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“During mating?”

“YES!”

“Oh, um, well, Demons do.”

Interesting.

That explains several awkward conversations throughout the twentieth century.

“I can’t believe this!”

“Um, I see.”

“You see?”

“Humans are strange.”

She throws her hands into the air.

“Humans are strange?”

“Very.”

She starts laughing.

Actually laughing.

Loud, helpless laughter.

I stare in confusion.

“Have I said something amusing?”

“You just gave me a permanent hickey and called me your wife!”

“I did not call you my wife. You are more than that, Myrrin.”

She points dramatically.

“Claiming! Marks! Everything I own is yours! Living for me! Desmond, we've known each other for six hours!”

I smile.

“Yes.”

“That's insane.”

“No, it’s fate, my love.”

“You can't love someone in six hours.”

I stand and approach carefully.

“Josie.”

She looks up.

“I have loved the idea of you for three hundred years.”