Dealing with Demons

The rest of Christmas break passed in a breathless rush. Despite Beatriz’s begging, I spent New Year’s Eve in my enchanted sleep, more aware of the significance of a new year than most other people my age.

I woke New Year’s Day and quickly dressed for work. When we’d delivered the muffins a few days ago, I’d questioned Mona to find out if business slowed because of the holiday. She had assured me that she kept the shop open on New Year’s Day because the high demand for coffee made it extremely profitable. I looked forward to the work.

Morik waited for me at the table. Optimistically, Gran had made two dozen muffins, and always clever, she’d added two dozen mini-quiches to the delivery. The smell of them made my mouth water on the drive over.

We arrived a few minutes early. Morik carried the larger of the two flat boxes and held the door for me. Inside, the only two customers looked up from their cups at the sound of the bell. Mona stood behind the counter, thumbing through a magazine, but glanced up and caught my disappointed expression.

She laughed aloud. “Remember what this looks like. You’ll want a hot bath and a foot rub by one o’clock.”

Morik and I set the boxes on the counter. Mona had already invested in a cute, clear plastic display to show the baked goods. She even had paper doilies to place on the transparent shelves, to make the food look fancier.

“What’s in the extra box?” she asked, lifting the lid.

“Hangover food, according to Gran.”

While I stepped behind the employee door to remove my coat, Morik went to one of the tables. I brought him a cup of coffee, knowing he’d stay until it started to get busy.

Once Mona had set out the majority of the baked goods, she moved the rest to the back room.

The bell rang before she returned. It didn’t stop ringing after that.

The crowds of inarticulate, hung-over people hit us like waves on a shore. Starting small, they grew in intensity. At one point, I brought an extra coffee pot from the back. We didn’t have a warmer for it, but it didn’t matter. We moved a full pot to the counter to sit while the next one brewed. The waiting pot emptied before the next cycle finished.

Gran’s baked goods disappeared in the crush of bodies, as did Morik. Before nine, we’d sold every breakfast item. By ten, Morik returned with three stacked boxes, saying Gran had gone back to bed, and we shouldn’t expect more.

Mona beamed and refilled, laughed and restocked breakfast items, took orders and hit the cash button on the register until one forty.

At one forty-five, after the last customer left, she and I collapsed onto chairs. Crumbs littered the tables and floors. The garbage overflowed with coffee grounds. The sandwich board needed serious attention because after we ran out of Gran’s goods, people had started to order from the lunch menu. Neither of us moved to clean a thing.

“My feet hurt,” I said with a little groan.

Mona laughed. “I’d say you could leave, but I really need your help or I’ll be crawling out of here at midnight.”

Smiling tiredly, I got to my feet as someone tapped on the door. Morik stood outside.

Mona let him in while I got the wash bucket for the tables. When I came back out, he had a broom in his hand. I wanted to hug him.

Mona turned up the radio, and we set to work again. I never realized how much time all the cleanup and prep I did throughout my shift saved us by the end of the day. It took forty minutes to finish.

Putting the last container of sliced tomatoes into the refrigerator, I grabbed my jacket and hobbled to the front. Mona had just finished counting the tips and handed me a wad of bills.

“Eighty bucks,” she said proudly. “I love making hung-over people happy.” She also handed me a fat envelope with Gran’s name.

I liked the money, but not the achy feet. Morik helped me to the car.

When we got home, Gran sat on the couch while Mom and Aunt Grace worked together in the kitchen to put away the last of the dishes. They had Miss Congeniality playing. One of my favorites. After tossing my things in the direction of the coat hook, I collapsed on the couch next to Gran and limply handed her the envelope.

“I couldn’t believe Morik when he came back at eight saying you’d need more baked goods.” Gran picked up the envelope with a grin. “Did you sell everything in the second batch, too?”

I nodded, eyes focused on the screen. Morik sat on the floor in front of me and nudged one of my legs to the side. Grudgingly, I moved. When he picked up the foot and started to rub it, I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Cars and foot rubs?” Aunt Danielle grumbled. “Idiot Belinda.”

