Page 241 of The Wishing Game

"To go against their mandates is to suffer dire consequences," he continues, his breath fanning the inside of my wrist. "But they did not think I would ever be capable of going against them."

"Why?" I whisper.

"Because they did not just program me to be their killing machine. They also stripped me of any emotion that might make me inclined to do otherwise—to think or want something else for myself."

"Then... The condition you were talking about?"

He nods.

"It is my curse."

My eyes widen.

"Then..." I swallow hard, dropping my hand from his face. "When you said my marks were caused by a god, did you mean..."

His expression tenses as he gives me a brisk nod.

"This is a curse?" I repeat feebly, my voice breaking.

"I do not know." He sighs. "It is the mark of a god," he continues, pulling me closer to him. His eyes dip to my neckline as he pulls on my bodice to reveal my dark marks. I gasp at the sound of the material tearing, but he doesn't give me the chance to pull back. He splays his palm over my chest, just above my breasts. Purple particles of energy envelop his hand, seeping into my skin.

"Ah," I yelp as the marks burn against my skin, humming as if alive.

Dropping his hand, he nods to me to look at myself. That is when I notice that the black of the marks is now a bright white.

"It is the energy of a god, though I cannot tell you what the purpose was. But I vow to you I shall find out."

Still staring at the changing color of my marks, now slowly going back to black, I nod numbly.

"Thank you." I smile as I bring my gaze to his. "We're quite similar, aren't we?" I chuckle in an attempt to make the situation less morose than it already is.

For years I've been thinking that these marks were merely Sergio's punishment, and so I'd hated them as I hated him. But they're not. Instead, they might be a curse from a god...

"I will not let anything happen to you, Luce," he says quietly. "I will find whoever marked you and I will get to the bottom of it. I may not be able to save myself, but I will save you."

My lips part as I stare at him, his pronouncement ringing in my ears.

Tearing my gaze from him, I wet the cloth again and bring it to his chest to wipe the remainder of the sticky substance.

"Maybe we can both be saved," I murmur.

He takes a deep breath.

"If only that were so..."

"Don't be so negative, Ze. Aren't you the most powerful guy around? I doubt there's anything that can stop you." I laugh nervously.

But one glance at him tells me he doesn't share my optimism.

"There is only a matter of time before the Supremes find out that their curse is weakening. When that happens... I do not want to risk your safety."

"Ze," I call his name in a playful tone. "Are you being nice?"

He blinks slowly before he realizes I'm making fun of him. The corners of his mouth curl up, amusement entering his previously stern features.

"I am...nice," he says tentatively. "I am nice," he repeats, this time more confidently.

Suddenly, it strikes me why he's so adamant about beingnice. He's never been seen in a positive light by anyone in his life, has he? I struggle to keep the smile on my face as moisture clouds my sight. Maybe it's better that he didn't have emotions before so he couldn't realize just how godawful his life was, but what about now?

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