He gives my hand a squeeze. "I find it difficult to believe that anyone that helped to create you is horrible. You are so charming and fierce."
Charming? I'm thinking he's blinded by sex, but the compliment makes me smile. I lean against his shoulder. "My dad was a junkie." I realize a moment later he probably doesn't know what that means, so I go on. "My father always had issues. When he met my mom, he was addicted to cigarettes and weed. Said he had anger problems and they helped him chill. My mom is sweet and somewhat gullible, so she looked the other way when he used."
"Gullible like believing in crystals and cards?" Kassam asks.
"I would have agreed with that statement a week ago, but given the fact that the only reason I'm not crawling all over your dick right now is because I'm dripping in quartz? I'm not laughing anymore." When he grunts acceptance, I continue. "My mom views the world with rose-colored glasses, though. She likes to believe the best in everyone. She figures if she does the right thing and someone lies to her, the shame is on them, not her. That good intentions trump everything. I think it's one reason why she didn't kick my dad out when she found out he was using harder stuff. He always promised to do better, and she believed him."
"Harder stuff?"
"Crack. Meth. Heroin. LSD. Pills. Anything my dad could get his hands on to try out, he'd do it. He'd smoke up. He'd toke. He'd inject. He'd snort. Whatever made him space out and made him high. I think he was just miserable and constantly looking to escape. He didn't want to be a responsible, working man, and he didn't want to be married with a young child, either. So he'd constantly get drunk, get lit, whatever he could do to alter his brain. And then he'd usually hit my mom." My mouth clenches in memory of that. "He never hit me. My mom always protected me. But when he was on something—which was all the time after a while—he was mean and nasty. He said awful things to me. If I drew something, he mocked it. If I played a sport, he'd tell me I was the worst kid out there. It got to the point that I was afraid to do anything because I'd hear my father's comments in my head."
"Mmm. So it is safer for you to give up than to try things." His gaze goes to an unfinished scarf hanging out of the bottom dresser drawer, knitting needles still in it.
"Bingo."
"And this is why you did not like it when they offered me drugs at the bar."
I nod. "Funny enough, alcohol doesn't bother me. I guess because when Dad drank, he just fell asleep. But the moment I smell weed or see someone shooting up, I get upset." My stomach clenches at the thought. "So yeah. You can drink what you like, but the moment you snort something, you're dead to me." I glance up at him. "It's another rule I think I'm going to enforce, as your wife. Sorry."
He grins down at me, his thumb caressing my hand. "I do not seek the pleasures because of the pleasures themselves. I simply chase hedonism because it is my curse. As long as I have you to sate my urges, I need nothing else."
"Not even butter?" I tease, feeling a little better. Talking about this helps a little. Not much, but a little.
Kassam shakes his head. "Just you."
I absorb his words, basking in the unspoken compliment. I know he's using me, but it's nice to hear that I'm appreciated, even if it's just for my willingness to have sex. The fact that he lets me put conditions on our relationship—knowing that he's a god—makes me feel valued as a partner. It makes me feel like my opinion matters, like I matter, and after the last few days, it feels more precious than gold. I pat his hand, still entwined with mine. "Thanks, Kassam. I know I'm being silly."
"You are not being silly. I have met many, many mortals and experienced many silly situations, and this is not one. You are putting your trust in me and yet your fear is not for yourself, but for your parent."
"I'm just afraid of leaving her alone," I say again, biting my lip. "At least I have you to look out for me. She won't have anyone."
"Lachesis visited her in a dream, yes? The goddess will watch out for her."
Which reminds me. "Are we sure Lachesis wasn't showing up just to lie to my mom and make her feel better about me going with you?"
Kassam snorts at that. "Why would she feel the need to lie? Your mother is a mortal. She is nothing to the goddess."
"An excellent point, and ouch, dude. Just ouch." I guess there's nothing more to do than to hope for the best. I look over at Kassam, at his utterly calm face. He's not worried about tonight in the slightest. In his eyes, I am completely safe despite the fact we're teaming up with a trickster god to switch worlds. It seems like a big deal to me, but what do I know? I'm just mortal. I have to have faith that Kassam (and Seth) know what they're up to. "Just promise me that you're telling the truth, Kassam?"
His brows furrow. "Truth about what?"
"All of this." I release his hand and get up to start packing more shit into my bag, because that at least helps me feel somewhat in control of an increasingly bizarre situation. I shove my hairbrush into a tight corner of the bag, shrugging as I do. "I just need to know that you're not lying to me. That you really are going to protect me. That I'm not going over to your world just to get axed. That Lachesis is going to look out for Mom. That you and I are"—I break off, because I'm not sure what answer I want to hear from him. It's not love. It's not devotion—"committed," I finally manage. "That you and I are a team. I need to know this is the truth."
Kassam leans back on the bed, watching me try to shove a belt into my bag, next to the hairbrush. A belt just seems like something pretty handy to have in a medieval world, and I want to bring it. He regards me for a few, and when I pause to look over at him, he shrugs. "I'm not sure what answer you wish from me, Carly."
Well that makes me nervous. "How about a 'Yes, you can a hundred percent trust me, Carly. Pinky swear.'"
But Kassam doesn't raise his pinky to meet mine. He only gazes up at me thoughtfully. "I will never betray you. I gave you my vow, and I meant it. I cannot control others, though. If Seth means to betray, he will betray us both. But if you are asking if I am using you, the answer is both yes and no. I do not deny that I have used people in the past. Every god does. I have used every anchor I have had in the past, just as I am using you now for my needs. I have ensnared others to do my bidding. Ask the conmac, who do my bidding on this plane because I demanded it, when they would rather run free. I told them they were needed to serve me through the Anticipation. That if they wished to live in the Great Endless Forest and keep their wolf-skins, they must obey the rules of the domain. That they must obey me. They were bound to me and they resented me greatly, but they still served."
"I don't know who the conmac are," I point out. "And this really isn't helping me feel any better about the situation."
"They are fae," he says. "Immortal, wild fae who wanted power and freedom. I gave them wolf-skins and the ability to shift into wolf form, but I made them promise to be my army if it was needed. They are my wild hunt. And when I have need, I call upon them. Because they are wild, they have no wish to help me, so I must force them to do so. I threaten to withhold their skins if they will not answer the call. And they do so, grudgingly. They would tear my throat out if they could." Kassam's smile is faint. "But I am answered at least."