Page 197 of Mayhem and Minnie

“Forever? When you say forever you mean…”

“Once you’re my bonded mate, you will have the same lifespan as me. We would never have to be apart. Never,” she adds fervently.

That changes things.

I ruminate quietly over the issue at hand. Of course there’s still the possibility that this mythical place doesn’t exist. But what if it does?

We’d then be together forever—what I’ve wanted from the beginning.

Ah, but this is quite a dilemma, isn’t it? Who knows when we’ll find it if it does indeed exist?

“When you say consummation, does that refer only to the act itself, or can we…do other things?”

She presses her lips together.

“I don’t know. But it’s better we don’t take any chances.”

“That’s why you’ve never kissed me on the lips?”

She nods.

“But… Why the hell would you appear naked in front of me then? Why tempt me like that?”

“Because at that time, I wasn’t sure about the terms.” She traces her fingers on the written part of the text. “This is written in Ancient Aperite. It’s a dead language, so there aren’t many people who would know how to translate it. It took me a long time to teach myself to finally make sense of what was written in the book.”

I thread my fingers through my hair and sigh. How the fuck did everything turn so complicated?

I throw a glance at my ring-making equipment and realize I’ve been working so hard all day for nothing. She’s not going to marry me until we find this goddamn mythical place.

“It’s not that I don’t want you, Marlowe. I very much do. But this is an unprecedented opportunity and we can’t dismiss it,” she continues.

The entire thing is absurd. But it’s clear she believes in it.

“What about Lucien?” I suddenly ask.

“What about him?” she inquires tentatively.

“Why didn’t you sleep with him then? When you didn’t know about the terms?”

“That’s…” She swallows and averts her gaze. “That was different,” she mumbles.

“Different how?”

“He was a sick man, Marlowe,” she explains weakly.

“So you would have slept with him if not for that,” I state in a tight voice.

She doesn’t reply, yet the answer lingers in the air.

“I see.”

The rage bubbles beneath the surface, but I can’t let it come out—not now. We have far more important things to discuss. And as much as I hate the situation we’re in, I’d do anything to help her. Even remain a monk for the rest of my life.

Fucking hell.

I cannot believe I’m contemplating this. After weeks of intense sensual torture, I now find out I may never get to touch her like I want to. As long as she believes in that mythical place, there’s no way she’s going to want to engage in anything sexual. And I’m too much of a fucking fool for her to go against her wishes. I’d never force her if she doesn’t want to.

The issue is that she clearly wants to as well.

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