It’s too much of an annoyance, more than anything else at this point. Watching her flail around like a fledgling is making me mad with her. I materialise at her side, and she jumps, blade ready to slice and dice.
“Do you have a death wish?” she grumbles.
“Rich, coming from you,” I say, taking her arm. “Hold on, this might make you ill.”
I take her with me into the shadows, hearing her yelp as I practically abduct her from the hillside. When we materialise outside her home, she is a weird shade of pale green, and her eyes are wide. She stumbles, and then with all the elegance of a demon slayer, she turns on her heel and vomits into the lavender bush next to the front door.
She straightens up, wiping her mouth on her sleeve with disgust and fixes me with a glare that could curdle milk. “Never do that again.”
“Get inside,” I say, my voice flat. It is an order, not a request. I take a step towards her, intending to guide her through the door. She flinches away from my touch, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her blade.
“I can manage.”
“Clearly,” I counter. “Your stubbornness is a liability,slayer. It will get you killed. Now, are you going to unlock the door, or shall I remove it?”
A battle raging in those amber-hazel eyes. Pride versus pragmatism. Pain versus defiance. Finally, with a curse, she fumbles in her pocket for her keys. The jangle of metal is the sound of her surrender, and it is more satisfying than it has any right to be.
She shoves the key into the lock and twists, pushing the door open with a grunt of pain. I follow her inside, the scent of her home enveloping me. It is a place of order, in contrast to the chaos now bleeding into her world. Everything is meticulous, from the neatly stacked books on a shelf to the polished stone floor.
She makes it halfway to the kitchen before she stops, her breath hissing between her teeth as she presses a hand to her side. The bravado is crumbling, eroded by pain she can no longer conceal.
“Sit,” I command, my voice echoing slightly in the small, quiet space.
Her head whips around. “I’m not one of your minions, god.”
“No,” I agree, moving towards her. “You are far more fragile. You are injured. You will let me help you, or I will hold you down and do it anyway. The choice is yours.”
Her jaw clenches, that defiant fire blazing in her eyes. But the fight drains out of her as another wave of pain hits. With a choked sound of frustration, she limps to the small kitchen table and sinks into a chair, defeated. It is not a victory I enjoy, but it is a necessary one.
She pulls off her coat and her toes off her filthy shoes. She hands me her coat with a wicked smile. “It needs a wash. There is also the hoodie in the living room, and you might as well throw those trainers in for good measure.”
I blink at her and then at her shoes.
Her smirk widens. “Does the god know how to use a washing machine?”
My gaze flickers from the muddy trainers to her challenging smirk. A lesser being might be goaded. I am not. I dump the coat on the floor near the sink, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Move to the living room, slayer. You need to lie down.”
“I’m good.”
“Go.” The one word, said with all the authority of the God of Shadows, is enough to get her to move. Eventually. Begrudgingly. But she moves. It’s a fucking start.
I follow her to the sofa where she stretches out, looking a much better colour now that she is horizontal.
Kneeling next to her, I reach for the hem of her top. Her hand clamps down on mine.
“I don’t think so.”
“How else am I meant to assess the damage?”
“X-ray vision?” she chirps.
“No,” I say, not biting at her sarcasm. It will infuriate her more if I ignore her wit.
Her gaze bores into mine, and I increase the intensity of my stare. Her mouth relaxes, her eyes soften, and she becomes pliable in my hands as I use compulsion on her. “That’s better, slayer,” I murmur. “Relax. Let me help you.”
She nods and closes her eyes. It’s not how I wanted to do this, but she leaves me with little choice. She is a giant pain in the arse. I lift her top, and this time she doesn’t stop me. I push it over her tits, ignoring how gorgeous they are and how much I want to shove my dick in between them. I could. I could take her now, and she wouldn’t object.
