Page 25

Wonder

She awakens with her cheek swimming in a puddle of drool.

Her head lifts from the desk, arms crossed into a makeshift pillow.

Dawn spills through the windows, dousing The Archives in a gradient of blue.

The last thing she remembers is the legend blurring in her vision and her eyelids weighing down like cement.

Behold, the side effects of pulling an all-nighter, replete with spittle and soiled clothes that cling to her skin. Grogginess aside, she embraces the nostalgia like an old blanket, soft and comforting. She would willingly fall asleep amid books any day.

An additional perk is that Malice is nowhere to be seen. He would gloat that he doesn’t need to stay up in order to conquer The Archives. And bravo for him, but she’s more dedicated than that.

Time for rejuvenation. After tidying up, Wonder carries the anthology and letter to her chamber. Upon her initial arrival, she had outfitted the wardrobe closet; rifling through the options, she dons a silk robe and pads barefooted into the corridor.

Malice’s lair is deathly silent. He must be lurking in one of the wings, though she would bet his door is locked and confirms as much when testing the knob.

However, that’s not the real impediment.

Despite the stardusted bolt, it might be possible to blast open the partition with her arrows if her aim is true.

The problem is her corsage isn’t in his room. Not anymore. They cannot be after he caught her once. No, Malice has hidden her flowers elsewhere.

Beating him at this hide-and-seek game requires a new contingency plan, which necessitates a recharge.

Descending the tower, Wonder steps from the building and into a patio fashioned as a bathing area for residents.

She sighs at the beautiful sight of a deep pool shrouded in greenery, willow branches draping around the rim to form a curtain.

The steam coiling from the water is purely aesthetic, temperature being a moot subject. But the effect is pretty, especially beneath a firmament spangled with morning constellations. The fragrance of elderflowers wafts through the air, and lotus buds float in the water.

Checking the perimeter, Wonder twists her locks into a messy bun, then shimmies out of the rob.

A breeze caresses her naked skin, dancing around her limbs as she hooks the vestment over a bough.

She wades in, the splashing sounds reinvigorating.

Submerged and reclining against the ledge, she brackets her arms and tips her head back.

Her breasts drip, her nipples pucker over the surface, and her legs bob like rafts.

Every residual dilemma and newfound discovery vanishes from her mind.

She whispers to whichever dawn stars are listening. “If a book contained an entire life, how many pages would it be?”

Lotuses drift around Wonder, one of them settling atop her foot. She rubs the blossom until a foaming cream rises from the bud, then she lathers herself, cleansing with its generous essence.

Another stream of air gusts into the alcove, lifting the hairs alone her nape.

Wonder swerves, a quick scan verifying no one’s there.

If Malice were spying, she would know it, because he would let himself be known.

He’d rather be a loud antagonist than a silent creeper.

In which case, Wonder would thrust a tsunami of water in his direction.

However, the most plausible scenario involves him stealing her robe like a wicked fae and forcing her to travel naked through The Archives.

This wouldn’t be a shocker in their homeland.

Deities are nothing if not flippantly mischievous, amusing themselves with such deeds. Usually, it’s a prelude to copulation.

Anyway. Where Malice is concerned, the bar is even higher.

Still. Thoughts of his eyes on her wet body dispatch a high wattage flux across Wonder’s limbs. The sensations accentuate the motions of the water, eddies caressing her nipples, grazing her hips, and licking along the pleat of her cunt. These intrusions overwhelm Wonder, shivers wracking her flesh.

She finishes washing in a hurry, then rinses herself and exits the pool, her bare soles making flipper sounds against the rim’s tiles. Reaching the branch where she had draped her robe, Wonder halts. The vestment is gone.

“Malice!”

The scream cannons off her tongue. Nude, Wonder flips around and marches into The Archives, her dripping curves soaking the floor.

Lanterns spotlight her flesh in deep blue, emphasizing the pits of her nipples and the rift between her legs.

If deities were modest, this graphic trip would be controversial.

But since neither applies, it’s merely an annoyance.

That doesn’t dissuade Wonder from tearing a short linen curtain off a window rod and wrapping it around herself. By the time she reaches the cartography branch, she’s ready to maul him. Rounding a corner displaying maps of The Dark Fates, she smashes to a standstill.

