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Cursing him to Fates, she whirls and snatches his chin. “We can start with your introduction to pain right now, buddy. Just say the word.”

Envy guffaws. “Your wish is my command.”

She yanks her digits from him. “I should be so lucky.”

Liquid mist sprays them both. One would think they’ve spent the night sweating together.

Three locations. They have camped in three locations tonight. The lagoon, this enclave, and the dragonfly cove. He could show her more, much more. There are one-hundred playgrounds in which to roam.

Unfortunately, their days are limited. He’ll need to be selective, choose wisely.

In turn, what does she have in store for him? What nature of pain?

Condemnation, these hours have been full of revelations. One in particular.

She knows how to smile.

Behold, it’s been scientifically proven. She’s capable of working the satisfied muscles of her mouth. And she’s capable of doing it genuinely.

In the dragonfly cove, any signs of cynicism or mockery had vanished, and with them, Envy’s focus. He’d never seen anything so baffling.

Another word for it isattractive. Another word for it ishot.

Naturally, that which is denied increases in value. That’s scarcely a novel idea. Give a cracker to a starving person, and it will taste like a Danish.

Is Sorrow’s smile profound because she never does it?

Envy shakes off the infestation of questions. With his brain currently broken, he’s in no condition to analyze. Doing so will only result in frown lines. He’s determined to look his best, not least while ailing from shattered bones.

According to the transition of light, they’ve been clucking until the cusp of dawn. He replays the highlights. Her naked body glistening in the enclave bath. Her smile in the dragonfly cove, as that winged creature perched on her finger. Her eyes fixed on him as she agreed to his proposition.

This assortment of moments should have made him gloat, should have gotten him as hard as one of his arrows. Yet they’d had a punishing, lingering affect.

When he can’t conceive why, the stars twinkle, as though asking,How many guesses do you need, Envy?

Maybe she had begun to show him pain long before he’d requested it?

The notion brings Envy up short, twisting his mood into a foul one. He scrapes his fingers through his mane. If friendship with this goddess leaves him muddled and inconsistent, he can’t fathom the disaster that love would do.

Very well. He has seen what it does to his classmates, and it doesn’t make them absurd. The couples are happy, empowered. By the stars, those bonds are passionate, born of desire and respect. The couples fluctuate between disputes and laughter; they do both as frequently as they kiss—probably as often as they fuck.

Envy sniffs. But it must get boring, mustn’t it? To be with the same partner repeatedly? For eternity?

For fucking eternity?

All the same, he’d witnessed plenty of intimate gestures between the lovers, the likes of which are blank slates to him. He’s been with countless deities, yet he’s unable to translate the brush of Love’s hand through Andrew’s hair. The way Anger and Merry entwine while sleeping, him strapping her to his chest as if she’ll disappear. The erotic tenderness between Malice and Wonder when they read to one another. The instinctive touches between these pairings, the way they predict one another’s actions, bringing out the worst and best in each other.

Is all that emotional hubbub an aphrodisiac? Does it enhance the sex?

Envy doesn’t care for being left in the dark. However, for once in his existence, he hasn’t been able to ask his companions. Because another thing he doesn’t like is advertising his cluelessness, acknowledging his inadequacy.

The God of Envy knows what others know. In fact, he knows it better.

He puffs up his chest. Forget about love and his friends’ romances. That has no bearing in this enclave.

They make a swift journey to the cavern, where the lagoon emits a veil of steam from the opposite side. Their picnic is still there, abandoned. Envy waves a hand, and the dishes and platters disappear.

Inside, the mood thickens, and the candles pulse. The stream winds around the moss-covered ground.