Page 5 of Tempt

He stops chewing. His mouth falls, flattening to a plank.

Flippantly, he tosses the pomegranate into the bowl as if bored by the conversation, the discarded fruit causing the tray to quiver. Reclining in the chair, he switches tactic, brandishing the book cover at her. His current selection is about the myth of Hades and Persephone. “Pomegranates that resemble your cheeks and taste of deceitful shenanigans. Rather symbolic, so I’d bet you knew what I was reading. How thoughtful. But hmm, how did you guess?”

Andrew needs to stop giving Malice the wrong books. Captive or not, the misfit appeals to Andrew’s bookish side, which Wonder can’t blame since she has this fetish in common with both of them. But something tells her that Malice had specifically requested this title, which can only mean trouble, the likes of which she cannot discern from his selection.

As to his assumption, no. She hadn’t known he was reading about that particular myth, because she hadn’t been paying attention to his book stash while venturing here last night.

“Have you ever tippy-toed through the library’s romance section?” Malice inquires. “This classic tale has merit, but there are some amusingly pretentious mortal retellings of the myth. Christ, it’s always about the self-aware, wiser-than-her-age maiden taming her dumbass-but-muscular abductor. The bad boy versus the good girl.” He widens his eyes. “Who’ll win the battle? Will they fuck before or after the climax?”

Only one word stands out in his diatribe, and it’s the last one that she wants to concentrate on. But when he says that lewd word, flicking it out like a vice, she has a yen to catch it. Therefore, it takes her thighs a second to recover.

Wonder would ask where he’s going with this recitation, but one can never guess in which direction his cranium is pointing. It might be random, or it might be very intentional.

“Have you read this myth?” he asks.

“We’re not doing this again, dearest,” she affirms.

“That means no. I gotta say, that’s irresponsible of a deity, even if the human version of Greek mythology is inaccurate. I would have thought—”

“I’ve read it, Demon.”

“Which interpretation, Wildflower? Any risky modernizations or hybrids? Or are you a traditionalist who sticks to what you know?”

There’s an obsessive, harassing lilt to his commentary, badgering her to indulge him. And it’s not going to work.

Anger and Love get riled up too easily. Envy doesn’t care to face off with someone as good-looking as himself. Sorrow gets depressed by this cavern. And Merry and Andrew chatter too much to accomplish quick visits.

Wonder is the only candidate equipped to play Malice’s warden, which isn’t saying much. A spike of erudite rivalry curls up her throat like a weed, but she refuses to get dragged into another book-a-thon. It’s not entertaining or stimulating in the least. Not at all.

Not. At. All.

They stare at one another. Wonder does her utmost to remain taciturn, cementing her features into a mask. For all intents and purposes, he does the same with her, which is better than him throwing another colossal fit when things don’t go his way.

At least he’s blissfully unaware of last night, ignorant of his spastic grunts and her visit. That’s one less thing to fret about.

So, there. He doesn’t know everything. Let him spend eternity trying.

On that score, she’s got her own buttons to push. “Your envelopes,” Wonder demands. “The letters inside. What’s written on them?”

His leer vanishes, a snarl building in his mouth, which is probably the only thing left that fits inside it. Out of nowhere, he raises the envelope that she’d placed in his hand last night, the paper poised between his claws. “You mean, letters like this one?”

Checkmate. Her stomach swoops, a tremor sprints across her skin, and her cheeks stain.

He knows that she was down here, tampering with things that don’t belong to her.

Had he been awake? Had he felt her take liberties? Had he endured her petting his hair?

What else does he know? Does he know how much he resembles someone else? Someone important to her? Someone she has lost?

Does he know what loss is?

“I…,” she falters.

“You,” he echoes between his teeth. “Yeah, you. I’ve got so many ideas about you. How I can pay you back. How I can leap out of this chair right now and demonstrate what I think of you touching what isn’t yours. How you don’t even see that one of your arrows is tipped toward me, ready for stealing, and how I’m thinking of the best place to use it on you.”

Wonder resists reaching for the arrow, to nudge it out of range. If he indeed gets up and tries something hostile, she’ll block his effort.

But that would be too simple for either of them. Because when Malice rages with words, it’s got a sharper edge than physical retribution.

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