Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,6

the world pales to gray. You’re a work of art, papa.”

I looked back into his cloudy turquoise eyes, holding my breath for his reaction, fearful that I’d gone too far.

For an eternity of heartbeats, the silence in the chamber deafened. Even Rain had frozen, her eyes round with doubt and worry.

I take it no one had spoken of his scars in such a flippant manner before, making light of something indescribably dark and awful. Every scar pulsed with the memory of the excruciating agony he endured, obscene and unending. And yet, they were also a physical testament to his unconquerable, awe-inspiring strength.

And then I saw it: a corner of his mouth slowly curved up in that gorgeous, heart-palpitating squirk.

Holy gods, how I love this heroic male with all my twisted, black heart!

Chapter Two: It’s Time That I Told You

*TAL*

When I look at you, I see colors…

How could such simple words have such a powerful impact?

For the first time since I’d…acquired these scars, I didn’t feel shame at the weight of another’s eyes. Even Ishtar, my Mate, my love, hadn’t been able to fill me with such light.

But his words—my binu’s words—they lifted my soul, just as easily as his irreverent humor lifted my mouth in a curve that showed I still knew how to smile. Even though I feared I’d forgotten long ago.

“Your outer scars, what is the level of pain from one to ten?” the Healer asked softly, her hands barely glancing across my skin as she diligently conducted her assessment.

“Five,” I answered, though it was closer to seven on my own internal scale. But I was used to it. I was able to ignore the pulsing pain beneath my skin most of the time.

“That’s two points better than when you joined us a few weeks ago,” Rain mused, a note of cautious optimism in her voice, as well as skepticism. “I hope you’re not underestimating just to shorten this visit, warrior.”

I didn’t respond. I was often guilty of underestimating, “downplaying,” as modern humans would say, but I was mostly telling the truth this time. I didn’t want to lie in front of my son. I wanted to set an example for him. I wanted him to trust enough to share his pain as well.

Yes, I know he’s my son. I’ve known it for a while now, even before Rain performed the human test to match our “DNA.”

When he first came to my Mate’s shop, Dark Dreams, I had known immediately that he was special.

Because I am blind, everyone assumes I can’t see. In turn, they often don’t see me.

I was able to observe him from a distance; he barely took notice of me, his focus on the shining light of my Mate. I certainly understood the attraction.

She is Ishtar Anshar, after all, heaven’s brightest star.

I didn’t know then who he was to me, but I was intrigued. And when he came back in a different form, according to those with seeing eyes, I could tell he was the same person inside. I could feel the same resonance of his soul reaching out to mine.

Occasionally, he watched me, always in disguise. Always from afar. When I went on my walkabouts, when the pain inside was too great to bear, I always felt his presence in the periphery. And somehow, it had been comforting, as if I was sharing my burden with someone who, if not cared, then at least understood.

This time, when Inanna brought him back to the Shield, I knew without a doubt who he was: the son I never knew existed until only recently, since I was reunited with my love after millennia apart.

I could feel his heartbeat within my heart. The throbbing pain of his soul within my soul.

I wanted desperately to heal him.

“And the pain inside your body?” the Healer said in an even lower voice, barely a whisper beside my ear, trying to preserve the secrecy of my private shame.

I swallowed before I licked my lips and answered.

“Eight.”

It was a blatant lie. On a scale of one to ten, the stabbing pain in my internal organs, muscles, tissues, and especially…below…that agony was over a hundred. A burning, scathing, never-ending corrosion within, where Medusa had torn me apart cell by cell.

I breathed deeply through my nose, tamping down the urge to scream and rage in a well-practiced ritual, and clenched my jaw. At least it wasn’t a thousand on that arbitrary scale, which was what it used to be a few weeks ago before Ishtar