The meeting finally ended. Thank every god for that. Including me. Twice.
As the others began filing out, Yara made her entrance. Flowed, really. Always so bloody theatrical, liquid grace and half-naked arrogance. Blue hair tumbling like waves, bright eyes sparkling like she'd swallowed the sea itself. She was all water and attention, and she knew how to use both. She zeroed in on me, then flicked her gaze to Annie. Assessing. Curious. Oh… was that jealousy? Delicious.
"Yara, my starfish," I purred, hand to my heart, "you look positively dripping today."
Water pun. Predictable. Annie made some horrid sound behind me, halfway between exhaustion and despair. Yara, though, beamed like I'd given her a crown. Gods, she thrived on this. And I'd always enjoyed her. Had considered more than enjoyment once or twice. But she was too much like her oceans: wild, untamable, impossible to keep. No, Yara was not for me. But she was fun. When was the last time we had fun? Uh, last week I think. Was that before Annie? Hmm. Yeah. Damn I hadn't gotten laid in...
She pressed against me, fingers bold and wandering beneath my shirt. I let her play. Why not? It was Yara. But my attention wasn't on her. It was on Annie. Who, predictably, gave me nothing. No flinch. No glare. Not even an eye-roll. She was marble. And I knew she would be. Yara kept at it, purring, teasing, flirting until, oh? She shifted. Her focus angled toward Annie. Her fingers reached out, exploratory.
And mine snapped around her wrist before she touched. "That's mine." I said it lazily, smirk curving my lips, voice all velvet and tease. But I meant it. Meant it with a heat I rarely let out.
"Yara," I went on, smooth as honey, "we don't touch other people's toys without their permission."
She tilted her head at me, all sultry defiance. "Oh, Mal, you should let me play with your new toy. I'm sure you have. She looks so fun. The priest spoke so highly of her."
I raised a brow. Oh? Hadn't bothered to read the priest's promises. Didn't care. But now? Now I was listening. "And what exactly piqued your interest, my little Octopus?" I stopped myself before I added the 'sy' to the end of that.
Yara smirked, twirling a blue strand around her finger. "She was trained to please. By the best of the best."
Not a suggestion. A statement. I hummed, flicking a glance at Annie. Calm. Listening. Unmoved. Always unmoved. "Oh yes, very pleasing," I drawled, waving a hand. "No complaints."
But inside? My gut turned. Trained. To please. Of course she had been. And I hadn't touched her for that very reason. Because I didn't take what wasn't given. Not when it came to desire. That was the whole point. I want to be wanted. If it was just duty, just expectation, then what was the game worth? Nothing.
Yara kept yammering about her latest lovers, her tide of words endless. Men, women, nobles, all collected like seashells. "You should join me, Mal," she purred. "We could have such fun together. Just like old times."
I smirked. "Not today, Yara, angelfish. Though the blonde does sound delightful."
Neither of us knew her name. And that was exactly why I wasn't interested. I remembered names. Always. It made them easier to play with, easier to bend. I steered her back. "Yara, what did you bid for our lovely sacrifice?"
She grinned, hair flipping over her shoulder like a wave. "Several beaches, a few lakes… even a lake house. That lake house. The one we've been to several times."
I smirked, tilting my head, feigning nostalgia. "Ah, I do love that lake house."
She laughed. Perfect. I tugged more from her with little nudges, and she spilled scraps of the bidding war. Never anything worth a damn, but enough. Then she sighed dramatically, as though remembering the grand tragedy of the decade. "I still cannot believe you won. Ten years of no pranks. I even voted yes! You won unanimously. What will you do without it?"
I beamed. "Oh, I have my workarounds."
Her eyes narrowed. "You promised no pranks."
Hand to chest, feigning deep offense, I gasped. "And I am a god of my word, Yara-pearl." Then, with a wicked little glint-- "I never said Anastasia wouldn't prank you."
Yara blinked, then laughed, eyes sliding toward Annie with sharp, glittering interest. "Of course. You always find your loopholes."
I smirked. "Oh, my little mermaid, you know I do."
Satisfied, she prattled on, her voice washing over me like tide on stone. Pretty. Predictable. Always the same. At last, with a flirtatious giggle, she kissed both my cheeks before flowing away, all waves and glitter. Exhausting. I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. And Annie, damn woman, smiled at me. Knowing. Coy. My eyes narrowed instantly. Suspicious. Always suspicious. I saw Maximus heading our way. Absolutely not.
Without hesitation, I grabbed Annie, snapped my fingers, and gone. The Pantheon blinked out of existence, replaced by the warm, comfortable chaos of my realm. My shoulders dropped as I let her go, dragging a frustrated hand through my hair.
"I was not in the mood for his crap," I muttered, pacing like a caged lion. "He would've flirted with you or me, or both. And gods, Annie, from experience, don't do it."
Her brows arched. "From experience?"
I threw up both hands. "As free-loving as he claims to be, he is needy. Needy. Always inviting me to his realm, to the mortal realm, to party, to indulge." I spun, gesturing as if reenacting the sheer torment of it. "And I love indulgence, Annie. I am indulgence. But he? He is too much sometimes, even for me."
I let out a loud, dramatic sigh and collapsed onto the nearest couch. Like I was Atlas who had carried the burdens of the world on his broad, flawless shoulders. One arm flung across the back, the other over my forehead, the very picture of godly suffering. "And that, my dear Annie, is saying something."
I sprawled across the cushions, stretching like a cat, perfectly posed in my own exhaustion. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to nap. Heroically."
She snorted. "Drama king."
I cracked one eye open, smirking at her from beneath my arm. "Always."
She turned toward the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder, "I'm going to get some food. Do you want anything, Malvor, Warden of My Existence?" She even bowed, the cheeky little minx.
I grinned into the cushion. "Ooooh, I like that title. Say it again, slower." It was an excellent title for me. She rolled her eyes, vanishing into the kitchen. I chuckled to myself, closed my eyes, and sank into the sweetest, most deserved nap in history.