My thoughts exactly. But fear tended to make people do strange things.

Returning to school felt good. Though I liked spending the extra time with Morik during break, I craved the normalcy of monotony. Yet, January’s piercing cold, the short days, Mom’s spring wedding plans, and my dwindling time wore on me.

Morik didn’t voice any concern about my lack of choice or the link. He didn’t need to. We all knew what consequence loomed if I didn’t complete one or both. Everyone dealt with the stress of the wait in his or her own way. Mom and Aunt Grace planned a wedding, Gran threw herself into her baking, and Morik remained extremely attentive when with me.

We only parted company while I was at school, then he went back to my house to spend the day with Gran, planning and shopping for dinner. I loved helping them cook whatever unusual meal they came up with.

Morik’s interest in cooking delighted Gran. After exhausting Gran’s cookbooks of appealing options, he bought her a laptop so she could research recipes online. It also provided her a way to track the return of investment for her baked goods that he delivered daily to the Coffee Shop.

Despite all the time Morik and I spent together and the closeness we enjoyed, nothing changed. The stunted twist of black and silver, the representation of our link, ended abruptly in the sway of my back. So, by the end of the month, Mom relented on her rule about not spending the night at Morik’s. I could see the worry in her eyes. Less than four months until I turned seventeen.

The link’s continued lack of growth frustrated me. And, though I tried to recreate the moments I associated with the first appearance of it and its subsequent growth, nothing happened. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Morik really liked when I spontaneously kissed him, but despite the consuming black in his eyes, more often I saw a stronger presence of yellow. I didn’t let him know his eyes gave away his worry.

Needing a distraction for both of us, we hung out with Beatriz on the weekends after work. Her easy acceptance of Morik gave me a sliver of hope that, if things went wrong, maybe he could endure with her friendship.

We always left just before dark. He would drive to the road, pull over, and pop us into his garage. I loved staying at Morik’s. It meant no chant and waking up early enough to make my own breakfast. I was heartily sick of toast.

Thus, when I opened my eyes on the last Monday in January, my first thought was pancakes. My second was how nice and toasty warm sleeping next to Morik made me feel. I didn’t get up. Instead, I turned and found him resting with his eyes closed.

His black lashes twitched against his skin. Did he dream? I hoped he dreamt something happy, carefree.

I smirked as I recalled Beatriz’s demand to know if I’d “nibbled on his incredibly yummy bottom lip” yet. At school, she constantly hounded me about the details of our relationship. If my seventeenth birthday saw me to the grave, I wished Beatriz’s stubborn persistence good luck in winning over Morik.

As I studied him, I decided his bottom lip did need a nibble. Was I bold enough? What did I have to lose? My time was limited. Yet, I didn’t move. Why did I hesitate to do the things I wanted to do? Because I still worried about Mom’s and Morik’s reactions. I didn’t want to disappoint my mom or push Morik into an aspect of our relationship that he hadn’t considered.

“You’re very serious this morning,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Thought you were sleeping.” I burrowed in closer to his warmth. Most mornings, I woke on my side with my head pillowed on his shoulder—the perfect spot.

“I was until you woke.” He opened his swirling silver eyes and kissed the top of my head. The kiss that usually signaled our time in bed was over.

It suited me fine. I had a lot to think about and didn’t want him studying my face while I did.

“Are you serious?” Beatriz squealed when I admitted I’d spent the night at Morik’s.

She leaned against my neighbor’s locker, grinning at me stupidly. I rolled my eyes at her and started to pull out the books I needed.

“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Mom just gave me a break from wedding plans. By the way, she wants to go dress shopping this weekend,” I said to distract her. “Mom wanted to know if you could come with. More opinions.”

“Of course I’ll go!”

With my arms full, I bumped my locker closed with a hip and walked with Beatriz to our first class.

