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God of Wrath

Page 11

by Aria Cole

Not a scratch.

Not even a scar.

“Well,” I whisper. “That’s new.”

“Better?”

I look up at him.

“Did you just heal me?”

“Yes.”

“With your hands?”

He glances at them. “Would you have preferred my feet?”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Then point an accusing finger at his chest.

“Okay. You’re either a very convincing hallucination, an escaped lunatic with excellent special effects, or I’m having some kind of medical emergency.”

“None of those.”

“That’s exactly what a hallucination would say.”

His lips curve.

“You’re amusing.”

“And you’re naked. Which brings me to my next problem.”

His gaze follows mine downward.

I immediately look at the sky.

Terrible idea.

Because now I have an extremely detailed mental image of the divine equipment I’ve just been staring at.

“You can’t just walk around naked,” I inform him.

“Why?”

“Because people will stare.”

“Let them.”

“At your…everything?”

His gaze drops.

“Does it displease you?”

“That’s definitely not the problem.”