Page 46 of Tempt

“I don’t want a certain floral goddess seeing me like that.”

“Because you have a menacing reputation to uphold? Because witnessing your vulnerable side gives me the upper hand? I’m not interested in either, Demon.”

“Yep, it’s inconvenient for my reputation, but that’s not why I’m peeved. I have claws, and you have enough scars. Get my drift, Wildflower?”

Shock lances through her. Deities detect emotions in humans through sensory signals—taste, touch, sight, smell, and sound—but not in each other. Be that as it may, she feels the muslin texture of vulnerability, hears the brass clang of bafflement, and tastes the honeysuckle extract of caring. During his unconscious ravings the previous night, he could have inadvertently flayed her skin or crushed a bone. He could have taken her by surprise and made her bleed.

“My turn,” he says, inclining his chin toward her scarred wrists. “If we’re getting real, then let’s get real: Did those hurt?”

Wonder swallows. If she wants him to open up, she must as well. “Growing up in the Peaks, did you hear rumors about me?”

“If I wasn’t in solitary, I was in the Archives. If I wasn’t in the Archives, I was in solitary. The commute between both kept me busy. Even if it hadn’t, I wasn’t a social butterfly, plus my classmates consisted of rage gods and goddesses—not the cliquey sort who got off on gossip.”

That confirms what she had already concluded. He’s too perceptive for details to elude him, and he’s been badgering her about the scars since they first locked horns in the Celestial City. With a few scraps of hearsay, he could have drawn the right conclusion. Stars be praised, those facts have never reached his ears.

Wonder swings upward, sits upright on her own branch, and matches his position. A breeze cuts through the woodland and perfumes the land with the ghosts of absent lupines, sucking her into the memory of a western prairie.

“Growing up, I disobeyed the Fate Court and paid the penalty,” she says.

Malice peers at her. “Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“The dipshit you sacrificed your hands for? The one who inspired this disobedience?”

“He was sweet.” After a moment’s hesitation, Wonder drifts, conjuring that ruddy, mud-streaked face. “He was as bright as the sun over a countryside, and he blushed like a rose, and he loved animals.”

“Can’t say I ever met a god like that.” Her companion sniffs, dragging her from the vision. “So that’s your type? A vestal pile of sainthood?”

“Better than a diabolical pain in the ass.”

“Pain is underrated, especially in the pelvic region.”

“Come any closer, and my boot will prove your testicles wrong.”

“What sort ofcomingare you referring to? The technical or the carnal?”

Wonder bursts into a scandalized guffaw, and Malice cants his chin, looking suddenly grim as he listens to the sound. “You cannot help yourself, can you?” she chortles.

“Speaking of which…” He indicates the scars. “Was he worth it?”

Her laughter dies, and her mouth stays unhinged, bereft of an answer.Yesis too weak, andNois too aloof.

Malice waves off her silence. “Don’t answer. Replying to questions is boring.”

“I guess that makes us even,” she remarks, considering he hasn’t said whether his screams hurt. “You’re going to pursue the legend, aren’t you? Is that why you’re here? To cure the nightmares?”

“Ahh, well. Nightmares are so ghastly, so tenacious, so nightly.”

“Answer me, Malice.”

“But you know the answer.”

She does. The density in his voice says it all.

In the dappled illumination, Malice leans forward. “We should do this more often.” An eager gleam brightens his face. “Maybe during our next talk, you’ll tell me the other half of this legend. You know, the part that has to do with you.”

Wonder blinks, about to deny it. But really, she should have anticipated this, so what’s the point? Of course, Malice would figure it out.

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