Thanks to Beatriz’s friendship and the reduced use of my gift, many of our fellow classmates nodded or said hello as we passed. The sea of faces blended as I smiled and nodded in return. A very focused set of eyes caused me to do a double-take. The girl winked at me, and as I watched, she slumped slightly.

Morik? I sure hoped so even though I’d need to scold him for using people again.

A surprise quiz in first hour distracted me so thoroughly that I had no idea what Beatriz was talking about when she whispered to me.

“Are you going to look for a winter formal, too?” She passed her paper forward, and I did the same before giving her a blank stare.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going. It’s the weekend before Valentine’s—”

She abruptly stopped talking as Mr. Wammner, our first hour teacher, swung his disapproving gaze in her direction. She smiled innocently in return, and I hid my amusement. The bell rang, and we both scooted from the room before he decided to talk to Beatriz.

“The Valentine’s dance,” she said, picking up the conversation. “They really do it up here. The student council has the gym cleaned before they start decorating so it doesn’t smell like feet. They even bring in a punch fountain and snack table. Come on. We’re running out of dances before school’s out.”

She brought up a good point. As a junior, I hadn’t gone to a single dance in my life. Maybe that’s why Mom gushed over her wedding plans. She often recalled her only senior dance, after she chose dad, as a magical night. If I was actually considering a human boy, I could count on next year’s dances. But, I wasn’t.

“I don’t know…”

She took a deep breath, and I knew she was winding up for a long-winded list of persuasive reasons I should go. However, the girl who’d winked at me before class approached, interrupting.

“Beatriz, one of the office women asked that I fetch you for her.”

I’d forgotten how creepy the double-voices sounded.

Beatriz groaned and rushed away. Once she moved out of range, I turned to Morik with a disapproving frown.

“You know how I feel about using other people.”

“I apologize. I missed you.”

Yes, I melted a little.

“Would you like to go to the dance?” he asked me, the girl’s smooth voice melding with his own deep one.

Damn if the kid from the cafeteria didn’t walk by just then. The lesbian rumor would flare again for sure.

“It’s after dark,” I said to Morik. “I don’t think it’ll be safe.”

“Consider a deal for your safety.”

I remembered my thoughts about going for what I wanted. We hadn’t heard from Ahgred much in the last few weeks though Morik had said Ahgred waited nearby at night, listening and watching, when he could, through the un-shuttered windows of Morik’s home.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“A touch for a night with me.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair trade. You can already touch me.”

He didn’t smile or look away. The grave expression on the girl’s face didn’t make sense to me, but if he really wanted another deal for a touch, I didn’t mind.

“Fine. A single touch in return for a single night, the night of the dance, with you, Morik,” I said his name just so I wouldn’t be stuck dancing with the girl he currently inhabited.

He laughed eerily and moved quickly to cup my cheek. A burn ignited at the base of my spine and scorched upward. A scream tore from my mouth, raspy, desperate, and full of pain. It stopped all movement around me.

The girl smiled triumphantly as her eyes flashed glowing green. She dropped her hand, and the sensation of being branded stopped. I panted to catch my breath. The pain lingered unlike each time before.

What had I done? How could I have mistaken Ahgred for Morik?

The girl’s stance deflated, and she burst into tears. Ignoring my own pain, I focused on her, aware of everyone’s attention. I couldn’t have another Clavin or Brian on my hands.

“Oh my God, what was that?” she sobbed.

“It’ll be okay.”

I grabbed her by the arm and steered her through a gawking crowd to the nearest girl’s bathroom. The bell rang as I pushed through the door. I eyed the empty stalls while she cried. Someone was bound to tell a teacher. I didn’t have much time.

“Morik!” I called softly. He appeared in front of me, and the girl began crying harder. “I don’t have much time,” I said in a rush. “I accidentally made a deal with Ahgred—I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I need to make a deal to wipe her memory of it.” I nodded to the sobbing girl, who, when hearing my plan, made a beeline for the door.

Morik disappeared, and the girl abruptly stopped moving.

“What deal?” they asked in a single discordant voice.

