Brochan ground his teeth. “A date comes with hope for a future together.” And you do not have a future with your mate?
She’s not my mate.
“And passion,” she quipped.
He closed his eyes for a moment, searching for calm. Just get this done.
With great reluctance and an undeniable sliver of eagerness, he slid an arm around her waist, urging her forward. As they walked side by side, unease prickled the back of his neck. She was a powerful goddess of the Afterlife, and she wielded a unique set of skills. Abilities to kill the unkillable. Dangerous talents she could use against Brochan once she finished off Midian and Joseph.
For McCadden, however, Brochan would risk anything.
Soft foliage seemed to lean into her and away from him. He looked up. Anywhere but at his companion. A tier of small suns dominated one side of a lavender sky, beaming streaks of gold.
“How did you find this place?” she asked.
A safe topic. He breathed easier. “As a Sent One, I hunted a rogue horde of Wrath’s minions here.” Lowborn demons who served a higher-ranked master. “This was once a thriving fae realm. But the citizens listened to the evil whispers of the demons and caved to their wicked influence, soon destroying their world and each other. By the time I slaughtered the final minions, only this wasteland remained.”
“Ah. I know those evil whispers well.”
He supposed she did. “Why were you chosen to host Narcissism?”
A moment passed in silence before she sighed. “I’d already unlocked a door and hung a flashing neon sign that read Demons Drink for Free!”
He understood her reference. A single mind was vaster than any galaxy, filled with countless doors, pathways and portals, each one leading to untold delights…or horrors. But no demon could enter a mind without permission from its owner, whether that permission came wittingly or unwittingly. Permission came through thoughts and emotions, for thoughts and emotions kept the doors, pathways and portals sealed, or held them wide open.
“Which emotion did the demon attach to?” he asked.
“Insecurity. What else?”
That, he couldn’t comprehend. “You? Insecure?”
Another moment passed in silence. “By the way,” she said, “the oasis didn’t pop up because of the faucet.”
Though he was disappointed, he allowed the subject change without comment. “Why did it pop up, then?”
She traced her fingertips over a leaf. “The world is thanking me for visiting, bringing beauty, peace and love. As well as the harshest discipline if ever my wishes are disobeyed. And I accept,” she called, spreading her arms.
New flowers bloomed, as if to prove her claim.
He didn’t want to be charmed by this, by her, but… He was undeniably charmed.
“Are we in the middle of a truce?” she asked. “I need to hear you say the words.”
“We…are.”
“Excellent.” She gripped his arm with one hand and pointed to somewhere high up with the other. “I must have it. As my ally, you’re obligated to fetch it for me.”
The touch, slight though it was, scorched him. Heart thumping, he followed the line of her outstretched finger but found nothing extraordinary. “What must I fetch, goddess?” Whatever it was, he would acquire it, no matter the labor involved. Because…just because. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone, least of all himself!
“The cherry-red fruit high, high in the tree. See?” She turned her body into his and batted her lashes at him. Sunlight bathed her flawless features, painting her flesh with a golden glow. “Pluck it for me. Help satisfy my hunger.”
He gulped. Such wonder for a piece of fruit? Helpless to resist her—in this, only this—he flared his wings and flew up, reaching out.
“Not that one,” she called. “No, not that one, either. Nope. Nope. Brochan, were you even listening to me when I described the object of my desire? I said cherry-red, not merlot, scarlet, apple or garnet. No, not sangria or currant, either. Yes! That’s it. That’s the one.”
She certainly knew what she wanted. He’d always admired that about her. A trait he’d noticed right away. She’d locked her gaze on McCadden and never deviated. Until she’d won him.
Scowling, Brochan plucked the fruit as directed, then floated to his feet and offered her the gift.
With a blindingly bright smile, she accepted and peeled the skin, revealing plump, silvery berries sectioned by a large pit. “They’re the same color as your eyes. So pretty.”
His scowl melted away as he blinked. “You like my eyes?”
“Very much.” To his surprise, she offered the first berry to him, a payment of sorts.
Poison? Did he care? As he opened, unable to resist temptation, she placed the fruit upon his tongue. He closed his mouth around her fingers and sucked, sweetness awakening his taste buds.
Her pupils expanded, and her lips parted. Then she chuckled. “Naughty beast.”
Muscles clenched in reflex. The need to sweep her into his arms threatened to unman him. Everything about this woman seduced him. As if she were made for him.
What if she was his mate?
He gnashed his molars. How many others had felt this way about her?
“If you could have any woman,” she said as they continued their stroll, sharing and finishing the fruit, “who is it, and why is it me? I expect to hear the top three reasons. Minimum.”
He should deny her assumption. If he did, he would be lying. Only cowards lied.
Focus on anything else. “How did you occupy your time this week?”
Like him, she allowed a subject change without protest. “The same way you did, I’m sure. Imagining all the things you wished you’d done to me while I showered.”
The bluntly stated truth nailed him straight in the gut. “Cease attempting to garner softer emotions from me, goddess. Be honest with me for once.”
“I am honest with you always, Brochan.” Wink. “Always sometimes.”
This playful side of her unnerved him, reminding him of a thousand other questions he’d entertained since his return. Where was her sadness? Her worry for her beloved pet? Or had she abandoned him, too?
“Why did you begin cleaning the bedchamber today?” he asked harsher than intended. She’d done it the same day she’d experienced a burst of excitement. That wasn’t a coincidence. Something had happened.
“Why does it matter? You abandoned me,” she said, each word hardening. “You wanted me weak so I’d willingly bargain away the key.”
Shame attempted to spark. Ignore. “Yet you strengthened. How?”
Smug, she flipped her hair. “Maybe I fell in love with myself again. You’ve met me, right? We can both agree no one’s more admirable.”
“Or sexier,” he grumbled without thought. His cheeks heated. Perhaps she hadn’t heard—
She darted in front of him and twirled into him, forcing him to stop and grab her, lest his big body fling hers to the ground. “I knew you craved me!”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
Probably. How well she fit his grip. “Do you wish to hear my admission? Very well. Give me the key you aren’t using, and I’ll describe every sordid fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”