Page 42

Malice

Wonder holds her gaze upright, refusing to glance south.

Or at the very least, to look away entirely like a well-bred nun.

Naturally, the astute goddess senses either reaction is what he wants.

To see the goddess succumb, to watch her satisfy that curiosity.

Or if not, then to have her turn away, the gesture proving how uncontrollably affected she’s become by her library roommate.

As if he’s the exception to her rules, the same way she’s becoming his.

In other words, misery loves company.

True, the last two smutty episodes already show it’s getting harder to keep their hands to themselves. But what can Malice say? He’s a selfish prick when it comes to this female.

Of course, Wonder does the opposite. She keeps her attention level with his, narrowing her eyes while all hell breaks loose inside Malice.

From a dozen paces, he inhales fresh soil, jasmine, and rainwater wafting from her skin, as potent as perfume.

The Chamber illuminates her nightgown, the wet fabric clinging to her like shrink wrap, one of the straps slashing down her shoulder.

Her nipples stab through the material, her hips flare against the textile, and the priceless shadow of her pussy is on display.

Thunder claps beyond the arched windows. Bobbing branches punch the glass.

Wonder’s own eyes strays across the whipcord muscles stacked in his torso.

That green gaze is palpable, burning a trail along his flesh.

That’s how he’d known she was spying in the garden, watching him scrub down, her gleaming eyes tacked to his ass.

It’s the reason his cock remains as hard as a spear.

Malice’s body temperature reaches a degree that could roast kindling to cinders. But for the hundredth time, how he knows a goddamn thing about heat gets on his nerves. Just like their silence.

Because her attention never lowers toward anything that will make this encounter more interesting, her pupils snap back to his face. “If I forgot my weapons, you’ve forgotten your clothes.”

His mouth twists into a sneer. “Never wore any to begin with. I waltzed bare-assed from my chamber. As to the former, it’s not archery you forgot before vacating the premises.”

“What, then?”

“The eyeful of my cock you’d been hoping for.”

Crimson stains Wonder’s cheeks like fresh blood. Yet her tongue lashes out in accusation. “What were you doing out there?”

“Ah. Not denying my theory, but neither are you acknowledging the unfulfilled peep show you sought.” He crosses his bulky arms. “If that’s the case, I’m hardly about to give the obvious answer.”

“I meant, there are perfectly functional bathing facilities inside.”

“And there was a perfectly functional rainstorm outside. Your point?” But before she can sidestep the real issue by needlessly rebuking Malice, he summarizes, “Just because you scurried away like a mouse, that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to stay.

If I had turned fast enough to give you no choice, I’d wager my immortal life savings that a full frontal would have stapled your pretty, pedicured toes to the grass. ”

Wonder meets his challenge head-on, trampling over him with a flat expression. “But you didn’t turn quickly enough. And I did leave.”

His teeth gnash. Meaning, he’s the only one dwelling.

Oh, but he’s not falling for that shit. Because no matter who left, who stayed, who’s analyzing, and who’s not, they’ve both still ended up in the same fucking place.

Malice breaks from his stance while unbuckling Wonder’s archery. He lowers the bow and quiver, then swaggers across the aisle, congratulating himself on how his waist rotates into her line of vision.

Wonder’s a multitasker. She avoids glimpsing his attributes, retreats from his advance, and raises her chin all in one go. Except her ass hits a dead-end, butting up against a paneled wall.

He could put on a glib front. He could make contact, cage her in with his arms, and get cocky. But he doesn’t fucking feel like relying on his default.

Instead, he looms within touching distance, testing her resolve. He would also ask where this is coming from. After fucking her with his fingers, then making her come hard around his pumping tongue—not once but three times until the moon blazed hot in the sky—this chaste attitude doesn’t track.

But Malice knows. He knows what this is about, following their latest sexcapade when she’d been basking in the orgasm and staring at him like an infernal saint. He knows because he’s spent millennia wearing the same defenses like armor. He also knows simply because he’s not an idiot.

The more they act on this twisted mutual attraction, the closer they get. The closer they get, the more walls collapse. The more walls collapse, the more exposed they become.

Too late to backpedal, though. He wants this, no holds barred.

