He frowns. “You really didn’t speak?”
I snatch Rhonin’s jacket from my shoulders and launch it at Neri’s handsome face. “No. I didn’t. Now stop using whatever godly mind-snooping power you possess to tease me and put some fucking clothes on.”
He catches the garment in one hand, and though I expect him to laugh, he stares at me, perplexed. “I have no such power, and I’m not teasing.”
His voice holds no hint of playfulness. No tint of amusement either.
A thick knot forms in my throat. He cannot hear my thoughts. That would be—
“Impossible,” he finishes. “Unless something you did forged a connection between us.”
I face him fully then, my lungs working harder, the pulse in my head throbbing. “I didn’t do anything but perform the necessary rite, so don’t you dare attempt to fool me. Raina told me you read her mind.”
He cocks his head as if a thought just struck him, drops the coat, and stalks toward me, those long and powerful legs carrying him across the short distance between us far too quickly. In those brief seconds, even though he wears the body of a human, he seems more wolf than god but also more animal than man, ever the graceful predator.
A brutal chill crawls up the back of my neck as he stops inches away and curves over me, enveloping me in his scent of winter air, smoked birch, and… vetiver. Unafraid, I tilt my head back and challenge his stare.
“You have much to learn,” he says. “For one, I am not the god who toys with minds. Secondly, I can hear the thoughts of anyone who summons me, and you just performed the greatest summons of all by calling me back from the dead. You had a choice. You could’ve left my soul to wander this world until I found someone else to carry out the task of resurrection. But you didn’t.” A wicked smirk curls the corner of his mouth. “It appears such magick really does have consequences. The witch’s secret observations are now whispers to the wolf’s ears.” He winks one golden-brown eye. “You might be careful what thoughts you conjure, Miss Bloodgood. I just might make them come true.”
Panic roils like a miniature sun inside my chest, filling me with heat. My mind races, but I try to lock it down before he reads me again. There are wards to protect the mind, like those Alexus built around Raina’s mind to protect her from the prince. They’re not my greatest talent.
Still, I put forth my best effort to erect a mental construct anyway, a barrier between our minds. I don’t know if it will work, but—
The wolf grins wide, and I note that even his fangs are gone, leaving him with a smile that could obliterate any resistance in its path. Except for mine. I refuse to let this beast of a god affect me ever again.
“You like me,” he accuses.
“Oh, stars. I do not. I loathe you. If a blade were any danger, I would’ve plunged one into your heart days ago. It’s tempting even still.” I flip back the skirt of my dress at the slit, revealing my dagger.
Neri waggles his brows at the slip of skin, then taps my nose, making me recoil. “Little liar. You find me lovely. Especially naked.”
I scrub my face to rid my skin of his suddenly very real touch. “You are truly delusional. Lovely is the last word I associate with you. Annoying. Arrogant. Asinine. Those are words I think of when you pop into my mind.”
He winks. “Which is often. And will be even more often now, I wager.”
I rest my hand on the hilt of my dagger as a flush burns up my throat. “Only because I so often dream of murdering you.”
He crosses his enormous arms over his chest, still wearing that irksome smile. “Take down those walls around your mind, then. If you find me so repulsive, what is there to hide?”
It takes a second to grasp, but what he just said means the construct is working.
“Sort of,” he says with a quick tilt of his head. “I can still hear bits and pieces. Enough to string together a cohesive thought.”
Again, I clamp down my racing mind and work to fortify the barrier around my subconscious. When the holes are boarded up, I step closer to the God of the North and stiffen my spine. “Stay out of my head, wolf, or I’ll do just as Helena Owyn said. This agreement we have can be civil, or it can be vile. Pick your battles wisely.” I look him over with a measuring glance and make an unimpressed, unfazed face, even though I’m anything but. “Now, take me back to the palace. After that, you know what to do.”
In truth, I’m uncertain of the parameters of our deal, how to navigate having power over a god. I figure a command is a command.
“So demanding,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “If only you knew what that does to me.”
“You want me to make demands? I can make demands.” I trail my fingertip down the center of his chest, noticing the way his nipples harden instantly, all the while sensing his stiffening cock brushing against my thigh. I suffocate the desire to glance down at him, focusing on how odd it is to feel true warmth in his skin and the gentle pounding of his heart. Determined to exert some form of control here, I let any softness on my face fall into hard lines. “Get dressed. Now. And hurry the fuck up. How’s that for a demand?”
With a huff of a laugh, the wolf turns toward his memoriam tree and is instantly dressed in a complete ensemble: dark gray britches, a cream-colored linen tunic, a dark plum overcoat, and tall black boots. His hair is half-tied back as well, and when he looks to the side, I catch the glint of a small silver-hoop earring, cupping his left earlobe. But my attention settles on the odd-looking sword that hangs across his back. The pommel is shaped like a wolf’s head, and the metal shines like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’ve heard that the gods’ weapons were forged from a specific ore found deep within the earth, an ore called galatine, free from iron and stronger than any steel.
Neri vanishes behind the tree before I can gather any further details and soon returns with his pendant in hand, any sign of mud or earth now gone from the filigree setting around the stone and chain. “This is yours,” he says. “It’s part of the deal. This remnant links us. So when we’re apart, all you must do is touch this piece of my heart, call out to me, and I will come.”
He holds his hand up between us and spins his finger, signaling me to turn around. I hate that I do it so swiftly.
He lifts the pendant over my head, and I hold my hair up while he fastens the clasp. I tell myself that the brush of his fingertips at the edge of my hairline is accidental. I also tell myself that I don’t like the way his touch feels.
