“I would never presume to defy destiny,mi amor,” Angela always insisted gravely.
She found him leaning against a pillar, tossing a woven ball up into the air before catching it again, and when she approached him, he looked up with that same warm smile. She got the sense he had been expecting her.
“Hello again,” he said sweetly, tossing and catching the ball with a flick of his wrist. Toss, catch. Toss, catch. The rhythm was steady, almost entrancing.
“Hello,” she echoed, with a hint of amusement. “You knew I would follow.”
It wasn’t a question, not really, but he nodded. “I suspected, yes.”
“How?”
“You could see me.”
She swept him from tousled head to polished shoes, arching a brow at the vibrant rose-hued shirt paired with his cream summer suit. “I think you are not easy to miss.”
“Ah, but you saw me before I wanted to be seen, which is very rare a talent indeed.” He caught the ball, and this time tucked it into a pocket, pushing off the pillar to step toward her. “Yousensedme.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but he held up a hand.
“Don’t insult either of us by trying to lie to me. I know the touch of another sensitive mind when I feel it.”
Angela pursed her lips. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“I know. You have great power, but untrained as it is, you can’t control it.”
“Untrue,” she sniffed haughtily. “I am well trained.”
“You sought me intentionally?”
She hesitated. “Not at first, no.”
He grinned. “Then you were slacking.”
A hot flush stole across her cheeks. “I don’t think I can be expected to be on guard at all times.”
“But you must,” he stepped closer, and this time she did not back away.
Angela held herself straight and tall, refusing to be cowed. “And why is that?”
“Who knows what could be lurking, little mortal?” He leaned in, bringing his lips so close to her ear, warm breath tickled her skin as he spoke. “You could be snatched away in moments, and all because you let down your guard.”
She tensed but would not let him intimidate her. “You overestimate your ability.”
“Do I?” He leaned back, somehow giving her the most negligible space he could.
“Oh yes,” it was her turn to smile. “Even Gods have weaknesses, you see.”
“You know what I am?” A delighted spark lit behind his eyes, and it gave him an air of lightness that she found entrancing.
“I do.”
“Will you tell me whatyouare?”
“I will not.”
“Whatareyou, Mama?”
He asked her every time, but Angela never gave her son a straight answer. Every time, she would squeeze him tightly in a hug or ruffle his hair lovingly and plant a kiss on his forehead.
