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I get a whopping ten feet before his arms secure around my abdomen, lugging the air out of my lungs as he hauls me back into his chest.

My heart surges with a pulse of adrenaline that releases itself, to my dismay, in the form of sputtered laughter. He blows out another amused breath as he dutifully carries me back like a mother cat and her errant kitten.

I struggle against him, trying to break his hold as he stops to lean down and sweep my cloak from the ground. It’s futile. He’s as solid as stone. However, he does halt to tug me further up so my face is level with his neck before he continues forward. “You should really not do that,” he says darkly.

“Why?”

He puffs a breath with a laugh. “You really don’t want to know…listen, I have expended a lot of effort into saving your life. I’m hardly about to waste all that by letting you freeze to death,” he says, voice low in my ear.

“It’s not even that cold!” I lie.

“It is cold, you literally just said it was cold and we’ve been by a fire that’s going to go out when we fall asleep.”

He drops down onto the cloak and tugs us both to our sides with his arms still latched around me. “I damn near brought you back from the dead, pet. You’re in a weakened state. I’m not taking any chances.”

“I haven’t bathed in days!”

Another laugh. “Neither have I. Thankfully we both just took a very relaxing dip,” he says jovially.

“Relaxing?” I snort. “It was free—“ I break off as I realize what it is I’m admitting.

He maneuvers around to tuck the cloak around my bare legs and feet before he wraps his arms back around me and tucks my head under his chin. I go rigidly still, heart beating a frenzied rhythm.

“Gods,” he complains. “This is like cuddling a log.”

Distressingly, he presses his face straight into my neck. “Relax,” he coaxes, breath tickling my ear. “Relax, relax, relax,” he breathes, digging his face further into my neck.

A giggle bred from pure panic erupts from me. “Stop!” I gasp, squirming in an attempt to cleave distance between us. He only moseys his body more snugly against me, bringing his knees forward to rest in the bends of mine.

“This is not helping me relax,” I say through gritted teeth.

He lets out a breathy laugh that sends shivers down the length of my spine. Mistaking it for being brought forth from the cold, he rubs a hand up and down my arm.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. I’m exciting compared to the drudgery of your everyday life. You said so yourself.”

“That’s not what I said.”

His chuckle vibrates against my hair and all of my awareness snags on all the places we are joined. His face in my hair, my back against his chest, legs curling into mine and his arms draped over my middle with a hand sprawled against the ground in front of me. Even though we were both rinsed clean in the spring like he mentioned the faint musk of days without a true bath lingers on him. His scent envelopes me with every inhale. It’s potent and yet…still somehow not offensive. Masculine, woodsy, comforting, and strangely tantalizing.

Absolutely ludicrous thoughts to have about an unwashed person, that can only be the effects of his magical allure on me. My breaths quicken. I can feel the sensation of his magic sweeping deep into my core. But he …

“You don’t have your magic right now…” I say impetuously.

He props his head up on an elbow to stare down at me. “We went over this…hours ago.”

“I just—never mind,” I say quickly, trying to maintain an outward equanimity while I internally spiral. He doesn’t have his magic, which means…it’s not his magic. It’s not his magic making me react like this.

Which means it can only be me .

“You act like I’m an ogre or something.”

No…he’s far from an ogre. That’s the problem. “Worse, you’re a witch,” I mutter.

“You know…I did extend a lot of effort in saving your life,” he says, still staring me down.

“You already said that. Are you implying I owe you or something?”

“What—no. I mean, a thank you would be nice. And I know you’re capable of that because I heard you thank Epona. I just thought that would account for some trust, no? But you’re still as skittish as ever.”

“It doesn’t make you any less of a wolf.”

“A wolf ?”

“Yes, a wolf,” I snap. “With absolutely no sense of personal space.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Don’t know that one?”

“No, I’m not familiar with your ancient jargon.”

“Hmph.”

“Tell me what it means.” When I don’t respond, he pokes me in the ribs, and I turn my head to scowl up at him.

“Would you—“

“Tell me what it means,” he demands.

“A wolf is a man that preys upon women,” I huff.

He goes rigidly still. “I thought you didn’t know any men,” he says gruffly.

“Just because I don’t know them doesn’t mean I don’t know of them.” I turn my head back to stare off into the darkness of the wood. He clears his throat, shifting slightly as he pulls back the arm binding around me. “I’m not…” He pauses, contemplating. “There are no ulterior motives here, only warmth.”

It’s meant to comfort me, but it has the opposite effect. With the madness of the last few days, I’d forgotten why I was mad at him in the first place. He kissed me . In my worst moment. My body flashes hot and cold, and I’m fuming all over again.

“You mean nothing unsavory ?” I question, a reminder of his failed promise.

His body tenses behind mine. “Nothing unsavory, pet,” he confirms.

“You’ve said that before,” I bite out.

“I swear…”

“Yeah, well, of course not now. There’s no crowd of people here for you to repulse, is there?”

Silence swallows up the bracketing tension between us, and he expels a breath. “I…wanted them to see how shallow and superficial they are. That I don’t care—“

“You don’t care?” I scoff. “Are you proud of yourself? Would you like an award? You dare go where no Magi has gone before. The bravery,” I say with feigned awe. “Should I be honored that you’ve lowered your standards—“

“It’s not like that,” he cuts in.