“Ahgred cannot use any more humans during the day to interact with me or watch me. And I want any memory of him wiped from her.”

“The price will be steep.”

“How steep?”

“It must have value to you,” they said.

I already knew that, but having him say it again made me nervous. “What is it, Morik? What’s the price?”

“Your family’s chant. You must abide by it regardless of where you sleep until you turn seventeen.”

My freedom. The key to spending more time with him. Would I have enough time to choose him without it?

“Not until seventeen. A week before my birthday, I want freedom from this deal in case I need to spend more time with you.” Whether out of desperation to make the connection or to say good-bye, I wanted those days.

“A deal. Their protection for yours until a week before you turn seventeen. Your grandmother will come and pick you up shortly.”

Then he left.

The girl blinked at me in confusion, and the color drained from her face. She clapped a hand over her mouth and rushed for a toilet. I stayed with her as she emptied her stomach of her breakfast. As expected, a teacher came in to question our lingering presence in the bathroom. My new friend took that moment to heave into the toilet again. Enough said.

“Let’s get you to the office,” the teacher said. She helped the girl up and led her out. I followed and grabbed my things from my locker on the way.

A stubborn Beatriz stood in the office, waiting for a hall pass. I’d forgotten Ahgred sent her away. When she saw me with the girl who’d misled her, her eyes narrowed.

“Ashley! What the heck? Why did you send me down here?”

Poor Ashley, her skin still horribly tinted green, moaned and shut her eyes as if that would remove Beatriz’s irritation. Bea did a head-to-toe sweep of Ashley then looked at me. I had no doubt I looked pale.

“She got sick and didn’t want witnesses,” I said, hoping Ashley would go with it. I wondered what she did and didn’t remember. Her reaction to Morik’s tampering made me believe the experience had been less than tolerable.

Gran strode into the office a few minutes later, looking pale and shaken. No one questioned her when she told me to hurry up and held the door for me. Bea waved good-bye while the rest of the office faculty rushed to get Ashley a wastebasket.

Outside, Morik waited for us next to Mom’s car. She and Aunt Grace took the new car now, leaving Gran a means of transportation.

He politely opened the door for Gran and quietly apologized to her. She patted his cheek, a little firmly in my opinion, and said she forgave him.

“For what?” I asked when he opened my door.

“My driving.”

Gran waited until he pulled away from the school before asking for an explanation.

“Can we talk about it when we get home? I don’t want to distract Morik,” I said. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel conflicted with his sedate driving.

“I made a deal with Ahgred, thinking it was Morik,” I said once Morik closed the front door behind us.

I carefully peeled off my jacket. The motion pulled at the sore spot at the base of my spine. Morik’s gaze narrowed at my hesitant, jerky movements.

“And I think he marked me.” I didn’t know what we’d see when we looked; however, based on the area of pain, I feared Ahgred had removed the link Morik and I had forged.

Turning away, I presented my back to Morik and lowered my pants just enough to expose the scorched area. Gran sucked air through her teeth.

“How bad is it? Did I undo it all?” I felt like crying.

Morik’s warm hand traced two twisting lines up the sway of my back. “Our link is still here, Tessa. Don’t worry. But he did add his own.” Bracing my hands on my legs, I flinched when he touched the tender spot, tracing it only half as far as the other lines.

“It looks raw,” Gran said. “Let me get some first aid cream.”

“I’ll change first.” I kept my pants pulled away from my back. Now that I’d moved the material, anything touching that spot hurt.

In my room, I dug out my pajama pants and folded them down low on my hips. On top, I put on a sports bra, not wanting anything to stick to my lower back. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and shuffled back out to the living room, feeling miserable.

For a while, it had felt like we all had a chance to find our happy endings. Now, I felt like I held the loose threads of an unraveling blanket. How could I have let Ahgred mark me? More importantly, would Ahgred’s mark make it harder to finish my link with Morik?

“Tessa, what did you gain from the deal?” he asked as soon as I returned.

