Page 93 of Make Me A Sinner
“You see, gods don’t usually get married,” I say, watching her closely. “But wecanchoose a partner to spend eternity with, even if that partner is mortal. Because what I’m promising you is...immortality.” I pause, taking in the shock in her eyes. Her expression is priceless. “I just need my father’s approval. He’s the only one who can make that happen. And I don’t doubt he will. We just have to wait a little because itcan happenonly once a year. The last night of October.”
“Halloween,” she breathes, stunned, trying to piece things together.
“Yeah, it’s a night of liminality, the edge of something mystic, something usually forbidden to mortals. It’s called the final night of mortality, the final moment of hesitation before crossing into something irrevocable. That’s when most people celebrate my Father. A moment when time feels suspended, when the world holds its breath, worshiping the true powers that rule this earth. More attention is focused on him on that night, more reverence, more power.” She’s still, staring at me like I justpeeled back reality for her once again. “It’s not just a publicity stunt. This thing is real, has something to do with focused energies, to the way belief changes the world. And trust me, he’s a lot more popular these days than he used to be.”
“I thought…” she breathes, relief thick in her voice.
“That you’re finally getting rid of me at some point?” I arch a brow. “Not a chance,” I say, right as her arms wrap around my neck and she jumps up for a kiss, her body lifting into mine like she’s done waiting—the union of lips that seals our eternity. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate and deep, like she’s staking a claim—and offering one.
I catch her without thinking, my hands grabbing her like she might vanish if I let go. I don’t ever want to let go. I just kiss her there, the moon watching above us, pyramids glowing in the distance like ancient sentinels, quietly bearing witness to our forever.
Becauseforeverstarts here.
“What about... what about kids?” she says, her lips still merging with mine, like she won’t ever let go.
“As I said before, I’ll have to get Father‘s approval. Creating new entities has to be somehow... controlled. But it won’t be a problem. Not too many, though, we don’t want to spark an apocalypse.” I feel her kissing me even fiercely. I never thought I wanted kids before. But I want anything she’ll give me. And if that means one day some little troublemaker is gonna run around ruining my life, then so be it. I just want to wait for a while and enjoy a very extended honeymoon. Give it a few centuries or so.
But before we can get any of that, there’s something else I want from her. “I’m not dropping to one knee and proposing,” I almost laugh at the absurdity, “That’s not how we do things. And I think you got over that with Nick.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced. Like she still carries a hope of that fantasy.
“I could do that, if you want me to. Just say the word, and I’ll have a plane writing it across the sky in less than an hour.”
She arches a brow, knowing that’s not... me.
“But marriage is... you know...in the eyes of God,” I explain the real problem of the situation.
“Oh... Right.” She realizes why marrying her would be, at best, complicated—in reality, highly impossible.
“But I’m giving you something else in return.” My voice, almost breaking with a strange excitement, maybe also relief. “You can mark me.” Her eyes rise with uncertainty. I let it hang for a second before continuing, “I’ll wear your mark on my body for all eternity.” I say, already buzzing in anticipation for the moment to come.
“Mark you? You already have a piercing...down there.Can I just swap the jewelry for something with my initials?”
I smirk. “I was thinking something a little more permanent.” I reach into my pocket and pull out of small knife, then slip it between her fingers. “I had the blade forged from the bullet. That way, your mark on my skin won’t heal over; it will scar. Forever.”
She takes a deep breath, staring at the knife, her fingers tightening around the handle. I know she wants to say no, so that she won’t cause me any pain. But I also know she realizes what sayingyestruly means. This isn’t a gesture. It’s a vow, a commitment beyond any words. “Where should I do this?” she asks, trying to steady her voice.
“Wherever you want.”
She hesitates for a second. “Where would you like it?” she asks, and I take her hand in response, guiding it inside my shirt, right next to where the bullet wound used to be. It’s only a scar now.
“Okay,” she breathes like she’s been running a marathon. The weight of the moment pressing heavily on her shoulders. “Can we sit down?” Her knees sink into the carpet beneath our feet, and I follow her lead. We’ll do this however she wants.
Her fragile hands move gently inside my shirt, unbuttoning it until my chest is bare. Then she glances up at me one last time, making sure that this is really what I want. “Will you… do the same?” her voice quivers as she asks, almost breaking.
“You already wear my mark,” the corner of my mouth raises into a grin just thinking about my metal between her thighs. “But once you’re immortal, I’ll mark you with my blade—if that’s what you want. It will be less painful that way.”
“I can live with that,” her voice, barely above a whisper, as her fingers run against my chest, the blade approaching my skin.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan as the blade breaks skin, the tip carving into my flesh.
This isn’t pain. It’s fucking bliss.
Becoming hers is fucking bliss.
But then she suddenly stops, the knife barely grazing me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, watching her closely.
