Seventh Mark (Part 1 +2) by W.J. May Page A

iron.
    I swore she
caught the hot part in her bare hand but didn’t even flinch.
    Setting the
curling iron on the counter, she grabbed a few bobby pins. “Aren’t
all famous couples tragic?”
    Her hand was
obviously not burned. I pointed at her in the mirror. She was
dressed as Fashion Fairy Tale Barbie. “I don’t think Barbie and Ken
have a tragic ending.”
    “Touché. But if
Damon see’s the outfits, he might change that.” She giggled at my
shocked looked in the mirror. “I’m just kidding. He’s the one who
gave me the idea.” She pinned the last bobby pin in my hair.
“Stand.”
    We stared at my
reflection. The faded grey-blue slave’s dress had tattered sleeves
and hem but I was willing to bet, no slave ever wore a dress this
formfitting. Grace had tied a black scarf around my waist for a
belt. She’d bought the gorgeous pair of strappy sandals from a
second-hand shop.
    She traced her
fingers along her collar bone. “Something’s missing.” Snapping her
fingers, she disappeared out of the room.
    I stared down
at my red polished toe nails and leaned against the doorframe.
Grace had found a gladiator costume on eBay in Michael’s size. The
thought of his body in a fighter’s outfit created a tingling in my
lower abdomen. I was willing to bet Spartacus had nothing on
Michael. Hopefully I didn’t embarrass myself with staring, or even
worse if I’d start salivating .
    “Wear this.”
Grace held something shiny in her hand. “It’s not a choker, but we
can link the clasp on a shorter part of the chain and make it look
like one.
    The necklace,
beautiful and obviously antique, was made of sterling and shone
like Grace had just polished it. “I can’t wear that.”
    “I know Roman
slaves wore copper, but this is so perfect. It’s--”
    “Too
expensive.” My fingers had a will of their own and reached for the
silver. The chain was cool, but the aged Celtic pendant had a
unique feel. Heavy but…different. I couldn’t tell if it was hot or
cold. I held it up to the light. The pendant turned out to actually
be some sort of vial with a ruby inside. “Is this some kind of
family heirloom?” I’m not wearing this -- my luck it belonged to
Caleb’s mother.
    “Just try it
on.” Grace took it from my hand and clipped the chilly metal around
my neck. Against my skin, the pendant gave me goose bumps but
warmed instantly. How in the world did it do that?
    “Don’t you look
adorable, little sis,” Michael said sarcastically from the hall
doorway. “Apparently your idea of tragedy is quite different than
the rest of the worlds.”
    Grace’s
bouffant hairdo blocked my view of Michael’s face. A round shield
covered his body, except for his bare legs and sandaled feet.
    “Hardy-har-har.” Grace faked a girly laugh. “My shopping helped you
though. You’re quite dashing.”
    “Half naked in
October? Don’t you th—” He froze as I stepped beside Grace.
    Grace grinned,
a wacky, I-got-you-good smile totally meant for her brother. “Come
on, don’t look so serious. It’s Halloween! Let her be your slave
for a night.”
    Hot. Very
hot. Muscles and flesh and metal everywhere. No wonder the
Romans loved their gladiators. He could have been a god. However,
the scowl on his face stopped me from sharing my thoughts.
    He glanced back
and forth between the two of us. His face then broke into a
half-smile. “You do make a sexy slave.” He walked over and reached
for the necklace’s pendant. It seemed to burn with his touch. His
fingers cooled the skin against my collar and neck.
    My breath
caught. “This isn’t Caleb’s, is it?”
    He chuckled.
Leaning forward, he gave me a tender kiss on the forehead. “It’s
definitely not Caleb’s.” He tucked a stray curl behind my ear.
    My head spun. I
wasn’t sure if it was from the moment as it seemed like something
deeper than just words were being said, or if it was Michael’s
close proximity, or the fact I’d forgotten to breathe.
    Grace