Remember why you came here. Don’t blow your cover. Don’t let them know you’re aware of their plans.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out with a shaky sigh, hoping to feel more composed when I opened them. When I peeled my eyes open, he was rooted to the spot, a contorted expression on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, my words trembling.
Throughout my outburst, I was never worried he’d physically hurt me if I pushed him too far, which was unsettling. He was a god. Ishouldbe afraid. I should be more cautious about what I do and be more careful with what I say.
The God of Love nodded. “May I?” He pointed at my palms, a wary look on his face as he placed the book on one of the shelves.
Instead of offering a reply, I extended my arms toward him, the heels of my hands facing the wooden ground. He examined them with a quick look, noticing the thin trails of blood smeared across my palms.
“Is this a normal occurrence?”
I shook my head. “Only when a god pisses me off.”
He let out a low chuckle, pressing his palms against mine like a caress. I’ve never felt skin so soft before. When he took them away, my wounds were gone.
“There. Allow me to clean the bloodstains, and then you can rest.”
Without protesting, I followed him into the bathroom. I debated asking why he didn’t use his magic instead, but I held my tongue and let him do it.
He turned the faucet on, placing my palms underneath the jet of the water before he dragged a cloth over my skin, erasingany evidence of the blood. His brows were drawn together, and his movements were gentle, almost a caress.
When he was done, I moved to grab a towel to dry myself, but he was faster than me, enveloping my palms in the soft material and dabbing until they were no longer wet.
“Would you consider staying overnight? Given the late hour, it would be better to rest instead of traveling. You’ll be thankful for this later.”
A faint smile graced my lips as I silently nodded, pretending as if the offer was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Chapter 15
Charisma
“Imust inform you that you’ll be sleeping in my bed as I don’t have any other in the mansion. I hope this will not be an inconvenience for you,” the God of Love declared as he led me down the hallway.
My lips pursed together. I had to admit that it was nothing but sheer, dumb luck that his house held no other accommodations. If he had put me in a different bedroom, I wouldn’t have known how to find my way to his bed and then I would’ve failed the Shadow’s task.
What did I expect anyway? He was the God of Love—getting into his bed wasn’t supposed to be difficult.
I bit back the relieved sigh that almost escaped my lips at the way things had unfolded. However, as a newcomer to the gods’ world, I knew I had to act somewhat perturbed about spending the night with a stranger, a man who was part of a category of people I hated.
I forced a frown. “It’s strange that in a house so big you only have one bed.”
His shoulder blades rolled back when he stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, his palm curledaround the doorknob. “What is the reason for having another bed, considering that my guests will be using mine?” He winked playfully before walking inside the room, waiting for me to follow.
Ah.Guests,as in partners. I assumed the God of Love lacked friends as much as I did if his sole visitors were pleasure companions.
As quiet as a cat, I stepped inside, my eyes carefully gliding over his chamber. His enormous bed was a welcome sight, and I almost let out a breath of relief, feeling grateful for his privileges for the first time. The mattress was large, easily accommodating for four people, with enough room to roll around all night with no worry about touching.
Of course, the bedsheets, nightstands, and carpet at the foot of the bed were all a deep red, setting a royal tone to the room.
I was baffled that a space crammed with books scattered on the bedside table, floor, and desk, alongside candles, papyri, pens, and clothes, could appear so orderly.
Back at home, my room always looked as if a tornado had passed through—clothes, though not many, were either spread on the floor or on the wooden chair. If something was lost, I knew I could find it under the bed, where a pile of random things laid. I hated the mess: it cluttered my thoughts. But no matter how many times a week I forced myself to clean, in less than a day, the room would look as if it had never been organized. After a while, I gave up trying to maintain it.
Before me, an immense glass wall was adorned with the soft, flickering light of white candles lined up along the ground—the only source of light besides the moon. A gentle warmth radiated from the flames, mingling with the cool night air. The rhythmic crackle of the candles filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional sigh of the wind.
“Come,” the God of Love said, encouraging me and pointing a palm toward the windows that lead up to a terrace.