“No,” I agree. “What you really wanted was to provoke them—to piss them off—which is everything you told me I can’t do.”

Silence. He’s not even going to try to deny it. Tears sting at my eyes and I bite at the inside of my lip.

“Pandora.” He nudges my shoulder in a silent request to face him. I dither for a moment before rolling onto my back and bringing my elbow down to cover the bottom half of my face. He gently slides it back up, a request rather than a demand.

“I’m really sorry--I shouldn’t have done that. It puts you at risk in a different way…and you didn’t agree to it. I just—you’re right, I was really pissed off that they would do that to you.” His words come out in a rushed stream so unlike his usual confidence. “I guess I did want to prove something to them.”

I cast him a withering glare, and his brows form a culpable v. “But it wasn’t my intention to hurt you or make you feel ashamed. Sometimes…” He sighs, looking away. “Sometimes I’m an idiot.”

As much as I want to hold onto my anger, I can feel it slipping out like water between my fingers. “What was that ritual supposed to do?”

He groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter because it won’t work.”

“Sitri…” His gaze darts back to me immediately. Face so close in the dim light. I don’t know why he appears taken aback but his full attention is suddenly disconcerting. “What was it supposed to do? ”

He pushes back at the dark, messy curls draping his forehead with a sigh. “If we performed the Blood of the Gods properly…which we didn’t. It would make that we never hunger for another…“ His voice lowers. “Meaning we would no longer desire anyone else.”

My jaw drops.

“It became—not commonplace per se but, done when a God would take a mortal wife, he would bind her with the heart of his enemy. Kind of a morbid tradition brought forth after Nyxo’s wife slept with another man, and he fed her the man’s heart as revenge. So you can see how Morin thought that would be fitting for us since it was most commonly known between Gods and mortals as a sort of proof of their loyalty.”

Never hunger for another …I can feel heat building in my cheeks and I pull my elbow down to cover them. He reaches down and slides it back up. “Don’t panic. It won’t work.”

“It was enough to make me sick,” I remind him.

“I’m seriously not concerned about it. In the scheme of things…” He trails off without finishing that thought. “As horrible as it was, some things did go in our favor, believe it or not. Even if in all the wrong ways. The punishment for interfering with your life is loud and clear. Any events from here on out won’t be centered on us. Hopefully, you can just fade to the background now.”

He must recognize I’m not convinced because he lets out another slow exhale. “I wish this hadn’t happened to you, Pandora, and I wish I could make you better promises.”

“Your Gods took mortal wives?”

“Yeah, of course. And husbands, too.” He cocks his head. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t exist.” Sensing my confusion, he continues. “That’s what Magi are—the descendants of Gods and mortals. You really didn’t know that?”

I shake my head, brows crumpling as I recall something they’d said. “You’re a descendant of the Horned God.”

He nods. “Yes, that’s the God I most closely descend from. Where did you think we came from?”

I squirm with chagrin. “I was always taught that witches’ powers come from making a deal with the devil.”

He barks out a laugh. “No deals with devils, we’re born this way.”

“Damn.”

He quirks a brow. “Damn?”

“I was starting to think that deal might be worth it.”

Shock ripples across his face. Even I’m surprised to have admitted it. I’m not sure I’ve even admitted as much to myself. My face grows hot and my body tightens, knowing he’s going to torment me endlessly for this confession. He stares down at me, humor in his face fading into something that looks a lot like grim sympathy. Like, he knows it’s not really about the magic at all, it’s about being normal. Somehow this feels even worse.

His expression turns contemplative. “You know there did use to be a deal sort of like that between Gods and mortals.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. It’s such a tender motion my face flames mercilessly. He wrenches his hand back, closing it into a fist as if it had somehow escaped him.

“There was?” I ask, curiosity piquing.

“Yes, an exchange of powers, but no one’s been successful with it for a very long time.”

“You mean you could give me magic? Make it so I’m not a nought anymore?” Make it so I’m not hated any more…

“That’s what the Great Rite was but…no one’s been successful with it for a very long time. And many have tried.” The hope in my chest is vanquished like a flame snuffing out as he offers me a wry grin. “Besides, I don’t think you’d be interested in that deal.”

“Why not?” I ask, words muffled by my yawn.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. But I don’t think right now would be the appropriate time. We should sleep. Only warmth, okay,” he says, face laden with caution.

I turn back to my side, and he settles back down, nudging my head to shove his arm underneath it while the other wraps around me to drape against the ground. My heart picks up pace again. I’m never going to be able to sleep like this. I’m wound so tight when a twig snaps in the distance I flinch. His arm tightens around me. "Wards, pet, remember? Nothing can surpass the perimeter.”

“What was that?” I whisper.

“I don’t know. Probably a squirrel.”

“Don’t squirrels sleep at night?”

“Then it was some other nocturnal creature. Something that cannot surpass the wards, and I am totally unconcerned about.” My mind continues to churn. Another crunching sound emits from the woods, and I flinch. “Pet,” he sighs.

