In the car, the only thing I can think about is how his tongue felt against my lips. How he's able to move one side and then the other, and my mind flashes to how it'll feel somewhere else. Why did he do that? To show off?
"We have to talk about something, Athanasius."
"Not Athy?" He chuckles.
Sighing, I pull up to my house, shutting off the car. "I have to go back to work soon. I'm on PTO, this was supposed to be my time to decorate my home and relax, but you popped up."
He raises an eyebrow. "Work? What do you do?"
"I manage internal and external communications for my job." He stares blankly. "I work in office 3 days a week, which means you'll be home alone."
Athanasius grunts, exiting the car. "You work for me, woman, I provide your needs."
"No," Popping the trunk, I begin to grab a few bags. "I work to make money, and pay my mortgage, and buy food."
"Trivial things," He shrugs, following my lead. "I will provide."
As we enter the house, I set the bags on the kitchen counter. "By doing what? Making money appear out of thin air?" I shouldn't have said that.
"Show me what it looks like." He sets his bags down, leaning on the counter. "You know what I can do."
"Where does it come from?" Now I'm curious. "Because it has to come from somewhere, you can't—"
"I can do whatever I want." He waves dismissively. '"I am a Primordial—"
"Beyond your mortal comprehension." We say at the same time which earns me a scowl. For now, I'll drop it. "Well, if you can drop $479,000 in my closet tomorrow morning? I can pay off this house." I chuckle, but I'm also serious.
"Testing me?" He grunts. "I want the meat for dinner, two of them."
"Yes, oh highly exalted one." I shake my head, but he beams with pride.
"You're getting it, and here I thought you were a lost cause."
Athanasius likes his steaks medium rare, cooked in butter, salt, pepper, garlic, and rosemary. He eats said steak like it's his last meal, licking his fingers before dragging his tongue against the plate. Admonishing him does nothing. As I shower for the night, again, he waits naked in bed. His tattoos are always the first thing my eyes catch. The swirling patterns and stark geometric shapes, triangles and circles connected by straight, short lines that make up the language he knows.
I stepped out of the bathroom and paused, towel still in hand, at the sight ofhim—Athanasius the Veil between Worlds, the Withering—propped up against my headboard, wearing my reading glasses, flipping throughHe Tamed Me at Twilight, one ofmyHarlequin romance novels.
“Really? I put that away this morning." I state, placing my towel on a holder behind the door.
He doesn't look up. “Were you trying to hide it? It was underneath a flower decoration, tucked in the back. Naturally, I was compelled.”
Flower decoration? Oh my god, my rose. I'll pretend like I didn't hear that. Groaning, I flop onto the bed, arm dramatically thrown over my face like it can save me from any possible questions he might press about my 'flower decoration.'
“You highlighted passages,” he says, casually, like he isn't holding my dignity hostage. What dignity? I don't care.
“I annotate everything. It’s a literary habit.” I answer.
He turns a page. His voice deepening as he reads. "Her bosom heaved beneath his ravenous gaze… Tell me, Ione. Do bosoms trulyheavelike this, or is it a metaphor?”
I peek at him from under my arm. He's completely serious. And also clearly entertained.
“It's afeeling, okay? Not a literal... physics thing.”
“Hm,” he says thoughtfully, flipping another page. “And this one—‘He would’ve bled the stars dry if it meant one more kiss from her lips.’” He looks at me now, both sets of eyes, black and red stare back at me. “You enjoy this… dramatic male suffering?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, then immediately wince. “I mean—not suffering suffering. I just… I like the way they love in these stories. Big. Messy. All in. The men fall hard anddeep. They’d ruin kingdoms for their women and bring Armageddon just because she demanded it. It’s... hot.”
He raises a brow. “So. This is what you desire?”
