Page 70 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
Eluheed supposed it was only fair. After all, he'd told her not to ask about his mark.
He traced the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the elegant line of her spine, while she drew patterns on his chest, carefully avoiding the mark.
"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.
He tensed. "You can ask. I might not answer."
"Fair enough." She was quiet for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts. "That mark on your chest is not really a burn, is it?"
His heart rate spiked, but he forced himself to remain still. "It actually is."
"I've seen burns, Elias. They are never that precise unless someone did it deliberately, like with a hot iron."
He was quiet for so long that she probably thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he said, "It wasn't done with a hot iron."
"Then what?"
He couldn't tell her. "It's part of a shamanic tradition, and I'm not allowed to talk about it."
It was a partial lie, and the best he could do without revealing who and what he really was.
She traced near it but not on it, her touch feather-light. "It must have been agonizing."
"Pain is often the price of transformation."
She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Thank you for telling me."
Guilt twisted in his stomach. He'd given her a half-truth at best, but it was more than he'd shared with anyone on this planet.
"Your turn," he said, wanting to redirect the conversation. "You said that you've been with a god. What did you mean?"
She stiffened against him, and for a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. Then she sighed, her breath warm against his skin.
"Do you know how I came to be here? I mean in the harem?"
"I assumed Lord Navuh chose you for your beauty, and once Lady Areana arrived, he decided that he didn't want any of his concubines."
She shook her head. "Navuh inherited me along with the other concubines. We belonged to his father first, and he was a god. His name was Mortdh, and he loved using all of us as well as every priestess in his many fertility temples and any goddess that agreed to share her bed with him."
The implications made his stomach turn. "Was he cruel to you?"
She shrugged. "He wasn't abusive, but he was what nowadays would be called a narcissist. I was young, naive, and I hoped he would fall in love with me and choose me above all others. But I was just an immortal, and I didn't conceive. I was worthless to him. He hoped to father a pureblooded god child with a goddess."
He tightened his arms around her. "You're not worthless. You are priceless."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm ruining the mood."
"No." He turned so he could see her face. "Don't apologize for feeling sad or disappointed. Not with me. You never have to pretend with me."
She searched his eyes. "You're dangerous, you know that?"
"How so?"
"You make me want things I can't have. Freedom. Choice. A life beyond these walls." She touched his face. "You."
"You have me," he said, meaning it despite all the reasons he shouldn't.
23
