I curled up beside her. Not touching, gods forbid I do something so obvious. But close enough that her warmth bled into me. I didn't think. Didn't analyze. I just… existed. Beside her. Two nights now. Two nights with her in my bed. And it felt like, well. Like home. That thought should've sent me spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis, complete with sarcasm and illusions for distraction. But instead I just breathed out slow, let my eyes drift shut, and matched the rhythm of her breathing.
"Sleep, Annie," I whispered, words swallowed by the dark. "I've got you."
For the first time in eons, I knew peace. I didn't remember falling asleep. Only her warmth pressed against me, her breath against my chest, the quiet, impossible calm of being next to someone who didn't need me to perform. Didn't need me to be god or trickster or monster. Just Malvor. Waking up beside Annie was… glorious.
When awareness crept back in, my instincts itched to move. To stir the silence with chaos. To conjure fireworks or illusions just to prove I was still me. But then her. She lay curled beside me, utterly unguarded. Breath slow. Lips parted. Soft. Real. I'd seen mortals, gods, even horrors sleep before. Never once did it hold my attention. But Annie? She was fascinating. There was no mask in her rest. No tightness in her jaw, no wariness in her brow. No expectation hovering over me like a blade. Just Annie. Existing. With me. As if it were natural. As if I wasn't chaos incarnate.
That thought… did something to me. Something I did not like. No. This was dangerous ground. This was intimacy. And intimacy bred feelings. And I? I was not built for feelings. I could practically hear my own voice mocking me. Oh, Malvor, are we catching mortal emotions? How very tragic. How very cliché. Still, I didn't move. Didn't break the moment. Didn't ruin it with a joke or a trick. Instead, I stayed. Watching. Memorizing the way morning light brushed over her skin, the subtle twitch of her fingers as dreams pulled her somewhere I couldn't follow, the steady rise and fall of her chest. It was glorious. And it was terrifying.
Reluctantly, I untangled myself from her. From us. Her body was curled around me like she belonged there, like this belonged. And damn it, I lingered. One hand through my hair, a sigh dragging itself out of me before I finally slipped away. The air felt colder without her. I ignored it. Pretended not to notice as I padded out of the room. By the time I returned, coffee in hand, she was stirring. Her eyes heavy with sleep, warm and soft against my sheets. Gods above and below, she looked like sin and salvation rolled into one. Of course, she smiled when she saw me.
"You made me coffee?"
I set the glass on the bedside table with a smirk. "Yes, Annie my Cherry Blossom. I made iced coffee."
She sipped, humming in satisfaction. "Perfect."
"Of course it is. I made it." Arms crossed, I leaned against the doorway, watching her like she was the only thing worth watching. But the moment her lips touched the glass, I couldn't help myself. I slid back into bed, pulled her against me like I was reclaiming something that was always mine. She fit against me too well, warm, sweet, floral, like she'd been crafted for this. For me.
We didn't speak. Didn't need to. The clink of ice in her glass, the steady rhythm of our breathing, the weight of her hand resting lightly on my chest, those were enough. By the time she finished her coffee, I was certain of one thing. I never wanted to let her go.
"Annie," I murmured, nose brushing her hair, "you smell like heaven."
Her head shifted against my chest, amusement in her voice. "I should. I just showered."
I kissed her shoulder, slow and lazy. "No, no, my sweet Annie, this isn't soap. This is you. It's divine. It's unfair, really. How am I supposed to focus on anything else when you smell like actual heaven?"
She chuckled, fingers absently tracing circles across my chest. "You are ridiculous."
"Ridiculously enchanted by you," I corrected, dragging her impossibly closer. "I might never recover."
She rolled her eyes, but that little smile gave her away. "Tragic."
"Oh, very tragic," I sighed, burying my face in her neck. "But if I must suffer, let me suffer here. Wrapped around you, basking in that unfairly perfect scent."
Her laugh was soft, sweet, dangerous. "Is this what you do all day? Lounge around, smell people, and make dramatic declarations?"
I gasped, scandalized. "I am personally offended. I am a very busy god."
She arched a brow. "Doing what, exactly?"
"…Important things," I tried.
"Uh-huh."
"Very important things."
Her lips twitched like she was indulging a ridiculous child. "Like sniffing me?"
"Especially sniffing you." My grin was shameless as I brushed my nose against hers. "In fact, I should bottle you. Eau de Annie: The Most Addictive Fragrance in Existence. I'll make a fortune."
She groaned, flopping back against the pillows. "I hate you."
"You adore me."
She side-eyed me. "I tolerate you."
"Oh, Annie, my radiant morning flower, your tolerance fills me with joy." I kissed her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her lips. Grinning when she leaned, just barely, into each one. "Shall I continue being insufferable, or do you want breakfast first?"
"Breakfast," she sighed. "Then you can continue being insufferable."
"A perfect plan!" I stole one last kiss before untangling myself. "Come, my Annie Cinnamon Roll. Let's feed you before you turn hangry."
This time the kiss I gave her wasn't playful. It was slow. Unhurried. A promise. Her lips lingered under mine, warm and yielding, and something dangerous curled between us.
"Tonight," I whispered against her mouth, voice rich as honey.
She didn't breathe. Not because she didn't want me. But because she wanted me too much. The fire in her eyes said everything. Her hand fisted in my shirt, silent confirmation. And gods, I nearly forgot breakfast altogether. But no, patience. Always sweeter when you wait. Make her want this. Give her time to suffer in the delicious agony.
