What the fuck just happened.
"You're insane," I hear myself say.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"You were saying. Why are you here."
I have to reboot my entire brain before I can remember what we were talking about.
Right.
Questions.
I was asking questions before a god decided to climb on top of me and have a moment about honorifics.
"You were hurt." He says it flat. Simple. Like he didn't just—like that was normal. "He was hurting you."
"People hurt me all the time. Gods don't usually start wars over it."
"I'm not most gods."
No shit.
I knew that before I knew his name. Before I saw him stand up in the Concord with his—
Don't think about that. Focus.
"Coin's going to retaliate." My mind is spinning back online even though my body is still catching up. "You just took their property. There are treaties, contracts—"
"Fuck the treaties."
"That's not how this works—"
"It's exactly how this works." He's still crouched beside the bed, eyes level with mine. "Coin had something I wanted. Now they don't. Everything else is noise."
My pulse kicks up again. He's still too close. I can smell him—the same scent that's in the sheets, but stronger, headier. My shoulders want to drop and that's wrong, that's backwards, my body doesn't relax around threats.
Except apparently it does now. Apparently my survival instincts have decided to take the day off. Great. Love that for me.
"What do you want." Even. Good. At least my voice is working even if the rest of me has lost its mind.
He doesn't answer right away. His eyes track over my face—the bruises, the split lip, the marks on my throat—and his jaw tightens.
"I want to put my mouth on every place he touched you." Low. Matter-of-fact. "I want to make you forget anyone else has ever had their hands on your skin. I want to keep you here where I can see you breathing."
My brain stops.
Just—stops. White noise. Nothing.
But my body doesn't stop. Static floods through me, sudden and consuming. My nipples tighten under the silk. My thighs press together without permission. I'm flushed all the way down my chest and he can probably see it, can probably see exactly what those words did to me.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that.
"That's not an answer," I manage. Too breathless. Too obvious.
"It's the only honest one I have."
