“I guess I did.” He dipped his head, and I wondered exactly how much of my features he could see now. A shivery awareness danced over my skin. I wondered if he would— “To be honest, I find myself quite annoyed with that decision. If I had allowed you to continue on your merry way, it would’ve most certainly ended with your death, but I would’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Like I said, I guess I’m lucky.”
“And as I said before,” he replied, his idle touch of the desk replaced by a tight grip, one that bleached his knuckles white. I unfolded my arms, senses alert as my pulse ticked up. “Are you really?”
The same reaction swept through me. I stiffened as the keen awareness vanished. A long gap of silence reigned, wherein he lifted a hand and lowered his hood. When his face had been hidden, I’d felt the intensity of his stare. Now, I saw it.
“I know you’re curious about why those gods did what they did, but when you walk from this house, you need to leave this alone. It doesn’t involve you.”
His demand dug into every wrong cord inside me. What little control I had over my life, I owned. Tension crept into my neck as I held his stare. “Only I get to determine what does and doesn’t involve me. What I do and do not do is of no concern to anyone. Not even a god.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asked in that same too-soft voice, the kind that stretched my nerves.
“Yes.” Slowly, I inched my hand toward my dagger. He’d shown no ill will toward me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“You’d be wrong.”
My fingers brushed the hilt of my dagger. “Maybe I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have no say about what I do.”
“You’d also be wrong about that,” he replied.
I was totally wrong. In reality, no one superseded a god. Not even Royalty. The authority of mortal Crowns was more for show than anything else. The true power lay with the Primals and their gods. And all Primals, all gods, answered to the King of Gods. The Primal of Life.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it, nor the predatory way he looked at me. “If you’re trying to intimidate or scare me into obeying you, you can stop. It’s not working. I don’t scare.”
“You should be afraid of many things.”
“I’m afraid of nothing, and that includes you.”
In one heartbeat, he was standing several feet from me. In the next, he towered over me, and his fingers were curled around my chin. The shock of how fast he’d moved paled in comparison to the jolt of static that followed and erupted across my skin at the contact of his hand. It was stronger. Sharper now.
His flesh was so very cold as he tilted back my head. He didn’t dig his fingers in, nor was his hold tight. It was just…there, cold and yet burning like an icy brand.
“How about now?” he asked. “Are you afraid?”
Though his grip wasn’t firm, I found it difficult to swallow as my heart fluttered like a trapped bird. “No,” I forced out. “Just mostly annoyed.”
A beat of silence passed, and then, “You lie.”
I did. Kind of. A god had his hand on me. How could I not be afraid? But strangely and inexplicably, I wasn’t terrified. Maybe it was the anger. Perhaps it was the shock of what I had seen tonight, the unnerving feel of his touch, or the fact that if he wanted to harm me, he would’ve done it by now a dozen times over. Maybe it was the part of me that didn’t care about consequences.
“A little,” I admitted and then moved. Fast. Unsheathing the dagger, I brought it to his throat. “Are you afraid?”
Only his eyes moved, flicking to the hilt of the dagger. “Shadowstone? Unique weapon for a mortal to have. How did you come upon such a weapon?”
It wasn’t like I could tell the truth. That it had been located by an ancestor who’d gain the knowledge of what a shadowstone dagger could do to a god and even a Primal once weakened. So, I lied. “It belonged to my stepbrother.”
The god arched a dark brow.
“I sort of borrowed it.”
“Borrowed it?”
“For the last couple of years,” I added.
“Sounds like you stole it.”
I said nothing.
He stared down at me. “Do you know why such a dagger is rare in the mortal realm?”
“I do,” I admitted, even though I knew it would’ve been wiser to pretend ignorance. But the need to show him that I wasn’t a helpless mortal who could be bullied was far stronger than wisdom.
“So, you know that the stone is quite toxic to a mortal’s flesh?” he said, and of course I knew that. If it came into contact with a mortal’s blood, it would slowly kill them even if the wound didn’t get them. “And do you know what will happen if you attempt to use that blade against me?”
“Do you?” I stated, heart thumping. The incandescent white glow pulsed behind his pupils and seeped into the silver in wispy, radiant tendrils. It reminded me of how the eather had spilled and spit into the air around the Primal of Death.
“I do. I bet you do also. But you’d still try.” His gaze flicked down to where I had the dagger pressed against his skin. “Is it strange that knowing that makes me think of how your tongue felt in my mouth?”
My entire body flashed hot even as I frowned. “Yes, a little—”
The god moved so quickly, I couldn’t even track his movements. He gripped my wrist and twisted, spinning me around. Within a heartbeat, he had the dagger pinned to my stomach. His other hand hadn’t even moved from my throat.
“That was unfair,” I gasped.
“And you, liessa, are very brave.” His thumb moved, sweeping over the curve of my jaw. “But, sometimes, one can be too brave.” The dusky silkiness of his words wrapped around me. “To the point it borders on foolishness. And you know what I’ve found about the foolishly brave? There’s a reason they often rush to greet death instead of having the wisdom to run from it. What is your reason?” he asked. “What drowns out that fear and pushes you to run so eagerly toward death?”
His question threw me. Sent my pulse racing. Was that what I was doing? Rushing eagerly toward death? I almost wanted to laugh, but I thought about that not-so-hidden part of me that…just didn’t care. That overrode restraint and sound judgement. “I…I don’t know.”
“No?” The word rippled from him.
“When I get nervous, I ramble. And when I feel threatened or am told what to do, I get angry,” I whispered. “I’ve been told on more than one occasion that my mouth would get me into trouble one day and that I should take heed.”
“I see you took that advice to heart,” he replied. “Always meeting a threat with anger isn’t the wisest of choices.”
“Like now?”
The god said nothing as he continued holding me against his chest, his thumb slowly sweeping back and forth, back and forth. With his strength, he wouldn’t even need to use the eather. All it would take would be a sharp twist of his wrist.
It was then that I realized I might have come to the end of whatever goodwill this god had regarding me.
My mouth dried, and the dread of what was sure to come settled heavily in my chest. I was teetering on the edge of death. “You might as well get on with it.”
“Get on with what, exactly?”
“Killing me,” I said, the words like wool on my tongue.
His head lowered a bit. When he next spoke, his breath coasted over my cheek. “Killing you?”