Oh. I looked out the window. The mark had significance to me, to my family, to Morik, but to anyone else looking at it, they would see … what? An underage teen with an excessive tattoo. A troublemaker. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Poor mom.
Stephen’s suggestion of a different dress made sense. But I’d spent the majority of the tip money on that dress. When I’d asked to express ship it, the sales associate made it clear the order couldn’t be canceled. Now what?
I would need to talk to Mom after work.
Unfortunately, when I returned to the house, Mom and Stephen had just left to go out for a late lunch. Aunt Danielle supplied us with the information with Aunt Grace and Gran also missing. Gran visited with her widower down the road and Aunt Danielle surmised that Grace left for a joyride since Morik had picked me up on his motorcycle.
Finally allotted free time with Morik, I asked Aunt Danielle if she minded if we went to Morik’s house. She encouraged me to write a note just in case Stephen returned with my mom first, but she approved of the idea.
On the short ride to Morik’s house, I continued to ponder my mark, the discussion I need to have with Mom and the talk I should have with Morik. The Morik talk didn’t concern me as much as the talk with my mother. Or how to deal with the outside world’s knowledge of my mark.
We pulled into the garage and Morik helped me from the bike. Unstrapping the helmet, he noted, “You’re very pensive. Will you share your thoughts?”
He blinked us into the living room. Very rarely did I actually see him use a door.
“I was just thinking about the dress I bought.” I watched swirls of black invade his gaze.
“I do like that one,” he said softly.
“Me too. I thought I could wear it to the dance and to Mom’s wedding, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Tessa,” he said sounding concerned. “I thought you understood the rules of the deal.”
Confused, I shook my head and frowned at him. “What deal?”
“I removed Ashley’s memories. The price is the chant until a week before you turn seventeen.”
My expression fell and my eyes watered.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, setting my helmet to the side and helping from my jacket. “I didn’t realize you still thought you would attend the dance. I never meant to trick you into agreeing to something that you didn’t understand.”
I didn’t really care about the stupid dance. Well, maybe a little. What really bothered me was the fact I wore Ahgred’s mark and now had nothing to show for it. All that pain for nothing. No extra time with Morik.
Yellow flooded his eyes. He watched me with a helpless expression as a single tear slipped over the edge.
Seeing his concern, I swiped the moisture away and reached for his face. He bent giving me access. My lips found his and I teased his lower lip. His hesitant hands roosted on my sides. I smiled at his uncertainty. My mercurial mood probably had his head spinning.
If I couldn’t count on extra time next Saturday, then I wanted every minute today to matter. We needed to have a talk about our feelings and I thought a kiss a good way to start.
Deepening the kiss, I inched closer letting my hands slip from his face to his chest. I pushed his already unzipped jacket off his shoulders. He broke the kiss pulling back to look at me head canted in question. Lingering threads of yellow danced in the darkness of his gaze. I loved his expressive eyes.
Not ready to answer his questions, I tugged him back to me. Again, he gave in willingly.
Our lips met on a warm exhale. He took possession of my mouth, his tongue teasing my own. A tingle spread to my limbs. My hands found the hem of his shirt and ducked under sliding upward gliding along his smooth warm skin. He shivered. Encouraged, I explored all the way up to his collarbones.
Panting for breath, I pulled away. He released my lips, but didn’t loosen his hold. Trailing kisses along my jaw, he found the sensitive skin just below my ear. Withdrawing my hands from his chest, I grabbed one of his hands prying it from my shirt. He growled faintly and I smiled.
Heart pounding, I daringly guided his hand under my shirt so his hand rested on the bare skin of my side in the exact place it had rested a moment before. He stilled and pulled back. His eyes ran with a kaleidoscope of colors. Every color I’d ever witnessed swirled together toward a black core.
“I love watching your eyes,” I whispered.
He made a sound, part groan, part growl. “Ask me for a reprieve the night of the dance. I will give it in return for just a few minutes more of this touch.”
The colors, the sound he made all made sense. He didn’t want anything to harm me, but he truly did not want to deny me anything.
Slowly, I stood on my toes and with my lips almost touching his, whispered, “Morik, allow me to dance with you at my school with my classmates Saturday night, please?”
“Yes,” he breathed. The hand on my skin twitched.
“Morik?” I leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “Don’t forget to use your other hand too.”