Page 89 of Tempt

She grins fondly, sadly, because she knows what he’s doing. “You meant it.”

“Meant what? What do you care?”

“I do ca—”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

His drawl points right to the past—to Quill, not to him. Is his assumption correct? If the goddess had requested an answer from Wonder instead of Malice, what would she have said? Yes or no?

Loving Quill isn’t the same as craving him.

Craving Malice isn’t the same as loving him.

So which is it? Which incarnation?

Pain creases Malice’s visage, either from her refrain or his injury. His neck bobs as he swerves away, giving her his profile. “I guess sharing you with my ghost is okay.”

“Malice—”

“I mean, far be it from me to deny a voluptuous goddess her ménage à trois. It’ll be like doing the nasty with twins,” he improvises. “Or we can split our schedules. You can have me on the weekends, and then you can live it up with my deceased doppelgänger during the week. Of course, touching him will be a problem.”

“Malice—”

“Fucking him, an even bigger problem, in addition to the reek. I’ve heard corpses smell funky, and who knows what condition my former cock is in. But huh, maybe we’ll find a legend to rectify that, something that resurrects dead bodies and repairs erectile decay. Or we can try a seance.”

“Malice—”

“Unless you want to go really crazy and add former lovers to the mix. I’m sure Merry won’t mind if Anger answers your siren call. What’s a little reverse harem between friends?”

“Malice!”

“Wonder?”

She gasps at shape of her name on his lips. Despite his artless eyes and sarcastic tone, he’s only acknowledged her thusly once before. How she longs to hear that sound again, and again, and again.

And just like that, Wonder knows. She’s been misinterpreting her heart for two centuries, all because she comes from a world that doesn’t know better, has grown up with people who have never identified with it, much less valued it. Even while witnessing the bonds between her friends, Wonder hadn’t learned.

She understands now. There had been affection, admiration, and atonement on her part.

But it hadn’t been the grandest of emotions, after all. Not back then.

She smiles at Malice. “I love you.”

All signs of mockery drop from Malice’s face. His features crumble, and his brows knit.

Is the declaration too much for him?

“I’m sorry,” she rushes out. “I thought…in my room, you asked me…I thought you wanted to know.”

Because he makes no reply, she begins to twist her head away, until his voice reaches her. “Say it again,” he murmurs.

The plea is faint but haggard. Wonder’s pulse stutters as she traces the contours of him, all the shadows and highlights. All of him.

She says it again. “I love you, Malice.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

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