She shrugged off her clothes with effortless grace, revealing a cute, fitted two-piece swimsuit beneath. Sunlight kissed her skin, highlighting the intricate network of runes etched along her body, his runes among them, glowing faintly like whispers of magic against her flesh.
"I'm going to swim," she announced casually, already stepping toward the pool.
Malvor only nodded, momentarily speechless. His eyes drank her in, every inch, every detail. It wasn't just desire. It was reverence.
She gave him a playful spin, letting him look. Being looked at was nothing new for her, but his gaze wasn't leering or greedy. It was quiet awe. Like she was something sacred.
"Annie, bellissima," he murmured, voice gone soft, "you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen."
She opened her mouth, an obvious retort forming, but he held up a hand, forestalling her.
"I'm serious," he added, gaze steady and warm. "You're beautiful inside and out."
She leaned in, slow and deliberate, and kissed him. A gentle, lingering kiss that said more than either of them could. He melted into it, into her. Her lips, her warmth, her everything.
He deepened the kiss, hand sliding to her hip as he tried to pull her into his lap, but she braced herself, not letting him.
"If I kiss you any more," she said breathlessly against his mouth, "or if you keep feeling this way, I won't swim at all."
He groaned like she'd stabbed him through the heart, throwing his head back in theatrical agony.
"Annie, Tesoro mio, you wound me again," he cried. "First with your beauty, now with your self-control!"
But then his head snapped up, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Fine. Go swim, you devastating enchantress," he said, flopping back onto the blanket with flair. "But just know, with every splash you make, I'll be here. Emotionally drowning without you."
He clutched his chest dramatically, already scheming ways to lure her back into his arms the moment she returned.
She stepped into the water with a small splash, the coolness wrapping around her like a second skin. It sent a delightful shiver through her, and she grinned, really grinned. Carefree, unburdened, radiant.
Malvor's breath caught. That grin, genuine and untouched by pain, hit him harder than any seduction ever could.
Without moving her lips, her voice slipped into his mind, playful and silken. Join me, Mally.
His eye twitched. Mally?
She sent nothing else. Just laughter. Pure, wicked laughter.
He sat straighter, glaring over his wine glass. Absolutely not, Annie. He thought it with full godly finality.
She did not argue. Did not respond at all. She simply disappeared beneath the water.
He frowned, leaning a little forward. "Annie?"
Then the melody hit him. It wasn't coming from the air. No, it was in his head, because she was putting it there. Some obnoxious, upbeat tune with lyrics she half-made up as she went.
"Malvor won't swim, what a sad little god, he's afraid of the water, oh what a fraud…"
"Annie," he growled aloud, clenching his jaw. "You are so lucky I—"
SMACK.
A wet splat hit him squarely in the face.
He froze. Slowly peeling the fabric off his cheek. Her swim bottoms.
Her. Swim. Bottoms.
His eyes blazed. "ANNIE!"
From behind the rocks at the far end of the pool, her laughter rang out, loud, unrepentant, absolutely devilish.
He didn't even have to think the words. She could already feel the chaos rising in him.
"Oh, you wanted a water war," he said, standing and starting to strip off his shirt. "Well then, Old Woman Annie, prepare for divine retribution."
Her gleeful shriek echoed across the villa as he dove in after her.
He surfaced just in time to see something flying toward him, her bikini top. He dodged it with a smooth lean to the side, the fabric barely brushing his cheek as it sailed past.
"Oh, you little menace," he growled, water cascading off his hair as he surged forward like a predator in his natural element.
She shrieked with laughter, twisting away from him and swimming fast, her legs kicking up gentle splashes.
Mally! she sent to his mind in a teasing sing-song.
"I swear, if you call me that one more time—"
Mally, Mally, Mally!
He roared with mock outrage, laughter cracking through the sound as he powered through the water after her.
She was fast, but he was faster. Gods, she was laughing. Really laughing. Giddy, bright, and entirely unguarded. The sound of it made his heart stutter in his chest.
"You are mine," he warned with a wicked grin. "No mortal has ever dared strike a god with swimwear and lived to tell the tale."
Catch me first, Mally!
His eyes narrowed. "You're dead, Annie. Dead."
Her giggles echoed off the villa's stone walls as she swam just out of reach, taunting him like only she could.
Gods, this woman. He had it bad.
She was maddening, laughing, wriggling, teasing like the chaos had always lived in her, not him. He lunged again, just barely missing her, water splashing over his shoulder.
But this time, when she kicked off the wall to dart away again, he caught her ankle.
"Got you," he growled.
She let out a breathless squeal, trying to pull free, but he only used her momentum to reel her in, dragging her through the water until her back pressed against the cool stone edge of the pool.
He moved in close, boxing her in. One hand beside her head. The other still holding her ankle beneath the surface. Her eyes sparkled, lips parted, breathing fast, not from fear, but thrill. He reached for her emotions, brushing the thread that now tied them together.
Comfort. Excitement. Anticipation. Want.
His grin turned wicked.