Annie broke the silence, her voice gentle, steady, like she knew I was about to spiral. "Where are your favorite beaches?"
Ah. Annie asking the right questions. I exhaled, rolling my shoulders like I could shake off the stone pressing into my chest. "My darling Annie, you ask the right questions."
I let my head tip back against the chair, staring at the fake sky I'd crafted, searching memory. "The white sands of the Maldives. The water's so clear you can see the ocean floor under your feet." A pause. A darker hum in my voice. "The black sand beaches of Reynisfjara. Iceland. Cold. Violent. Absolutely breathtaking. A place you could disappear into the waves and never be found."
I felt her watching me. I didn't look. Just kept talking. "The hidden beaches in the Philippines. Ones mortals don't know about. Where the jungle kisses the ocean. Feels untouched. Pure." Finally, I glanced at her, my eyes catching hers. "But if we're talking memories… there's a stretch of rock and sand in Greece. No name. No map. Just mine. The water's perfect. The wind is always warm. And at night, the sky is so clear you feel like you could fall into it."
My lips twitched. Not a smirk. Not a frown. Something in between. "Haven't been back in a long time." I stretched, forcing levity back into my tone. "But I could make an exception. If you'd want to see it."
I didn't expect her answer. Not like this."I want to go to the beach with you."
I stilled.
"I would love to go to the beach with you." No obligation. No performance. She meant it. She wanted to. And something inside me tightened, warm. Infuriatingly warm.
"Annie," I heard myself say, softer than I meant, "I want to take you to the beach. I want to take you everywhere. You deserve to see the world for good reasons."
She smiled. And I felt it. Gods, I felt it. Then she ruined me. "Sometimes, Mally, I think you're a good guy."
I winced like she'd thrown acid at me. "Ugh. Annie. Disgusting. Take it back."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Nope. Too late."
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face like I could wipe away the sincerity. "Gods above, I need to commit heinous mischief immediately to undo this."
"Too bad." She sipped her drink. "You already promised me the beach. No mischief today, Mally."
I gasped. "Annie, you monster."
Her laugh, bright, unguarded, cracked me open. That laugh had become my favorite sound, the kind I wanted to hoard. Real. Alive. Not a mask. Not the hardened survivor. Her. Just her. And gods, I wanted more. Then she caught me staring.
Not with my usual smirk. Not with a tease ready on my tongue. Just me. Watching her. And when her breath hitched, when she swallowed, oh, yes. Yes, she felt it too. The heat, the pull between us. My fingers twitched. My throat tightened. The way she looked at me… it was dangerous. But dangerous was my middle name. Malvor Danger Theóskakó. And the way she was watching me now? Breathtaking. Spellbinding.
Her gaze drifted over me. My stupid outfit, tousled hair, living tattoos. I'd meant it to annoy her, to fluster her. But gods, the way she looked at me… I knew it was working. Doing things to her. The silence stretched. Crackled. Heavy with everything unspoken. Someone had to move first. She inhaled sharply. That was enough.
I moved, but only a breath. Only a lean closer before her hands shot up, tangling in my hair, pulling me down into her. Our mouths crashed. No hesitation. No games. Just heat. My hands gripped her waist, strong, claiming. She kissed me hard, no polish, no practiced seduction. Just need. Her need. And gods, it gutted me.
I kissed her back like I'd been starving. Open, searching, devouring. A low sound rumbled out of me, unbidden. My tattoos flickered with the rush, light sparking beneath her fingers. Her nails scraped my scalp and I groaned, tilting, deepening, demanding. Tongues tangled. Teeth grazed. It was messy. Urgent. Hungry. And it was perfect. I pulled her closer, needing her flush against me, like I could pull her into my skin if I just tried hard enough. She clutched at me, fisting my shirt like she couldn't decide whether to tear it off or drag me deeper. Maybe both.
My tongue traced her bottom lip, taking more, always more. She yielded. And it turned hotter, deeper, a war of want neither of us intended to surrender. Her hands roamed, exploring tattoos, muscle, heat. My growl came rough and low when her nails scraped down my chest. My grip tightened, her waist, her thighs, her back. I didn't know where to touch first, so I touched everywhere. She wanted me. She wanted this. So did I.
Gods, our mouths never stopped. Hungry. Messy. Perfect. She kissed like she needed me, and hells, I matched her. Every drag of her hands across my skin made me shudder, made me want to crawl inside her and never leave. She ripped my shirt off like it was nothing, and for one delirious moment I thought, ah, finally, someone who appreciates efficiency.
Flawless. That's what I was. Every inch of me, and I knew it. Broad shoulders, stomach ridges sharp enough to cut, tattoos alive and restless beneath her touch. Lightning veins flashing when she traced them. The trickster's mask at my collarbone shifting with every pulse, grinning when I groaned. Her hands worshiped me. Mine, mine devoured her. Dress gone. Shorts gone. She sat before me in bra and panties, undone and divine. My hands mapped her, waist, stomach, hips, hers. My mouth dipped lower, brushing over the runes carved into her ribs. My runes. Delicate chaos etched into her body long before she ever belonged to me. And yet when my lips traced them, when my teeth grazed the grooves, it felt like a claim. A curse. A truth.
"Annie," I whispered against her skin, again, again. Her name became prayer, mantra, curse and salvation. My Annie. My beautiful Annie. Each time I said it, she melted more, coming undone beneath me. No one had ever said her name like this, and gods, the way it made her tremble. I was unraveling. She was unraveling.
Our hips rocked, desperate. Greedy. Her nails dug into me, and I wanted to drown in it. In her. Until she breathed my name, Malvor, and something inside me cracked wide open. I kissed her harder. Deeper. Devouring. Hands roaming, chest, waist, ribs, her ribs. The runes there. My mark. My chaos carved into her. I pressed my hand against them like I could feel more than flesh, like I could reach into her soul through those lines.
She stiffened. The warmth shattered. She tore herself away, curling in on herself, arms wrapped tight around her body. Guarded again. The loss hit like cold water. "Annie?" My voice, soft. Too soft. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Gods above, me? Apologizing?
She shook her head, wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't want you to want me because you're pulled to me. To my runes."
Dense. Brilliant. Beautifully dense woman. I exhaled hard, dragging a hand through my hair. "Annie," I huffed. "I don't give a damn about your runes. I care about you."
Oh, bloody flaming hells, I said it. Out loud. Her eyes snapped to mine. Blue, wide, shining, tears. Unscheduled, unexpected tears. Something in me cracked. Sunk. Her tears were worse than any blade. My voice dropped to a whisper. "Annie… I care about you."
She just stared. Raw. Unmasked. No smirk. No shield. Nothing between us. I for once, me, the God of Chaos, the breaker of rules, the one who stared down kings and armies without blinking. I squirmed. Because this wasn't her seeing the god. The chaos. The illusions. This was her seeing me.