Mila seemed much too pleased with herself for surprising Marcus with that slap on the ass and comment about being bad. She couldn't quite place the way he stared at her, but she felt she won by silencing him. She patted his ass in the most condescending way as she smiled sweetly like she was perfectly innocent. "Gotta get dressed, devil-boy."

She moved off the bed and didn't bother covering herself as she stood beside the bed and reached up, stretching her back and arms and legs all at once as she raised on her tiptoes. Marcus watched her stretch, the backside of her body on full display. He meant to get back at her for the ass slap but now he was distracted by her ass.

"Where do you think you're going?" Marcus asked, finally finding his mind after he used every amount of self-control to look away from her ass. "I'm assuming you intend to leave if you're getting dressed, because if you even try to wear clothes around me in private anymore, I will burn them off you."

"Pyromaniac," Mila accused, sending him a glare over her shoulder as she walked to her dresser. "What do you mean, 'intend' to leave? I can leave if I want."

Marcus's naked body was pressed against Mila's back so fast, she gasped. He slipped his hand down between her legs and shoved two fingers inside her. Mila moaned, leaning back against him as he curled his fingers inside her then brought his hand up, pushing his wet fingers between her lips again. Mila whimpered, wondering how he could turn her on so fast already while she sucked his fingers clean.

"Taste that?" Marcus whispered against her ear, bringing his other hand up and wrapping it around her throat. "That's my cum, and your cum is only there because I let it be. This pussy," he said, sliding his hand down and cupping between her legs, making her inhale sharply. "This whole body is mine now. I say intend to leave because I don't know what the fuck makes you think I'm letting you go anywhere when I can easily tie you to this bed and have you begging to be fucked for the rest of the day."

"Man, you got obsessed with me real fast," Mila teased, tilting her head back to look at him.

"I get obsessive over my belongings," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes and tightening his hand on her throat.

Mila gasped, her body warming all over again. This was not good. She had responsibilities and he was making her way to say fuck them all so she could fuck him instead.

"I need to go check on my sister," she managed to get out. That had Marcus's expression softening but that wasn't all it was. There was a brief flash of pain and Mila frowned as he slowly released her but then wrapped his arms around her waist and just held her. Like a boyfriend might. Her heart skipped a beat and she shoved that thought away. "I also need you to kill me, don't think I've forgotten you're shirking your duties just because I know what your dick feels like. I still need to die."

Marcus sighed and released Mila, shaking his head and bending down to get his boxers. He pulled them up while Mila turned, still fully nude, still incredibly sexy, and just addressed him as if she wasn't totally naked and making it difficult for him to focus. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Marcus lied. He didn't know how to tell her, if he should tell her that Stella's fate was sealed. He looked in her eyes and swallowed. It would break her heart. He couldn't do it.

"For a demon, you're a pretty bad liar," Mila informed him, turning and digging into her dresser. "So can we schedule that death soon? Because she's going to have to go back to Chicago for another round of treatments."

"I'm not killing you."

"Well then maybe I just won't let you fuck me again unless you swear to do it after," Mila said simply.

Marcus sighed and walked over to the dresser, leaning back against it and crossing his arms as Mila found clothes to put on after her shower. "How do you know it will even work? You're so confident your death is what she needs, and I don't get it. Is there some treatment you want for her that you're not getting right now because you can't afford it?"

"No, but you don't understand," Mila sighed, setting her bra and panties down and bringing her fingers to her temples. "This has been our life for years. The money runs out so fast. You have no idea how fast it runs out. Hospital bills, medicine, bloodwork, all those scans, they all cost a shit ton of money. The money she'd get from my life insurance would be enough to last her until she got better."

"And what if it wasn't?" Marcus challenged. "What if it only helped for a while and then not only is she dealing with this illness but also grieving the death of her sister? All the treatments in the world can't mend a broken heart and going through grief like that would make her body weaker. It could make things worse, not better."

"That's not..." Mila shook her head, not liking the way that almost made sense. "She'd be better off without me, she might think she wouldn't be but she would be because in my place could be an at home nurse," Mila pointed out. "Someone that could watch her all the time, and give her care I could never give her, and let her go to every treatment in the world there is until something works. I'm not stupid, I know it would hurt her to lose me, but if that pain means she gets to live then it's the lesser evil."

"Unless that pain is too much for what she's already dealing with," Marcus countered. "Grief doesn't just take on mental forms, Mila. The weight of it would be so heavy it would weigh on her physically and maybe so much so that not even twenty-four hour care could help her."

Mila clammed up, trying not to get emotional despite the echo of stinging in the back of her eyes. "I just want to help her," she said quietly.