The only question is whether she’s as far gone as Malice.

Despite how she’s regarding him like a quality-cut tenderloin, all the while attempting to hide it, his stomach clenches.

Something about this is off, as if her desire is disingenuous.

“Go ahead,” Malice invites, his inflection molten. “Look at me. See what’s behind curtain number one.”

“There’s no curtain in sight,” she states primly. “Even so, the view doesn’t make you special.”

“Tsk, tsk. Neither does being modest. But then, you’re not as morally genteel as you let on to the world.”

Nothing like calling a goddess out on presumed cowardice. Pride rinses away Wonder’s prissy exterior. Then her glower loosens in surrender.

That’s right. He’s tasted her blood and cum. They’ve driven each other crazy. What’s the use in pretending anymore?

At length, Wonder skims over his sopping hair and tense mouth.

The whole time, he watches her eyes travel to his pectorals, the firm nipples, and the washboard abdomen.

As she makes this long-overdue odyssey, his pulse goes rogue.

He feels every pass like a brush of flames, her gaze descending the stitching of hair below his navel, between the steep angles of his hips.

Down to his feverish cock.

A faint noise blows from Wonder’s lips, her mouth splitting open like a gate.

Apart from watching this goddess kick ass or crack open a book, this the sexiest thing Malice has ever seen.

The way her pupils dilate on his dick, her attention pumping it with blood to the sac.

His girth stiffens harder, bloating at the wide, ruddy head.

His balls hang heavy, thin veins weave up to the crown, and an opaque drop of cum surfaces from his thin slit.

But one thing she clearly hadn’t predicted are the embellishments.

Three sterling bars pierce the stem of his cock, with small, polished beads ornamenting each end.

The piercings had been an impulse decision in The Celestial City, one he’s never regretted.

And neither would Wonder if she ever offered him the luxury of fucking her the old-fashioned way.

When Malice speaks, even he doesn’t recognize the mayhem in his voice. “Did you like what you saw in the rain? Did you want to fuck me?”

Wonder’s head leaps up. She gapes at him, her cheeks as red as blood, her irises vanishing behind the pupils.

Before she can stammer out a reply, he rasps, “I bet we’d fit. I bet your immortal pussy would be as tight as a tube around me. I bet those sweet lips are wetter right now than all those flowers outside.”

She exhales deeply. “You’re playing a cruel game.”

“You’re playing it with me,” Malice hisses through his teeth. “That’s not the problem. The game is the easy part. It’s when the game is over and we stop playing, that shit gets real. So we have two choices: walk away, or dive headfirst. Which one is scarier?”

Her spine lifts from the wall. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same. But of course, you’re not the frightened type. That would make you sound like a prude or a virgin.”

“Are you asking?” she whispers, sidling closer.

Fuck. Suddenly, this female sounds like a vamp, as if she knows what’ll bait him.

Malice stalks nearer, his voice seething into the crawlspace between them.

“A bold question, even if the answer will result in mass murder when I find out who’s touched you before.

Not that I’d prefer you to have never known pleasure. ”

“I’m two thousand eight hundred years old.”

“And I’m two thousand seven hundred years young.” He shakes his head in mock horror. “You wanton cougar.”

“Don’t worry,” she murmurs, provoking him, tossing out the hook. “I’m not about to wound your fragile ego by elaborating. My dalliances are none of your concern.”

“Meaning, it’s somebody I know.” Like a master of secrets, he checks her expression, dissecting it until his vision blackens. “Anger.”

Clearly, Wonder hadn’t expected that guess. Her nostrils flare, but not as wide as Malice’s do. He takes her silence as confirmation, his talons curling and every killer instinct on high alert.

As if he gives a shit about Anger’s fidelity, Wonder hastens to explain, “He hadn’t met Merry yet. It was only one night, a mistake because we were lonely for… Well, Anger carried a torch for Love at the time, and I was dealing with the aftermath of my torture. We sought refuge in each other.”

Instantly, the pain in her features stokes Malice’s fury for a new reason. “Did that motherfucker hurt you?”

“No.” Her afflicted expression vanishes, replaced by offense. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have let him.”