Thinking of what I’d gotten in exchange just made the deal worse. My eyes watered.

“I’m not sure what I really got, but what I asked for was to go to the dance with you.”

“Can you recall how you worded it? Exactly?”

His suspicion made my stomach churn.

“A single touch in return for a single night, the night of the dance, with you. I said your name, Morik.”

He nodded and watched me lay on my stomach on the couch. Gran bustled over with the cream and dabbed it on. Immediate cooling relief followed her touch.

“Gran, with your permission, I’d like to take Tessa to my home.”

I didn’t turn my head to look at them. Instead, I faced the back of the couch. The material under me shifted from couch cushions to a white comforter, and I sniffled.

“I’m sorry I screwed up, Morik.”

“I don’t see how you screwed up. You made a deal to spend more time with me. I would never consider that a screwup.”

“But the mark…” I turned my head to look at him. He lay on the bed next to me.

“It doesn’t mean anything other than he hasn’t given up.” He smoothed a hand over my hair. “So you really want to go to this dance?”

“Not bad enough for Ahgred’s mark.”

“There had to be something that you wanted that enabled the deal. If not the dance, then something associated with it.”

How could I tell him I wanted to experience things just in case I died? He would think I’d already given up. We still had a little more than three months. Instead of saying anything, I ignored the pain, lifted myself up on my elbows, and scooted closer to him.

I still didn’t know where or how far he saw our relationship going or what he expected from me. But I knew I couldn’t keep hesitating.

Half-lying on his chest, I leaned in to take a chance. My lips met his softly. Warm. Everything about him warmed me. I brushed my lips over his, feeling the slight rise of his lower lip. No holding back. Heart hammering, palms sweating, I used my lips to catch his lower lip.

As soon as my lips parted, he growled, a low rumble that emanated from his chest and grew in volume.

Clueless beyond our typical kiss, a gentle press of lips, I didn’t know if Beatriz’s suggestion had been literal, but I went for it anyway and caught his lip between my teeth. The growl turned to a groan. I released him and pulled back.

For the first time in weeks, the void of his eyes assured me. I bent my head and gave his lip the barest lick, a tiny touch of my tongue.

Like touching him first, and kissing him first, I seemed to unlock another aspect of our contact. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, cupped the back of my head, and lifted his mouth to mine.

At the first touch of his tongue, I forgot to breathe, and my heart skipped a beat. He consumed me with his passion, and his tongue left no space unexplored. I shivered with anticipation and lifted my hands to his hair.

This moment, this kiss, defined the purpose behind my deal with Ahgred. I didn’t want to die before I could experience what could have been.

I accidentally brushed Morik’s ears. This time, he didn’t disappear or pull away. His fingers twitched at the base of my skull then slowly slid down my back. Little shocks crackled along my skin in their wake. Nothing else existed but his urgent mouth and nimble fingers.

He stopped just short of the new mark. I gave up my hold on his hair, tugged his shirt up, and found smooth skin. I glided my palm over the flat planes of his stomach to his ribs.

Seconds, minutes, years…I wanted time to hold still for our kiss. Instead, I tore away from him, desperate for air.

He gave me an inch of space, just enough to turn my head while he trailed kisses down my throat. My skin tingled. More electric charges. His lips met my collarbone, and he growled again. I touched his ear lightly, not wanting him to stop.

Suddenly, I lay on my back, and the weight of him pressed me into the mattress as he continued to kiss my neck.

“Wait,” I gasped, and a whiny edge crept into my voice. I hated that it sounded so pathetic, but flames licked the base of my spine. All of the tingling charges he’d planted within me dissolved with my pain. I struggled to push him off me, desperate.

My pain and panic lasted less than a second before the bedroom disappeared and we stood in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator. I blinked at that change of perspective. He pushed the button for ice, caught a handful, and pressed the ice to my raw skin. I immediately felt relief.

“Forgive me,” he rumbled. “I forgot for a moment.”

