I slammed the blade down into the ground. It sliced through the thick carpet and buried itself in the mortar between the bricks.
How did he know?
“You are welcome to join me. I’d enjoy stabbing you,” I snarled. I knew I was no better than an animal. I was a second from shifting. Maybe then he would leave me alone.
He only smiled. “I prefer to do battle with words.”
“Coward.”
He ignored the barb. The Dark God himself could not be insulted by puny half-immortals. Except he was not the Dark God to me, not anymore. At least, not only the Dark God. He circled the hearth and lowered himself to sit. He propped his ankle across his knee, reclining easily in the wingback chair that had been my bed for nearly a month.
Elbow to chair arm, chin in palm. He tapped a finger against his lower lip. “If this is what making peace with your crimes looks like, I am thankful I’ve never been forced to such reckoning,” Syleris said.
“You do not have to torture us both. You and I do not have a bargain.” I ripped the sword from the ground.
Itriedto rip the sword from the ground.
And again.
It didn’t move. Not a single damn inch.
“Would you like help, halfling?” Syleris purred.
“Stop.”
“A god can do what a man cannot.”
“Just stop!” I yelled. The sword came away in my hand. I did not stumble. I was too fast for that. I caught myself. I stood in the center of the room that had been mine since childhood, my chest heaving up and down, shoulders shaking with rage. Most of it was directed at myself.
Syleris put both of his feet firmly back on the ground. He stood. Stepped closer to me. Every movement was graceful, his beauty deeper than his physical appearance. His scent was like mountain air, fresh, but deceptively dangerous. It would be too easy to lose myself in him.
Another step closer.
I was shaking. But his movements were steady. He reached up and cupped my chin. He dragged his thumb over the stubble on my cheek. I tried to turn away, but he held me in place, his grip soft but solid. His message was clear. I was not going anywhere until he allowed it.
“You do not have power over me,” I said, even as my heart rate increased. If I had not been half-fae, I was almost certain the rapid pace would have killed me.
“Only what you give me willingly,” he said, leaning in closer. I knew what was coming. I could have jerked away. I should have.
Syleris brushed his lips over mine with more gentleness than the god of death and darkness should have had in his possession. The second kiss had more pressure, but it was an invitation, not a demand. An offer of comfort, in contrast with the sharpness of his words. I did not deserve that tenderness. But I took it anyway.
I forgot to hold on to the sword, because I needed to hold on to him. His arms were solid enough to keep me in place. Not asthick as mine, but unyielding. It was the perfect word for him. He did not give an inch, and somehow, I was still grateful.
I dipped my tongue into his mouth, desperate to know if his taste matched his scent. It was better. Different than Koryn, or any lover who had come before. But perfect in his own right.
His tongue was just as long and skillful as his fingers. He curled it around mine with an almost serpentine dexterity. He was not human, and he’d never pretended to be. This man was a god, and he was not afraid to be every inch of what he was.
I pulled him in against me until our chests were pressed together. I was soaked with sweat. It took only a minute before he was, too. Could he have prevented it? Kept himself dry? Apart? Probably. He was a god. He had never disclosed the length and breadth of his powers to me. But when I moved my hand between us and spread my fingers across his chest, he was soaked with my sweat, too. In that minute, I felt a thousand colliding emotions.
Need coiled in the pit of my stomach. Sex was an easy form of escape. I’d seen him give it to Koryn, and I wanted it for myself. I wanted to lose myself in him. He was steady and hard while I careened sideways. Koryn had let me back in, but she kept an intentional distance between us. With Syleris, there was no past to hang between us.
No past that belonged to us alone.
Betrayal. It was a betrayal to Alair in a way that loving Koryn never had been. She was a woman. She could not be taken by the ancient darkness that had infected my first love. Dark God’s hell, maybe Syleris could not either. He was a god. But he was still a man, and feeling anything for him felt like I was forgetting the one I’d loved before.
I broke the kiss, rocking away. But Syleris kept his hand where it had slid to the nape of my neck, threaded through my hair.
“Deep breath,” he instructed.
