Malvor leaned against the doorway like he owned the world, and me in it. Arms crossed, eyes raking over me with so much unholy delight I almost regretted this entire plan. Almost.
"Annie, Pantheon Princess, or should I say Prince?" he purred, voice wicked and low. "You have never looked better. Absolute perfection."
I raised one very dramatic Malvor brow. Gods, even my expressions betrayed me. "You are unwell."
He grinned like I'd just crowned him king of smug. "Possibly. But look at you." He circled me like a wolf admiring its reflection, humming under his breath. "That jawline. Those cheekbones. That chaotic glint in your eyes. Mmm. You were perfect."
"Because I looked like you?" I asked, delivering his own signature sneer right back at him.
"Exactly." He stopped in front of me and ran a finger down the center of my borrowed chest, humming like a man evaluating fine art. "I should really date me more often."
I smacked his hand away. "You are absolutely the worst."
"Yet here we are." He leaned closer, eyes glinting with menace and mischief. "Tell me, if I kissed you, would that count as narcissism, self-care, or a divine experience?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Try it, and I will bite you."
"Oooh, promise, Annie Beasty?"
I turned on my heel, coat flaring dramatically, his coat, his damn swagger, and stalked toward the library. He followed, of course, trailing after me like the world's most irritating puppy.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, practically vibrating. "You did not feel like me, you know. You moved differently. Fascinating. You were all—" he gestured vaguely, "restrained chaos instead of unhinged brilliance. Honestly, nine out of ten Malvor impressions. Would recommend."
"I will never stop regretting this decision," I muttered.
He flung himself onto a velvet chaise, one leg over the armrest like a deranged centerfold, grapes hovering conveniently into his hand courtesy of Arbor. "Annie," he sighed, voice molten silk, "I must be honest with you…"
"If this is about how good I look, I swear on every god above and below—"
"You have never looked sexier," he cut in reverently, hand over his chest. "This… this was art. I am art. But you, wearing me? That was performance art."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You are completely unwell."
"Emotionally, spiritually, sexually, yes. And right now? Extremely attracted to myself."
I spun away, the long coat swishing behind me. He gasped like I'd just given him life. "You even walked like me! Annie, you had the power swagger! I'm making you do a fashion show. Malvor: The Chaos Collection."
I jabbed a finger at him, my finger, his glove. "I will punch you hard in your beautiful smug face."
"Oh, please do. I like some pain with my pleasure."
Later that evening, I barricaded myself in the library. It didn't matter. Malvor burst in with two goblets of wine and a bottle tucked under his arm like the worst kind of suitor. "Annie, my dashing doppelgänger, allow me to seduce you, with you!"
"Leave me alone." I rubbed my temples trying to exercise him through the action.
He flopped beside me anyway. "This is self-care. Pamper yourself, which is me. Drink." He slid a goblet toward me. "It's aged chaos and regret with subtle notes of mischief."
I took it begrudgingly. "This is the dumbest moment of my life."
"Is it though?" He leaned in, inspecting my fake face far too closely. "Let me massage my shoulders. They looked tense."
"You're trying to seduce me with myself."
"Yes. And it is going incredibly well."
I raised a brow. "Do you want me to call you 'Daddy' while wearing your face?"
He clutched his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Annie. I am a god. Do not tempt me with such filth unless you intend to follow through."
I drained the glass in one gulp. "I hate this."
"I love this," he countered, eyes twinkling. "You were glowing."
"That was Arbor giving me a facial mask made of powdered stardust and bad decisions."
His grin widened until it could cut glass. "Annie, you glorious disaster, I've never been prouder. Shall we go ruin someone else's day now?"
"Only if I get to punch someone in your face."
"Deal."
We clinked glasses. Arbor's lights flickered once, long-suffering disdain, before dimming like they were done with us both.