"Breakfast first, Annie Love," I told her, finally pulling away, though it scraped something raw in me. "You'll need your strength."
I stretched like a king rising to face a glorious day, calling out, "Arbor, darling, let's prepare a very nutritious breakfast for our Annie."
The house flickered, pleased with itself.
Moments later, the kitchen filled with the scent of a meal fit for queens. Eggs, salmon, avocado, greens, grains, even a protein smoothie thick with berries and honey. I popped a grape into my mouth, grinning. "Oh, Arbor, you get me. Annie will definitely need this."
When I carried the tray back, she was stretching, the blanket slipping off one bare shoulder. Unfair. Utterly unfair. "Good morning, my strong, radiant, soon-to-be-exhausted Annie," I cooed, setting the tray down.
She eyed the meal suspiciously. "This is… responsible of you."
I gasped, clutching my chest. "Annie, I am always responsible."
Her look said otherwise. I plopped onto the bed, smirking. "Eat up, my lovely. You're going to need it."
She narrowed her eyes, lifting a forkful of salmon. "Are you fattening me up?"
"Fattening you up?" I gasped again. "Absolutely not! I am nourishing you. Cherishing you. Ensuring you'll have ample energy for…" I leaned close, breath hot at her ear, "…later." Her fork froze. Her blush didn't. Perfect. She's so beautiful. She makes it so easy to get under her skin. I sipped my coffee, grinning like the smug, satisfied, chaos-drenched bastard I was.
Annie ate every bite of her food. Every damn bite. Savoring it like she was starving, while I lounged back against the pillows, arms tucked behind my head, radiating smugness so thick it should've been illegal. Gods, I was pleased with myself. And then, because I am me and I can never leave well enough alone, I tested my luck.
"Oh, Annie, my good girl. Great job eating all that food."
Her fork froze. Mid-air. Slowly, painfully slowly, she set it down and turned those narrowed eyes on me.
"…Did you just... good girl me?"
I smirked, utterly unrepentant. "Yes. Did you like it?"
Silence. No retort. No sharp jab. Just… stillness. Oh, that was an answer if I'd ever seen one. She liked it. My grin spread wider, wicked as sin. I dropped my voice to a purr. "I read that in one of your books."
The groan she unleashed was magnificent, pure, unfiltered regret. She flung herself back into the pillows, face buried in her hands like she could disappear.
"Oh, Annie," I drawled, leaning closer, savoring the moment. "You did like it. Oh my gods. Oh me." I slapped a hand over my chest with an exaggerated gasp. "This is hilarious."
She groaned again, muffled nonsense. Music to my ears. I pressed in closer, my breath teasing her ear. "You can be my good girl any time."
A pillow slammed into my face. I fell back, laughing, dodging as another came flying. She groaned into the mattress, "I hate you."
"Oh no, my sweet Annie," I cooed, grinning like the bastard I am, shielding myself from her assaults. "You love me."
Another pillow whizzed past my head. But she didn't deny it. Wait... wait... She didn't deny it. My mind screeched to a halt. Replay, hyper-focus, maximum overdrive. The kind I usually save for elaborate pranks on Aerion. Did she just… not deny it?
My eyes snapped to her, still buried in pillows, clearly regretting her entire existence. My grin stretched slow, dangerous. "Annie."
A muffled groan. "Annie, darling." Nothing. "Oh Annie Peach Pie, you didn't deny it."
Sharp inhale. Stillness. "I knew you loved me!" I threw my arms wide, cackling in victory. "Arbor, did you hear that? She loves me!"
The lights flickered in gleeful celebration. Traitors.
Annie shot up, flushed, glaring. "I never said that!"
"Oh no, no, no, my love," I wagged a finger, drawl thick with triumph. "You had every opportunity to correct me, and yet, here we are." I gasped dramatically. "Do you think you love me, Annie? Because I think you do."
Her glare sharpened to murder. She grabbed my plate, shoved the last bite of food into my smug, open mouth. I choked, coughing on eggs and toast. Then, oh, the betrayal, she leaned in, eyes blazing, voice low and taunting. "Oh Malvor, my good boy, great job eating all your food."
I froze mid-chew. Swallowed hard. All smugness erased in one fatal strike. She patted my cheek with a devil's smirk, strutted out, leaving me stunned in her wake. Arbor flickered the lights in what was definitely laughter.
"Oh, she wants to play?" I muttered, wiping my mouth, pacing like a man possessed. My grin twisted between smug delight and sheer frustration. "Fine. This isn't over."
I jabbed a finger at the ceiling. "Arbor, I know I'm right." A single flicker. Neutral.
"Don't act like you didn't see that! She called me good boy! That was an attack. A strategic, well-aimed attack on my person." I stopped mid-step, pointing accusingly upward. "And worse? I liked it. Bloody hell, do I have a praise kink?"
Silence. "Don't you dare—"
A flicker. Mocking. I gasped. "That was an 'Oh, you like it' blink, wasn't it?!"
One long, smug blink. "Yes, I know I like it! That's not the point!" The lights dimmed in a very deliberate you are embarrassing yourself kind of way.
"Et tu, Arbor?" I flung an arm over my forehead, stumbling back in pure devastation. "Et tu?!"
Another flicker. Smug. Unmoved. I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Fine. But when I do get back in there, I'm going to be insufferable."
A slow, lazy blink. Unimpressed. My glare could have burned holes through the ceiling. Traitorous house. Traitorous woman. And gods help me, I loved them both for it.