“Wonderfully, I think. I’ve missed you.”
His calm remained as he flashed his top row of teeth.
“Did you do that?”
“I know you have trouble sleeping,” was all he said.
I blinked away the sleep, trying to focus on him between the art and the dark accent wall, to see through the morning light filtering through the wall of windows. He’d healed memore times than one. I supposed that meant he could do other things to my body, like help me sleep, and…
“Hey.” My eyes narrowed. “If you can put me to sleep and knit my wounds, can you also—”
“Yes.” He grinned wickedly, soothing any outlying fears I had about my encounter with the angel. “I could make you cum if I wanted. But I like to earn my orgasms.”
My vision remained in slits. “So goddamn unfair. You can stop my heart with a touch. You can heal me and vanish the dead bodies of criminal intruders and spirit me between realms, and what can I do?”
“Nothing,” he said easily. “Except claw your way to the top of lists, go from poverty to the rich and famous, rally the kingdoms, get the Grecians to expose themselves on television, talk an angel into showcasing his abilities for an audience of humans, get that same angel to forsake all oaths of chastity, win the god-hating Alessia Clovis to our cause, steal my heart, and with it, my kingdom…nothing. You can do nothing.”
I folded myself into him, tucking my head beneath his chin. “You make me feel good about myself.”
“I don’t want to make you feel good about yourself. I want to make you see yourself as you already are. And you, Love, are incredible.”
Insecurity nibbled at me. “I don’t feel like it.”
“No one should make you feel like you’re hard to love,” he said.
I sighed. As much as I wanted to stay in bed with him, his words had reminded me of the larger picture. He released me as I sat up in bed, propping pillows behind me. I tugged the blanket up to create a semblance of modesty. “Okay. There’s an angel in my guest bedroom, and I’m running out of time to plan this showcase of the supernatural with Vexa. The world’s about to change, Caliban. Spilling the tea is one thing, but tea stains. There will be no undoing this once it’s out.”
He looked at me seriously. “Are you considering callingthings off?”
“No.” My eyes widened. “The wheels are already in motion. But there have to be things I’m not considering. What could go wrong?”
His brows bunched.
“I’m really asking,” I pushed.
“You’re only safe for a little while longer. I trust Medusa’s venom. But after the concert, your time is up, and Silas will no longer be under the mercy of the angels’ countdown.”
For the first time in my life, he looked genuinely concerned.
“The moment the powder runs out, I plan to be there. I won’t let Az or Silas leave you alone before then. But even if we do everything right…it could all go wrong, Love. And they aren’t things you can plan for. Not even if you’re invisible. We have no way of knowing how the humans will react. It’s a good plan, but—”
“People can’t kill Silas or Azrames at the Vexa show. Poppy and Dorian will be untouchable after their stunt with the humans.”
He sucked in a lip. “Mortality isn’t the only consequence.”
I looked at him expectantly, desperately wishing I’d had coffee to clear my head before such a serious discussion. The stakes were too high for my bedroom. Twisted sheets, the stain of sex, the lamps, the art, and the windows of a very mortal life crushed in on the discussion.
“For lack of a better term, have you considered the human element?”
It was as if he’d read my mind once more. “Humans…”
“No,” he amended, “that was a bad way to phrase it. I just mean…there are emotions wrapped up in this process on every side. If you want to consider how things could go wrong, maybe you shouldn’t be looking at large-scale outcomes and should start thinking about the individual pawns in the game.”
I rolled the duvet between my thumb and forefinger,watching the fabric bunch and roll. “They aren’t pawns.”
He covered my fidgeting with a large hand, catching my fingers in his own. “I know you aren’t comfortable with thinking of things in those terms. But every game is made up of individual players. And—”
“I’m not Fauna,” I said coldly.