“I’ve never done this. I’ve never slept outside before,” I rebuke.

“You’re safe,” he promises, pulling me in more tightly. A few minutes pass in silence before I whisper, “Have you ever seen a God?”

“Pandora.”

The sound of him uttering my name again, especially in a forbidding tone ignites a sudden tension within me. There’s no chance he didn’t feel it. “Don’t say that,” I huff, gnashing my teeth together.

He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Don’t say your name?”

“Not like that.”

“I am really tired, Pandora .”

“Have you ever seen a God?” I whisper.

“No, I have not seen a God. They’ve been gone for a long time. But I might start hallucinating them if you won’t let me sleep.”

“How do you know they’re real then?”

“Because I do. Because I exist. Now go to sleep,” he whispers.

“I don’t think I can.” He groans. “What? You’re the one that forced me over here with you. I could be sitting over there by the fire. So if I keep you awake, it’s your own fault.”

“You need to sleep too.” He lifts the hand draping across the ground and aims it toward my face. “Maybe I can help you.”

I shrink back, only succeeding in pressing my head back to his chest. “I thought you didn’t have your magic.”

He chuckles. “Not like that.”

Instead of aiming for my chin, like he had the last time he put me to sleep his hand drifts up toward the top of my head. There’s something tentative about his motions as he buries his fingers in my hair. I’m still waiting for the pulse of magic to follow even though he’s already told me he’s exhausted his magic and isn’t intending to use it.

There’s no magic.

Only the tips of his nails lighting up a thousand nerve endings as he traces delicate circles across my scalp.

My panic ignites and I jerk away, the back of my head smashing into his chest again as a giggle spills out of me.

He freezes. “What?”

“What’re you doing?” I gasp.

“I’m trying—“

“You’re petting me,” I gasp with another half-delirious laugh.

He huffs out a low laugh. “Isn’t that what one does with their pets?”

“I’m not your pet,” I snap, jerking my head away from his chest. He grabs my shoulder and carves me back a few inches.

“Oh, calm down. You’re so skittish. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just trying to help you relax.”

His fingers loosen around my shoulder and then graze over my collar bone apprehensively. “My mother used to do this for me when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep. Hasn’t anyone ever done this for you before?”

He traces up my neck, slowly like he’s waiting for me to tell him to stop.

I should tell him to stop.

My heart blazes in my chest yet my body turns to stone which seems to signal an answer to an unspoken question. Just not one I’ve made consciously.

I’ve never been touched like this. Or if I have its been so long I can no longer remember. I’ve hardly let anyone touch me at all with the violent force usually surging under my skin.

My entire point of consciousness zeros in on the fingers grazing my jaw, trailing my temple and across my forehead, tracing back down to the crown of my ear. Every place he touches follows a singeing ecstasy under my skin that flushes warm despite the chilled air. I feel like I’m falling, sinking, and floating all at the same time. I let out a long exhale and slowly, my body loosens and I sink further into the ground, relaxing more fully against the arm under my neck.

He laces his fingers through my hair in soothing repetitive motions, combing it out gently when he hits a snag. It’s too tender , too gentle …making my heart roll and drop in alarming ways.

He sucks in a deep inhale, shifting closer so that the back of my head is brushing his chest. It hits me that he’s probably cold himself, having literally given me his shirt and his cloak and left his own body bare to the elements.

He didn’t have to save me.

The enormity of what he’s done washes over me again, unearthing an uneasy sensation of guilt. He hasn’t slept in days in order to save me, has gladly given me his clothing, is delicately stroking my hair in order to help me relax, and yet all I do is fight him because…

I’m afraid of him.

Afraid because I didn’t know what he was truly capable of…certain he was using magic to manipulate me. Yet those fears seem to be completely unfounded, born from my own paranoia and insecurity. His arm slowly lowers, coming to a rest against my own as he continues painting my hair. The firm, heavy weight of it fills me with this overwhelming sense of… safety .

I am afraid of him but I’m not afraid with him.

I feel safe.

Like there’s nothing in this world he wouldn’t protect me from.

How long has it been since I’ve felt that? Weeks…years ….

Never.

Thank you. Those words cling to the tip of my tongue, held captive behind the back of my teeth. Thank you. Why is it so difficult to voice?

Finding resolve, I swiftly pull myself up before I can over think it and chicken out.

“Pet…” His voice is groggy like he’s only minutes from drifting off himself.

Unwrapping the cloak from my lower half, I whip it out and drape half of it across him, avoiding his questioning stare.

“You don’t have to—“

He breaks off as I settle myself back on the ground and position myself back against him fully, connected to him from my neck to my lower back so we can share the cloak. This is as much of a thank you as I can muster.

For several seconds he’s frozen stiff and my cheeks stain pink. He slowly loosens, muscles in his diaphragm expanding with an inhale. He reaches down, hooks one hand around my foot, and re-situates it between the warmth of his legs. He does the same with the other and melds himself more fully against me, head scooting forward to curl over me and waft warm breaths against the top of my head as he takes to smoothing my hair again.

Eventually, despite that we’re in the middle of the wilderness, situated on cold hard ground I drift into sleep.