Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,16

Sometimes I catch myself running knowingly into a blade rather than deflect it, just to seek that drug-like pain. I try to control myself, but on the other hand, when I hesitate, I am wounded regardless from the indecision.

Goddess above! I am a mess.

I will overcome this. I will. For Ishtar. For Inanna.

For my son.

As I stand beneath the shower, I sense a shift in the air of another’s presence, then Ishtar’s unique scent, and finally, I hear her almost silent approach.

She stands just outside the edge of the open shower. In one stride, I can easily pull her into my arms.

I don’t.

“I had dinner with Benji and…Erebu just now,” she muses softly. “That’s the name he’s chosen for himself. Erebu. The most beautiful time of the day for a Dark One—the sunset that harkens the thrill of night.”

“I am glad,” I respond.

A long silence stretches between us.

I do not know whether she is lost in thought about the dinner or looking at my nakedness or something else. In moments like these, my other senses cannot help me discern what my Mate is thinking or feeling. And though we have a telepathic bond, unless we are both open to the communication and initiate the bridge, our thoughts remain our own.

“May I help you wash?” she asks finally.

Ah. So she was looking at my nakedness.

My heart clenches at the fact that she has to ask, and in such a tentative tone. Her nature has always been aggressive, bold, dominating, and forthright. She goes after and takes what she wants. It is in her animal spirit as well as her Dark One “genes.” I love this about her.

With any other male, with the long-ago version of me she used to know, she would never have to ask. And I would grin at her and open my arms, just as hungry for my Mate’s affections as she is for mine.

But I am not that male.

Warring within myself, wanting to fulfill her needs while dreading the pain of her touch, the agony of pleasure, I lock my jaw and incline my head in a slight nod.

I do my damnest to keep my expression neutral, even welcoming, when I hear the rustle of her clothes falling to the floor, but a muscle in my jaw ticks wildly, betraying my struggle.

I just hope she doesn’t see it.

“Are you sure it’s all right, my love?” she asks, not coming closer.

So, she noticed. Of course she did.

“Yes, ana Ishtar. Join me,” I invite and force a small smile. “Tell me about your dinner. What did you and the boys talk about?”

Distracted by the subject at hand, she approaches me without hesitation this time, and I hear her moving around to lather a sponge with soap. I note that she’s careful to avoid touching me, despite the close quarters and despite being two Mates naked in the shower together.

“Well, the fact that he did not scream and throw things and run madly out of the apartment when I revealed myself was a promising start,” she said.

I can hear the smile in her voice, and a real smile forms vicariously on my lips as well. I love hearing Ishtar’s smiles.

She begins to lather my chest and shoulders with the sponge, keeping up a stream of easy conversation.

“We sat down at dinner like civilized people, and ate almost everything Benji brought in his red wagon. I ate more than anyone else, of course. A growing boy is no match for the appetite of the Great White Beast.”

I hum low in my throat in agreement. This time, I can feel her grin as her cheek grazes my shoulder when she scrubs down my arm to my hand.

“Are you suggesting I overeat, Ninigiku of my heart?”

Lord Bright Eyes. I will never tire of hearing her call me that nickname, even though my eyes are no longer “bright.”

“Never,” I demur.

“Hmph,” she huffs, pretending affront.

She is working on my back now. I know that she will go to my feet next and work up my legs. And then…

Despite the ease of our conversation, my muscles involuntarily tense.

“Erebu seems to have an ‘eating disorder,’ Rain called it,” she continues, either not feeling my body’s instinctive bracing or choosing to ignore it, “and only partook of a small slice of ham and some fruit. He is getting better, though, I’ve noticed. He eats more than before, not nearly enough, but certainly better than insubstantial soup and water. And of course, I ate the most because I didn’t