"Right. Sure."
"Is he certain he wants to go through with this?" my mother asks, licking a fingertip and flipping pages in her book.
I turn toward Kassam. "Well?"
He gives me that lazy, dimpled grin and puts a hand to his chest, directly over the game logo on his wrinkled shirt. "You mean I get a choice?"
"Honestly, no. You get about as much choice as I do." I give him an insincere smile and reach out, pretending to smooth a wrinkle on the front of his shirt. "But this is to protect me and to bind you to me, and if you want my help scratching any sort of itch in the next while, you're going to do this or I'm abandoning ship right now."
Kassam huffs with amusement. "As if you could. We were bound to one another the moment your hand touched mine."
"That may be, but there's a big difference between a willing Carly who goes along with your schemes and one that won't participate at all. I can make this really, really hard on you." I'm also bluffing, because I'm utterly powerless in this moment and I hope he doesn't realize it. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't agree to marry me. It won't make a big difference, but my mother thinks it'll protect me and I need all the protection I can get.
He gazes down at me, expression thoughtful. His hand covers the one I have on his chest, and my inner channel contracts with the force of my orgasm, hot prickles rushing through me. Bastard. I can't believe he did that in front of my mother. I glare at him, because I know this is jockeying for the upper hand. "And what do I get out of this?"
Is he serious? "A willing companion? Someone to help guide you on the way home?" I lower my voice so my mother doesn't hear. "Someone who scratches your freaking itches?"
But he just waits. "What else?"
What does he mean, what else? His gaze flicks to my mouth, and then I realize what this is about. He doesn't like that I've refused to kiss him. I wonder if Kassam has ever been refused anything at all. "Not that," I say. "That's mine. But you know that everything else is on the table."
He grunts, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "And you will not give me that?"
"Kissing belongs with love. There's no love here, just mutual using."
His eyes spark, as if he's just figured out something important. Kassam leans in, murmuring in a low voice. "I have decided that I am going to make you love me, Carly."
I laugh. Genuinely laugh. "You are talking to the ultimate non-finisher, Kassam. I never go all the way in anything, remember? The queen of unfinished projects?" I shake my head, amused. I've never been in a relationship that didn't go sour quickly. I always bail on the guy when things start to get serious. "Trust me, it's never going to happen."
"We'll see." The challenging look is back in his eyes.
"Are you two going to whisper all day or can we get this handfasting going?" my mother calls from across the store.
17
A short time later, my mother has married-slash-handfasted us in four different ways. We've repeated a half-dozen vows, all of them promising to honor and obey and cherish one another. Several times, Kassam has had to promise to look after me in sickness and in health, and to guide me through all of life's perils. He’s vowed to cleave only to me, to protect, and to be true. I don't know how much is Mom's ad-libbing and how much is true, but as Kassam binds a long, red length of cloth around our joined hands, tying us together, it feels…heavy.
Sacred.
I'm married to a god.
A really annoying, really sexually charged god who just wants his itches scratched, but whatever.
"Should we seal things with a kiss?" my mother asks cheerfully as she closes her final book.
Ulp. In that moment, I could cheerfully scream at my mother. She beams at us, oblivious to the can of worms she's just opened. Kassam gives me a look, pulling me toward him. "Yes, my light, let us kiss and ensure that the ceremony is binding."
He angles his mouth toward mine, and I turn aside at the last moment so he kisses my cheek. When Kassam pulls back, there is a challenging look in his eyes, and I suspect I've waved a red flag in front of a bull. Doesn't matter. I'm not going to give him what he wants just because he demands it.
"Well," my mother says as we pull apart. "You're as safe as I can make you, Carly honey." She clutches the book on ceremonies to her chest, her gaze misty. "Never thought I'd be the mother of the bride quite like this, but we'll get it all figured out, right? Have you had any luck with contacting his world?"