Page 92 of Marked by the Demigod

The knob in his throat moves as he swallows, and she can see the desire and fear in his eyes. If he says she can't go she's gonna slap him. "The apartment might be watched." He says, quiet.

"I figured," she says, shrugging off his hand and fitting the shirt on. "It's not like I can just...stay here forever."

The look on his face disagrees, but that isn't going to stop her. "I'll take you?" He says, and it's so clearly a compromise in his mind that she's touched. Almost.

Her phone beeps, and he nakedly scowls at it.

TRIXIE (9:29 AM): Dupars.

AIMES (9:29 AM): Meet you there in 15.

"I could take you both to France," Iakov says, sudden. She gets the distinct feeling that he is somehow trying to make up for the last few days, but how he always does, by flattering her and taking her somewhere. "Would she like France?"

Aimes struggles into a pair of jeans, the knot in her chest almost overwhelming, and Iakov winces at her motions. "Shouldn't you, I dunno, rest more? Before doing intercontinental travel?" Beyond her control, she turns to him and unbuttons his shirt, her fingers shaking.

His eyebrows fly up, in clear confusion. "What are you..."

The wave of irritation flares. "I'm checking the bandages. Obviously," she says to his chest, too annoyed to look at his face.

The bandage is clean, dry, and perfect looking, and when she tentatively presses her hand into it she only feels a vague echo of pain. "You're going to keep this clean?" She asks, her voice sounding much dimmer than she wants it to.

He grasps her hand, presses it harder into the wound, and she still only feels the small bit of pain. "It's already past that stage," his voice sounds strange, a thread of hope in it. "It'll...it'll be fine in a few days." He pauses, as if deliberating. "Those fucking stitches will leave scars."

She turns away from him, and it hurts just as much as the press against the wound. "I'm still...upset. At you."

She can feel him nod behind her. "I still don't want you to drive there." He moves to her dresser, picks up the necklace he gave her, handing it loosely in his fists. "Bulletproof."

It's so surreal, the feeling that she should be much more emotional than she actually is, but she clasps the necklace on without any fanfare. "Last time, this was how they found me." She challenges, itching under her skin to get a rise.

Instead he just looks sad. "Yeah." He holds out his hand in a clear offering, and she takes it, and opens her eyes again in the awkward bathroom at Crave Cafe, the restaurant literally next door from Dupars.

After her prerequisite stumble and finding her bearings, he lays both hands on her shoulders, and kisses her.

As far as kisses go, it's far from their most passionate, and she jerks back, leaving a rough taste in her mouth. At his wounded look, she points to the mediocre toilet and broken sink. "We're in a bathroom."

It's a weak excuse, and they both know it. "Right."

Holding her purse like a shield, she strides out, her skin prickling at the mess of feelings he's exuding.

* * *

She has rarely beenas grateful for Trixie as she is at the moment she strides into Dupars, where Trixie stands up at the booth and gives her the biggest hug ever, squeezing tight and leaning into her with her entire body.

Aimes goes a bit limp into the hug, and Trixie just squeezes tighter. "Oh my god, Aimes," she whispers, pulling away and all but guiding Aimes to sit down. "I didn't think you were coming."

A menu is shoved in front of her, but she feels like she can barely register any of the words. "Jake brought me," she says, as blasé and as matter of fact as she can make it. "He has that..." She tries to mime a teleport thing with her hand, and looks very stupid from it.

Thankfully, Trixie nods. "That's fucking weird," she says, as she looks through the menu herself.

To an outsider they look incredibly, heartrendingly normal, two girls going to brunch together at an old style restaurant. Aimes wishes she could lose herself in that moment, despite the giant ravine of awkwardness looming in the distance.

"How's Kristopher?" She asks, with what is probably forced casualness.

Trixie raises an eyebrow at the menu. "He's in New York for like, two weeks. That case went utterly sideways and even more...legal things with it came up."

"Legal things?"

Trixie shrugs. "He explained it to me, and I still didn't get it." She risks a glance up to Aimes. "He's the smarter one."

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