Tomorrow she’s getting married.
A deal is a deal. I fucked her. Took her virginity. The exchange of energy took place, and I refuse to think back on that moment.
When I felt the full force of her brushing against my soul . . .
Yeah. It’s definitely time to go.
I slide my arm out from under her, careful not to jar her. It’s better if she remains asleep as I take my leave.
She agreed to the terms. There’s no reason for her to object to us parting ways now.
Either way, I’d rather not have to look into those big eyes as I depart.
I avoid gazing at her one last time and flash across the clearing to the line of trees. The same ones I had to walk around to see her when I first arrived.
A weird sensation brings me to a stop. I place my hand on the trunk next to me and duck my head. Eyes closed, I allow myself one more second of weakness.
Not enough to look back but just another moment of . . . could it be regret that I’m feeling?
That makes no sense. There’s nothing to lament about this. The deal was made, the exchange honored.
What am I now? A love struck fool fantasizing about keeping a mortal?
Shaking my head at myself, I dematerialize, leaving my top hat on the ground near her. It doesn’t even occur to me that it’s missing until I’m back in my domain.
I’ll come to repent my leaving her.
Marie’s going to make fucking sure of it.
Chapter Five
EIGHT HOURS LATER . . .
“By the gods, you look like shit.”
“Why are you still here?” I shout into my hands. I’m sitting on my arm chair, elbows in my knees, face in my hands. As I have been for the last hour.
After somehow pushing through the seven hellish ones that came prior.
She did something to me. She must’ve. She did something to me . . .
“I don’t know how I can tell beyond that skull makeup, but you’re getting paler,” Brigitte says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Not that I expect her to show concern for me. Gods forbid. Not after the way she welcomed my arrival and the animosity that’s brewed since.
But her lack of worry, although expected, is that last thing I want to deal with.
“Did you . . . well, I smelled the sex on you as soon as I got here—dirty bastard—but don’t tell me you made an exchange.”
My hands drop and I bring my head up to look at her. “Of course I did. It’s what she called me for. I’ve done many of them in the past.” And none left me this fucked up.
None.
Brigitte’s face bursts into a wide smile and she throws her head back with a laugh. The silver tear marks that perpetually adorn her face glint in the light. “Oh, this is perfect.”
“What are you talking about?” Although there’s a niggling, cruel suspicion gaining strength in my mind.
Brigitte tries to control her laughter. The best she can do is tame it down to a low chuckle, and I swear I’ve never seen her so fucking happy before. “She wasn’t the only one that gave something up.” Her taunting tone irks my soul.
My slightly empty soul.
This is truly contemptible. I am not a lovesick fool. One instance of amazing—earth shattering—life realigning—completely unbelievable . . .
Gods. Damn. It. One round of sex with a woman could not have reduced me to this.
And . . . the miserable shrew is choking on her laughter again.
I flash the few inches to her and wrap a hand around her throat. “Explain yourself, Brigitte. Now.”
Her entirely gray, dead eyes narrow. With a flick of her hand, she mentally wills my hand off her neck, the power she manifests awe-inspiring.
It’s on Legba’s level.
It’s how I first realized she is more than she says she is.
“Remy, you are awfully capable. I’ll give you that. For an ex-human”—she spits the word with a disdain that can only be used by a being that was never a mortal to begin with—“you have shown tremendous progress in just two decades. But do not ever believe yourself on my level.” She closes the space separating us in an instant, our faces less than an inch apart. “I have brought down gods much higher than you, boy.”
My reply to that?
My hand wraps around her throat once more. “Don’t give a damn. Explain yourself.”
“This is why he picked you. Your insolence . . . your suicidal knack for self-destruction. Mark my words, you will end up just like him when it becomes too much.”
She’s talking about the previous Baron Samedi.
Her most recent ex-husband.
Smiling what I hope is a friendly smile, I release her neck and pat her head, my fingers passing through the silver halo of light that surrounds it. “No. I won’t. Want to know why?”
My hand is slapped away. Glaring at me, she asks, “Why?”
“Because I will not be stupid enough to marry you, Maman. Only a male looking for eternal damnation would do such a thing.”
Instead of being offended by my remark, she smiles happily, gleefully even, and it’s truly a damn shame that she’s so wretched it’s left its mark in the form of those silver tear marks. “Good. I hope that’s true. Wherever he is, I hope he’s still feeling it.”
Now we’re talking about the first husband. The one capable of invoking most of her bitterness. “Stop projecting your male issues onto me and answer my fucking question.”
“You fool!” She shouts. “You know what happened to you while you were with that priestess. It’s part natural—a male besotted and all that—and part supernatural. You let your guard down and she took a piece of you into herself. Literally and figuratively.”
Marie took something from me. I wasn’t just imagining it. “Which piece?” I demand.
“Your nanm.” Brigitte grins, pleased with herself.
My soul.
I let that bosal—that wild, untamed neophyte—take a piece of my gods damned soul while fucking her.
Of all the cliche, pitiful things to allow . . .
I shoot to my feet.
“Hmmm. Heading back to take possession of your little mortal?”
My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. “How do I get that piece of my nanm back?”
She rubs her chin with two fingers, pretending to contemplate her answer. “You . . . don’t. So unless you want to spend the rest of your immortal life sick, I suggest you get to her. Quick. Isn’t she getting married today?”
It would behoove me to find out how Brigitte knows that.
It would also benefit me to ask her some more questions. For example:
Just what exactly does this taking a piece of my nanm mean?
What kind of sickness is supposed to befall me if I don’t take possession of Marie?
Just how the fuck does she know all this?
But Marie is about to get married.
That I just can’t allow.
Can’t believe I considered letting it happen in the first place.
I’m about to renege on our deal.
It’s all her fucking fault.
“Run, little rabit, runnnn,” Brigitte taunts, but I’m already breaking apart my molecules and on my way out of the dimension.
I’ll deal with her once I get back.