He paused as if he realized something. “Except technically Lothaire’s. Talk about daddy issues.”

John howled with laughter.

I shoved a pillow over his head and tried to suffocate him, but he wrestled it out of my hands as he kept laughing.

Rude.

No, I didn’t want a man to call me baby girl. Gag. But that didn’t mean a man wouldn’t want to call me baby girl. The distinction mattered.

I bristled.

Was he implying no one would ever want me?

John didn’t know about the scar Mother had carved into my back, so he had no reason to think I’d die a virgin.

Insecurity unfurled in my gut as I mumbled, “You don’t have to be mean about it.”

I shuffled backward on the narrow bed to put space between us.

“What?” John stopped laughing and stared at me with confusion.

I said under my breath, “Some man might be into me someday. It’s not that funny.”

“Wait.” John scooted closer, and his size overwhelmed my small bed. “You think I’m laughing at the idea of a guy being into you?”

Why was it suddenly so hard to speak?

“Aran,” he said slowly.

The strange gleam in his dark eyes made my stomach swoop, and I blurted out, “Do you hate me now that you know I’m really a woman?”

His expression darkened. “I loathe you.”

An awkward moment passed.

He glared.

Talk about whiplash.

Had Mr. Hyde returned? John didn’t switch personalities on a whim; it was more of a couple of days of John being a brooding psycho kind of thing, then he was super smiley and back to normal.

I couldn’t figure it out.

“Just kidding, you dumb cunt.” John showed off his white teeth and slapped me on the arm with all his strength.

Thank the sun god.

At least some things never changed.

I rubbed at my throbbing arm. “You know, you don’t get to start calling me a cunt and bitch now that you know I’m a woman.”

“Okay, slut.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and prayed for a different life, new friends, and a scrap of mental health.

I opened my eyes.

John made a breast motion with his hands over his chest, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me.