Slouching against a shelf of massive books containing charts, Malice waits like an asshole.

Enameled in morning starlight, he wears a sheer shirt as black as carbon, the transparent mesh ornamented with fine whiplashes of chain.

His jeans have also been replaced by onyx leather pants that fit snugly around his waist.

A set of conniving eyes rake over her sodden state, admiration glinting in those pupils at her industrious use of the drapery. Because the window had been diminutive in size, the fabric quivers around her upper thighs, barely covering the rims of her ass.

Grinning like a son of a bitch, the god lifts and wiggles her silken robe, an index finger poking through the inner hook. “You’ve got feminine taste.”

Wonder fists the curtain against her bust. “And if this is the best you can do, you’re no better than a common god.”

“Tsk, tsk. Say that again, and you’ll upset me. I’m as unique as they come, and I prefer the term devil . I like being a devil. It’s so devilish of me.”

“I, I, I,” she parrots. “Me, me, me.” Then Wonder scoffs, giving him a condescending once-over. “From where I’m standing, you’re hardly proving my theory incorrect.”

Bait taken. Those eyes slit like daggers. “Then allow me to demonstrate.”

“Really? I’m astounded you would accept a rudimentary challenge so quickly. You never have with anyone else that I’ve witnessed.”

“Anyone else isn’t you.”

Wonder’s mouth parts. What the hell does that mean?

By the time that question has entered her mind, Malice is bunching the robe’s collar in his fist and stalking toward her. Gripping the curtain tighter, Wonder mirrors the action, striding in his direction as well. Let no one accuse her of backing away from this demon.

They storm forward, charging headlong like bulls, and it gratifies Wonder to see his boots stall first. For good measure, she takes an extra step, takes the lead.

Which only makes his lips tilt, which she longs to smack so hard the demon’s mouth will fall off.

Beams of morning starlight cast them in a lapis blue sheen.

Fuming, they glare at one another, the library turning into a battleground when they’re supposed to be working together.

But who are they kidding? Bargain or not. Parley or not. This is impossible when she routinely wishes to stab him.

So be it. Wonder has uncovered three legends by herself. Her track record verifies she doesn’t need him after all.

“You have a nasty habit of taking what’s mine,” she confronts. “Having withdrawals since yesterday? Already starved for confrontation, are you?”

“Starved for lots of things,” he replies suavely. “Except you know me better than to make basic assumptions.”

“Then why did you take it?”

“The color brings out my eyes.”

“Well, if you needed a makeover, you should have come to me directly. My fist can accomplish the same thing.”

“What can I say?” Malice exhibits the robe like fishing tackle. “I enjoy getting your attention.”

Her fingers swipe the garment from his hands. “You enjoy getting everyone’s attention. Period.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

Anyone isn’t you.

Yes, Wonder heard. No, she doesn’t wish to analyze. He’s trifling with her like he does with everyone.

“You should be researching instead of reducing yourself to petty antics,” she accuses.

“Spare me the righteous act,” Malice intones, getting in her face. “To rephrase my point, you’re too resourceful to believe my motives are random.”

Fine. Malice is an asshole, but he’s not an adolescent. He doesn’t do anything without an objective.

Wonder squints, then registers what she hadn’t before. “You wanted to see how easy it is to sneak up on me.”

“No, I wanted you to see how easy it is. Let your guard down like that, and unexpected visitors will steal more than just your fashion choices.”

“I can handle an intruder.”

“I know you can. But can you handle a dozen? While unarmed?”

That brings her up short. It’s unlikely to happen during Stellar Worship, but it’s also a fair point.

She had been weaponless, exposed, and distracted.

Typically, this isn’t the case for Wonder, but her current stress level isn’t helping, and not just because of his proximity.

This campaign is relying on her. The crew is counting on her.

Because of the pressure, she’s slipping, perhaps pushing herself too hard.

It hits Wonder like an arrow. Every stunt Malice has pulled has been an inadvertent way of exercising her vigilance.

Not for his benefit, but her own. Whereas Wonder had been thwarting his own efforts out of defense, not knowing or trusting his goals at large, especially in case it placed other innocents in danger, Malice has been acting on her behalf.

He knows she can protect herself. So long as she’s focused.

Wonder regards him dubiously. “You have a strange way of keeping someone on their toes.”