"You think I make decisions." He stands. The cot creaks. "You think any of this is—" His hand gestures vaguely. At me.At the room. At whatever the fuck is happening between us. "Decided?"
"You decided to come for me."
"No."
"You decided to put me in your bed."
"No."
"You decided—"
"I didn't decide anything." He takes a step toward me. His head tilts again, that wrong angle, watching me with an interest that should probably scare me. "My body went to Coin. My hands killed Kairis. My arms carried you through the tunnels. I was just—there. Watching it happen."
"That's insane."
"Yes." Another step. He's smiling now. Actually smiling. It's not comforting. "That's what I keep telling everyone. Insane. The Mad God of Discord. And yet you keep asking me questions like I have answers."
"Then give me something. Anything. What do you want from me?"
He stops. Close enough that I can smell a fresh breeze still on him from wherever he just came from.
"What I want."
"Yes."
"That's a dangerous question."
"I don't care."
His smile widens. His head tips to the side and he looks at me like I'm something fascinating.
"I want—"
He stops.
Starts again.
"I want to know what sounds you—no. That's not." His jaw tightens. "I want to know if you're loud. When you. If you—"
His hand drags through his hair. Frustrated.
"I want to know what your face does. When you stop thinking. When you just—I want to see that. I want to be the one who—" He cuts himself off. Laughs again, that sharp wrong sound. "I can't even say it. Can't even get the words in the right order. Do you know how long it's been since I couldn't say something?"
My mouth is dry. My pulse is everywhere.
"I want to taste you." Quieter now. Rough. "Everywhere. I want to find out which parts of you are sensitive. I want to spend hours—days—I want to take you apart so slowly you forget you were ever whole."
Heat. My face, my chest, between my legs.
"But I can't." His voice goes hard. "Because you'd let me. And I don't want—"
"Maybe I want it."
He goes still.
"Maybe I want it," I repeat. "Did you consider that? Or did you just decide for me? Because that's what powerful men do, isn't it? Decide what I want, what I should feel, what's best for me—"
"That's not what I'm doing."