“Me too.” My hands, still in the same places, convulsed with the lingering application of ice. I lifted my head from his chest and met his gaze while the soothing water trailed down my back.

Yellow streaked his eyes, no black, and I smiled at him sadly.

Ahgred’s mark healed enough Monday night that I sported a delicate scab on Tuesday. The vivid red of his mark showed through the scab, and I knew I’d wear Ahgred’s color even after the scab fell off.

Ditching jeans, I wore leggings folded down low on my hips and a long sweater. The knitting on the sweater caught on the scab occasionally, but it was better than having anything pressed against the area. The worst pain occurred when I sat or stood because the skin stretched or expanded and affected the scab unpredictably. Thus, Tuesday passed with measured moments of soreness.

Moving from class to class, I struggled to keep the discomfort from showing in my expression. I knew I failed when Beatriz repeatedly glanced my way.

Wednesday should have been better, but instead, the branded patch of skin hurt more.

Before third hour, Beatriz yanked me into a bathroom. Just as the next class bell rang, she demanded to know the cause of my facial gymnastics.

“Remember that tattoo?” She nodded her eyes wide. “Don’t ever get one,” I moaned and lifted my shirt so she could see.

“Ew! That doesn’t look good.” She immediately started to rummage in the bag that hung from her shoulder and pulled out tweezers, peroxide, bandages, antiseptic spray, tubes of cream, and more. Everything she found, she set on the stainless steel shelf mounted just below the length of the bathroom’s mirror.

Her supplies amazed me.

“Why do you have all of that?”

“Because my friend gimped around most of the day yesterday then left school looking a little flushed. Something had to be infected, and I knew you’d tell me eventually. Turn around.”

She picked up the spray and the tweezers.

I so did not want to turn around. The white, aerosol cylinder with tiny black lettering screamed hospital-grade, germ-killing fire in a can.

“I’ll ask my mom to take me to the doctor,” I said quickly, not taking my eyes from the spray.

Bea put her hands on her hips. “Turn around.”

Giving her my best puppy eyes, I tried again.

“I’ll trade you one more day of let’s-wait-and-see-if-it-gets-better for a movie date with Morik.”

It’d be dark. He’d be fine.

“Now, I know it’s bad. It’s me or the school nurse. You’re not yet seventeen. Heads are going to roll for an underage tattoo. And it’s not ratting if I’m doing it to save your life,” she clarified. Resolve lit her eyes.

Defeated, I turned and angled myself so I could watch her in the mirror while I braced my hands on the white porcelain rim of the sink.

She flipped the edge of my shirt back and hissed in a breath. “Some of the scabs are almost off because of the clothes and cracking. I’m going to use the tweezers to—”

“Bea, just do it quick. I don’t want a play-by-play.”

She shook her head then ducked closer to her work.

I relaxed my shoulders in preparation for her first assault but it didn’t help. I yelped my way through the scab removal. My knees buckled when she sprayed the now open and raw wound. She didn’t stop.

Dousing my back in peroxide, she caught the run off with a paper towel and killed every germ. Of course, the peroxide didn’t stop at germs. It continued eating its way to my spine, and I clung to the sink to stay upright.

With watering eyes, I looked up as she moved to grab one of the tubes. In a stall off to the side, I caught the blazing red and yellow swirl of Morik’s gaze. How had he known? Of course. My pain called him to me.

Beatriz dabbed on some cream then taped thin gauze over the area.

“The gauze will prevent snagging and other stuff from growing into the scab as it heals but will still allow the area to breathe. We should change it again before the end of the day.”

I nodded and feebly wiped away the sweat that beaded on my upper lip. How was I supposed to get through the rest of the day? I wanted to go home, curl into a little ball, and curse whoever taught Beatriz first aid.

“Come on,” she said, tossing her supplies back into her bag. “We need to go get a pass.”

Motivating my shaky limbs, I followed her out of the bathroom, not looking back at Morik. He’d looked barely contained. Less acknowledgment probably suited the situation.

