Page 39 of To Trap a Soul

The human lowered her hands from her face and looked forward. Her gaze darted to the right when she found a trace of his cloud and followed it to where she guessed his head was.

“What?” she quietly snapped.

“Your name. What is it?” he asked again.

Her long lashes lowered as she narrowed her eyes, the emotion in them hot with anger. Her lips twitched as if she’d tightened them.

Her defiance was bothersome, especially as she’d just screamed how he hadn’t cared enough to know it. Her refusal only increased his ire.

“I can keep you trapped here forever, female,” he stated coldly. “There is no escape for you, or from me. Your suffering here is all within your control.”

Her features tightened even further, and he wondered if that was just deepening anger, or perhaps hatred that was beginning to glint in her gaze.

Her tone was sharp, deadly, and more like a snap, as she said, “Lindiwe. Lindiwe Bernadi.”

“There, Lindiwe. I have learned your name.”

Like usual, the little female shuddered at his voice, and he noticed her skin prickle down her neck. It was a fascinating response to see her body shiver in reaction to him, and he did truly wish it wasn’t a negative reaction.

He’d actually like her to find him pleasant.

Then again, I’m not human.Although he sounded just fine to himself, he had no idea how that was perceived by her little round ears.

“You have never said my name,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Not once have you ever called for me.”

She grabbed the bottom seam of her tunic and pressed it down to keep it covering her when it lifted away from her body. “I’ve never needed to call out to you,” she bit. “Are you seriously trying to make me feel guilty because you couldn’t be bothered learning the name of the woman you married?”

“Married? I’ve come to learn what that is, and our bond is not as fragile as your human custom.” Weldir tsked as his mist collected tighter against him. “And no, that was not my intention. Just a causality, that is all. Now, if you have no desire to be in my presence, I will leave you to the solitude you prefer.”

Just as he went to dematerialise and go back to focusing on his tree, she reached a hand out. “W-wait.”

Weldir did as he was asked. Then, since he was often lax and merely a floating being – his body felt no urge to move due to a lack of muscular stimuli – he folded his arms for her benefit. He wished he could have cocked a brow, as the humans did, but he had little control over whatever expressions his face made – currently.

She didn’t say anything, and they did little more than stare at each other. Her expression hardened while she chewed her bottom lip, and he tilted his head to inspect her.

“You do not trust me,” he stated.

She stopped chewing. “I don’t know you.”

“You have never tried to,” he reminded her.

Her gaze averted to the side, and there was something haunted in it. “You’re a being of death.”

“I am not abeingof death; I am afacetof death.”

Lindiwe opened her mouth to say something, but promptly shut it. Then she hugged her midsection and crossed her ankles, still hiding her intimates. “Do you promise it won’t hurt this time?”

Upon realising his head was still tilted, he straightened it. “I have already expressed my lack of desire to hurt you. We can try again later once you have appeased your anger, as I can see it’s still present. I don’t intend to coerce you.”

Her eyelids flickered, and her gaze slipped to him. “Why do you even care? Aren’t most gods self-centred and only care about their own wants?”

“Because I’m not the one who must bear my servants,” he answered, not understanding how that couldn’t have been obvious. “You are the one who must protect them while you carry them.”

Her bottom lip fell as her stare grew stark and wide-eyed. “What are you insinuating?”

“Insinuating? Nothing.” He waved a hand dismissively, doubting she could even see its movement. “I’m merely explaining that, although I wish otherwise, my duty ends after my essence is provided. I would like for you to... care for them in my absence, during their creation, and afterwards. It wouldn’t do to make you hateful of the process.”

Although he didn’t think he’d stated anything of significance, her expression relaxed and lost some of its usual edge. It softened the fire in her eyes and the harsh brow crinkle, and made her look prettier. Or perhaps he only found it more pleasant because he’d aided in its loss of tension and it was an improvement on the way her hateful regard made him feel.

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