Marcus's face fell and he grabbed Mila, pulling her into his arms and guiding her head to his chest. "I know you do. I'm sorry," he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "That was harsh. I just... I want you to understand that it may seem simple to you, that this is how you help her, but imagine what losing you would do to her. I would argue that it would hurt more than help."

"Then what do I do?" Mila whispered. She hated it, this moment of vulnerability. She wasn't vulnerable with people. But she loved Stella dearly and she was terrified of losing her, of having another piece of her heart broken. It wouldn't be recognizable anymore if she lost Stella. "I can't do nothing."

"You're not doing nothing. You're working all the time, you're staying with her, you do a lot," Marcus said, bringing his hand under her chin. "There are some things, that no matter how hard we try, we can't change. We just can't."

"I refuse to accept that," Mila said, pulling away and shaking her head, grabbing her clothes and heading to the bathroom. "I refuse to accept that."

Mila walked in the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Sighing, Marcus stared at the closed door, torn about how to handle this. He didn't want to tell Mila what Gabriel told him about Stella, but he couldn't help but wonder if the positions were reversed, if he would appreciate the information being withheld. He just knew it would break her heart, and she'd been through too much. Part of his brain argued at least this way she could be prepared for it, the other part argued it would do nothing but cause her more pain and stress.

He didn't know what to do, but he heard her in the shower, through the water running, he heard her. She was crying. Alone. It was another soft moment she wouldn't share with him. Like she was afraid her softness would lead to bad things, and he wondered if that was the problem.

She couldn't be soft with her father because he would tell her she was too much. She was soft with Terry, and got locked up in a psychiatric hospital. She was soft with her friend, then lost her to suicide. She was soft with her mother who she watched die, alone in a hospital room because Terry was stuck in traffic. All of the hardest moments of her life, she'd been through alone, and Marcus wondered if that's why she wouldn't be soft with him. Because she didn't know how to be. Because she'd never been given the opportunity to be soft around anyone without worrying about what would follow.

Marcus took off the boxers and walked towards the bathroom naked. He passed through the door, not bothering to open it or the shower curtain as he stepped under the water with her.

"What are you doing?" Mila asked turning towards the water, quickly trying to hide the tears. She didn't cry in front of people. She couldn't. "Ready for another round already?" She laughed, letting her eyes close as she took deep breaths to get ahold of her tears.

"No," Marcus said, turning her to face him and pulling her body against his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought his other hand up into her hair, hugging and cradling her against him.

"What is this?" Mila asked, hating the way her heart melted at the gesture, the way her eyes wanted to betray her and let all the tears escape right then, in his arms, because maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if someone else was holding her together. "You don't have to try this hard to fuck me. I'm already willing."

"I'm not trying to fuck you," Marcus said, stroking her hair, tightening his arm around her waist.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Holding you."

That stinging in Mila's eyes came back and tried so hard to hold it back. "Why?"

"I told you. You're mine," Marcus said, setting his head on her chin. "That includes the hurting parts. It especially includes the hurting parts."

"I'm not hurting," Mila tried to laugh but her voice cracked.

"All right, then I guess I just want to hold you."

"And I'm not yours," Mila added. "I don't belong to anyone. How would you like it if I said you belonged to me?"

Marcus shrugged, his fingers curling around her waist as he held her tighter against him. "I would agree, because I'm not a liar like you."

"I'm not a liar," Mila scoffed, but her body was melting against him, not wanting him to let go while at the same time afraid to let him see how sad she really was.

Marcus eased his hold on her enough to slide his hand down and tilt her chin up towards him. He stared down at her and that eye contact did something. It broke something in her and stray, traitorous tears escaped down her face. Marcus's hand slid slowly, delicately up to her face and he caught the tears with his thumb.

"You're not alone," he murmured, his brows furrowing, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You don't have to mask everything with jokes. I won't call you crazy, I won't think you're too much, and I won't stop holding you."

More tears wanted to come and Mila took in a shaky breath. Making eye contact was a lot harder when he made her feel stripped bare like that. The physical nakedness didn't bother her, it was the emotional and mental nakedness. The way he stared at her like he could see past all the walls of distractions she had in place to protect herself. Like he knew the way through the maze and wasn't afraid to brave the dark and cracked corners.

"Because you belong to me," Mila managed to get out in an almost convincing, teasing tone.

Marcus nodded, and lowered his lips to hers, speaking the words before placing a light kiss on her lips that wasn't sensual at all, instead it was like a kiss on the broken parts of her she tried to keep locked in. "I'm yours as much as you are mine. And you are. The hurting parts and the happy ones. All mine."