After the sting of the peroxide and other chemicals she’d liberally applied wore off, the mark began to feel…okay. Still hot and uncomfortable, but not as bad. When she suggested we change the bandage again after the last bell rang, I didn’t protest. The process went quickly with little discomfort and no reappearance of Morik.

We stepped out into the afternoon light together. Most of the buses began their slow crawl toward the main exit.

Amidst the slush-filled parking lot, I spotted Morik leaning against his motorcycle. The day, just a hair above freezing, didn’t inspire excitement for a motorcycle ride. Or maybe my sore back didn’t inspire it.

Beatriz, ever helpful, asked, “Can Morik give me a ride home since I missed the bus?”

Across the distance, I caught his slight nod.

“I’m sure he can. I’d rather walk, anyway.”

“I figured.” She grinned and took off her jacket so we could trade. When she had the leather one on, she skipped down the steps toward him.

He lifted my helmet and offered it to her when she approached. Beatriz played her chance for what it was worth and lifted her chin in a bid for him to put the helmet on for her.

I shook my head, amused by her, and started home. The winter air ran its frosty fingers over my exposed skin. At first, I welcomed the touch. However, by the time I spotted my house, my cheeks were flushed with cold, and I no longer enjoyed being outdoors.

Morik’s motorcycle sat in the driveway, and I knew he’d cheated to beat me home. He opened the door as I stepped onto the front walk. Yellow swirled in his eyes as he followed my progress. I managed a smile, but it probably lacked luster.

“Did Beatriz get home okay?”

He nodded and stood aside to let me pass. While he helped me from my jacket, he leaned close and spoke softly in my ear.

“I never want to feel your pain again.” His voice shook with emotion.

I never wanted to feel my pain again, either. As soon as I freed my arms from the sleeves, I turned and wrapped them around his waist. He gingerly embraced me in return.

“I’m okay,” I said, enjoying the feel of his hard chest under my cheek.

Gran cleared her throat nearby, and I reluctantly lifted my head.

“Not much time to do homework,” she said with an amused expression.

On the off chance I actually lived beyond seventeen, I really did need to keep my grades up. Sighing, I loosened my hold on Morik and drifted over to the table. Morik helped Gran finish dinner preparations while I worked through calculus.

Each time I looked up, I found his focus on me instead of the food he prepared. I enjoyed his attention. With him, I didn’t feel desperate or trapped like I did with many of the boys my age. Probably because I knew any serious time with me could kill them. Morik represented hope for a future that didn’t involve my husband’s imminent death. Thinking of him in terms of a husband gave me a moment’s pause.

My focus drifted away from my textbook, and the words on the page danced chaotically. Each generation of Belinda’s line produced at least one child. If I successfully chose Morik, it completed the deal. It should then mean additional descendants to my line were no longer needed. But were they wanted? I recalled his reaction when I’d asked what more he wanted before Christmas, and my mind drifted once again into confusing relationship territory.

Morik met my curious gaze when I looked up. Ask or don’t ask? I considered the very real possibility of a short life and decided to go for it.

“Will we…do you…” I had his complete attention.

He tilted his head at me as I tried to figure out how to word my question.

“I mean, are we going to have kids?”

Gran turned slowly, her mouth slightly opened in surprise. Her gaze played ping-pong between the two of us.

Morik’s eyes darkened. He didn’t move or speak, and I felt decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe I’d found a line after all, and not just crossed it but danced on it. Unsure how to take the question back, I sat there and turned a lovely shade of crimson.

Finally, he reached up and ran his fingertips along one of his horns. “Given our differences, I think it unwise to attempt such a thing.”

Gran’s color matched my own, and I decided to keep any further questions to myself.

He blinked himself beside me and leaned close to my ear. “Having you is enough for me.” He kissed the tender skin just below my ear.

My heart beat erratically from his touch and his words, and the tingle that spread up my spine surprised me. Not an extension to the mark, just a good feeling.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him and darted forward to catch his lips for a quick kiss.

We both heard the car in the driveway and broke apart.