Malice nods. He had assumed as much. Although there’s one less motive for cremating the rage god, Malice would still fantasize about clipping off Anger’s renowned pecker, if not for one thing.

Wonder had said she’d needed comfort. If Anger gave that to her, can Malice hold it against him?

No, he fucking can’t, despite the jealousy chewing on his tendons.

This isn’t about him. It’s about Wonder’s agony.

Though, now that she’s gotten a second defensive wind, one fact remains. She may have shagged Anger out of self-preservation, but that doesn’t mean the sex was a burden.

As usual, Malice can’t keep his mouth shut. “Did you enjoy it?”

The goddess cringes. “Let me pass.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Let. Me. Pass.”

“I mean, that god has enough bulletproof muscles to recommend him. It’s a perfect visual, how he must have pounded you into the mattress, his cock shaped like a weapon and welded like iron. Did you writhe and beg for more? Or did the orgasm pop out like a sob?”

“Get out of my way, asshole!”

“You enjoyed that fucker. Loudly and repeatedly.”

“Yes!” she spits. “I had sex with Anger a lifetime ago. I enjoyed it and then woke up the next morning wishing it never happened. Because he wasn’t…” But she swallows the rest of her words, trapping them inside her.

It doesn’t matter. Malice picks up on Wonder’s apprehension the same way a bloodhound detects a residual scent. “Because he wasn’t that mortal you got tortured for.” He eats up the final inches, their chests abrading. “And me? Am I another filler?”

How many times has this goddess looked at him, yet given the impression she was thinking of someone else, sizing Malice up against an apparition? Is this why he can’t stop comparing himself to some ghostly competition?

Wonder compresses her lips. But Malice doesn’t need an answer when it’s sitting as clear as glass on her face. She’s pining, hung up on a corpse.

Each time Malice made her come, was she picturing a dead human? And why the hell does that possibility slice him in half?

“I’m guilty, too,” he says, feigning indifference.

“I’ve seen humans go at it in parks, clubs, cars, and The Moonlit Carnival.

Before my eviction, I watched deities bang hard, some of them inviting me to watch.

It fills the void until it doesn’t, because it tells you only so much about what you like. ”

He deepens his tenor, wanting to strip that human from Wonder’s mind until all she sees, feels, and hears is Malice.

“What do you like, Wildflower? I think your highest standards include mortal affection. Is that what you wanted from me? Because in case you’ve forgotten, you came like an invincible goddess anyway. ”

Wonder gets in his face. “I pity you have to try this hard to be in control.”

Malice’s jaw ticks. One of his saber nails claws down the wall behind her.

“I think we’re doing much better together than you imagined.

I think you wanted to bounce on my cock in that tree.

That would have been fun, making you shout to The Stars, that mouth wide open and emptying itself of noise.

I think you’ve wanted to mount me from the beginning, the same way I’ve wanted to split your pussy with more than just one ligament.

I think if I kissed you, you’d kiss me back, letting my teeth mark your mouth, letting my tongue fuck yours.

I think if I nailed you to the bookcases, your ass would ride those shelves until every book dropped to the floor—”

Wonder charges. She plows into him, spinning them around, Malice’s back hammering into the wall. A grunt rips from his throat as he registers their switched positions.

His pulse slams against hers, rapid and shallow. Out of nowhere, agitation scuttles across his skin, spurred by the blaze in this goddess’s pupils.

Wonder curls into him, her pliable curves molding to his body.

“You talk too much,” she growls, roping her fingers around his throat like a collar.

“And you like listening to yourself far too much. But now you’re going to listen to me.

I don’t care how much I desire your cock.

I don’t care how many orgasms you extract from me.

Insult my peers, mock my desires, or abuse my words, and so help me, I will stab you with your own claws.

Show me respect, show my crew respect, and return my damned corsage, or I will pull your weaknesses from the roots and leave them to wither.

I’ll tear through this place and find every fact you seek, and then I’ll make you prostrate yourself for them. Do you understand me?”

Words abandon him. Every potential vicious, demented, obscene, or wrathful response flakes to ash in his mouth. And then a reply slides out, a word neither of them expect to hear given so freely.

His jugular bobs as he answers, “Yes.”