New Year’s resolutions!

Closing my eyes, I ponder what useless pledge I’ll make to myself this time. It’s hard to focus with the monstrous man’s heat seeping into me or the fact that my ass is glued to his torso, but I try.

Oh, bingo—I promise I won’t grind anymore on Ilian Yaniqu.

It’s probably the most sensible resolution I’ve ever made, much better than my paltry promises to lose weight.

“Zhuliya—”

“I’m going to lose weight!”

My stupid brain fritzes when Ilian whispers my name, and I blurt out the mortifying words. I close my eyes and pray this isn’t real.

Too late for that.

“Zhuliya? Zhuliya!”

“What?” I croak.

The giant Ithaqua curls his arm until I’m sitting up straight, my back nearly plastered to his chest.

“You do not need to lose weight.”

He doesn’t ask me why I said it or what I was thinking. No, he just utters this single sentence laced with absolute conviction.

“I don’t?”

Ilian scowls when I twist my head to the side to catch his eye. “Who told you that?”

A bubble of laughter builds inside of me. “Oh, every doctor, magazine, and scale I’ve stepped on.”

His fuchsia gaze burns brighter. “Get a new doctor, fuck those magazines, and stop stepping on scales. They sound like land mines for your mental health. You’re perfect.”

He punctuates the words with sexy, little growls that send my actual New Year’s resolution into oblivion.

How do I not grind on the man when he makes sounds like that?

“Is my back ruined?”

Ilian tilts his head. “Ruined? Oh—no, it’s not. It’s…healed.”

“Healed? Already? How?!”

“Zhuliya, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I imprinted upon you.”

“Um, what’s imprinting?”

He shifts, jostling my entire body which is still draped across his arm. “It’s where an Ithaquan male imparts a piece of his soul into his mate.”

Piece of soul.

Into mate.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no!”

The horned man cringes, running a claw down my back. I’m unsure if it’s a gesture of reassurance, but it soothes me all the same—which is bad.

Very bad.

“I’m so sorry, Zhuliya. I promise I’ll fix this.”

“How? I know nothing about mates or imprinting, but ‘imparting a piece of your soul’ seems pretty freaking permanent!”

Ilian winces. “It was an accident.”

He sounds so defeated, and I feel like a bitch. I’m letting my mouth speak without permission, but in my defense, I’m confused—and a little hurt.

I’m not Ilian’s choice, just an accident, per his words.

“Right, sorry.”

Ilian groans. “Great Ulu, please don’t apologize to me! It’s all my fault. I…I couldn’t help myself.”

“You couldn’t?”

“No. I swear I fought against my instincts, but your scent—gods, your scent. Never have I smelled anything so divine.”

This more than mollifies the ache in the pit of my stomach, and I remind myself that I don’t want to be mated to a stranger, so I have no right to feel upset about it being an accident.

“Erm, thank you. So how do you take away an imprint?” A thought comes to mind, and I pout. “I’m going to have to remove my new ink, aren’t I?”

Ilian nods. “Yes, but it’s not that simple.”

At this, I snort. For a tattoo artist to call ink removal ‘simple’ is laughable, and perhaps a bit terrifying.

“Go on.”

He sighs. “Aisyth must be the one to dissolve our bond as well as the tat.”

“The goddess?!”

“You know Aisyth?”

A scorching blush suffuses my cheeks, running down my very naked body. “Kind of…I should get dressed.”

When I don’t explain more and try to get up, Ilian presses a hand onto my spine, flattening me back down. I wheeze as the air whooshes out of my lungs.

“How do you know Aisyth?”