I contemplated the pleasure of unleashing the God of War upon Minister Guo and his allies. Shallow, yet undoubtedly satisfying. But if I didn’t establish my own authority, it would forever be bound to his.

“I can silence them myself,” I told him.

He nodded. “You never had any trouble standing your own ground, not since the day we met.”

I sifted through the recollections that crowded my mind, filling the void like the strokes of a painting. Zhangwei and I had met when we were students, long before he’d become the God of War. Back then, he was a rival in my studies, the only one who’d matched my ability. Whenever he’d bested me, he’d flick his eyes my way as though making sure I was watching, asserting his victory. I’d loathed him then . . . maybe I would have gone my whole life believing I disliked him, when the truth was I’d thrived on his challenge and he’d fascinated me. For years, I’d ignored my feelings, burying them away—it was easier that way. What a fool I’d been.

I hid these thoughts; he was arrogant enough. “Back then, you were the teacher’s favorite,” I said.

He grinned. “It was the only way to get your attention. I studied hard because I noticed how annoyed you were whenever someone beat you.”

I’d been competitive in my youth—I still was. But I’d wanted to earn each victory, disliking those who tried to gain favor by letting me win. Zhangwei never did, throwing himself entirely into each challenge. Once, we’d sparred so intensely, he’d cut my arm with his sword, though bloodshed was frowned upon by our instructor. I’d left in anger then, returning to my room where I had healed myself clumsily—cursing him loud enough to be heard down the hall, and from the other side of the door that he’d knocked on.

I remembered opening it, staring at him stonily. “What are you doing here?”