Page 49 of Tempt

Her body seizes, her blood running a swift course for that intimate spot, so close to him. But his words are a bluff. The reality is, his length isn’t fully amorous, not wholly aroused. However, its size gives the illusion of being erect.

If his actions were genuine, Wonder would shatter, perhaps grind atop Malice and bask in his hiss. But that’s not an option. He’s just using another crude tactic to prevent her from doing or saying something that he doesn’t like.

What is it about her reaction to his voice that offends him?

Thankfully, her tone remains steady. “You’re trying to scare me off.”

He steals a chrysanthemum petal from her ponytail. His tongue swabs the bloom into his mouth, where she imagines it dissolving inside him. “Is it working?”

She beams, a bright and badass expression that provides the answer.

Not on your life.

Malice’s lashes flap with uncertainty—and then wrath as she bounds from his embrace and shoves him off the branch. “Hey!” he snarls, tumbling sideways onto a lower bough, his body hooking over it and sparing him from a crash landing.

While he curses and glowers at her, Wonder blithely hops to the grass and struts off, concealing a grin. Another round in her favor.

***

At midnight, the sky darkens to violet. She wrestles with the linens, her calves tangled in the sheets as they abrade her skin. Something this soft shouldn’t be this rough.

Her nightgown straps cut into her shoulders, and her breasts crush against the satin, and it all feels wrong—no better than a restraint.

It begins to rain, droplets pattering against the window, the rhythm jabbing at her consciousness. Usually, this weather lulls her into slumber.

To the contrary, the room’s airflow thickens. For the millionth time, is this what heat feels like? Is this a hint? The dynamics of temperature had been a mystery until Andrew joined their band of rebels. At which point, Wonder had picked the former mortal’s brain about the intensities of heat and cold.

Sometimes, she’s on the brink of understanding. From what she’s been told, heat is the congestion of oxygen, a buildup of one’s blood and pulse—such as that which exists between her legs.

And in between Malice’s legs. She knows this now, too.

In the forest, that brazen airflow had swirled from his center to hers. Damn that incident for depriving her of dreams.

It’s not merely that. Two unnerving thoughts stomp through her mind.

First, it’s one thing to know the boy he used to be, but it’s another to talk with the boy he’s become. Which person does she identify with better? Which one is more real to her?

Which one knows her?

That last puzzle piece isn’t really a question. Not if she cares to admit it.

Second, and most profound, is this: She’d had fun today.

She’d had too much brawling, bantering fun. It’s baffling, but whereas her classmates know the grander parts of her life, she had told Malice about the smaller facets, which are somehow as pivotal. Perhaps more so.

Her favorites. Her bookish escapades. Her resentment and gratitude toward magic and archery. Even some of her childhood had trickled out, along with memories of Harmony, her Guide.

Oddly, Wonder could have kept going. And oddly, he’d absorbed everything with an interest void of artifice or agenda.

Wonder shoots upright. Ugh, her archery!

She’d forgotten the longbow and quiver in the woods. If Malice were a gentleman or considerate god, he’d have brought the weapons to her upon his return indoors. But after pushing him out of their nest a few hours ago…well, she hasn’t seen him since then.

The weapons might still be out there like so much evidence. If another deity breaks worship curfew and decides to take a midnight stroll…

It’s unlikely at this juncture and in the midst of a tempest, but she cannot afford to be lazy.

Wonder flings back the covers. An inconvenient jaunt later, she’s drenched.

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