Chapter 14: How To Seduce a Mortal in 7 Chaotic Steps (His POV)
Fine. Fine. What obnoxious, irresistible thing could I do to her today? Swimming had been hilarious. Her outrage, her refusal to look at me like I was some forbidden painting of temptation. But then… the kiss. Gods above and below, that kiss. She had kissed me. Not out of duty. Not out of routine. But because she had wanted to. I needed that again. The problem was, how?
I stroked my chin, pacing the kitchen like a general plotting a campaign. I needed a grand gesture. Something dramatic enough to irritate her, charming enough to make her slip.
Ideas:
Option one: Candlelit dinner. Absurd amounts of candles. Fire hazard levels. Bonus points if I pretend it was her idea.
Option two: A scavenger hunt. Lead her to me striking a pose with a rose clenched between my teeth. Romantic. Ridiculous. Very me.
Option three: Poetry. Gods-awful, swooning, dramatic poetry. In six languages, just to prove I could.
Option four: Ballroom dance. Snap. Music, chandeliers, tuxedo. I hold out my hand like a smug bastard. She'd hate it. Perfect.
Option five: Jealousy. Who though? Luxor? Too funny. Yara? Risky. Maybe flirt with everyone else and see if Annie notices.
Option six: Kidnapping, but romantic. Steal her away to some hidden pocket of my realm, whisper nonsense until she admits she likes being there.
Option seven: Just tell her I want her. Direct. Honest. Sincere.
um... excuse you? My super power brain... what was that last option? Absolutely not. I'd rather explode. I needed just enough annoyance to bait her into kissing me again. Decisions, decisions. I grinned, cracking my knuckles. "Alright, Arbor, my chaos house, what are Annie's favorite books?"
With a soft whoosh, a pile of novels appeared. I flipped through them. Masked stalker. Broody fae prince. Another fae prince. Mafia man. Dragon rider. All tall. All tattooed. All dark and brooding. Predictable. I studied myself in a mirror I snapped into existence. "Tattoos," I muttered. Easy.
Lightning veins split down my arms. A trickster's mask glared and smirked over my collarbone. Sigils rearranged themselves across my back. Tiny watchful eyes blinked on my hands. The broken chain shifted restlessly along my skin, sometimes whole, sometimes shattered. The tether. The reminder. It was always there. I just never let anyone see it. Until now. Now I let it pass for ornament. I rolled my shoulders, smirking. "Alright, my literary goddess, let's see if I can be your type."
Arbor's lights flickered. The mirror warped, then snapped back. The floor creaked. Judging me.
I scowled. "Betrayal."
The chandelier dimmed, mocking. "More brooding? A deeper scowl? Should I whisper about my dark past?"
The fireplace flared. Then dimmed. "Oh, now you're mocking me."
The windows rattled. Laughter. "Don't forget, I built you!"
The chandelier flickered like it didn't believe me for a second. Fine. Time for the ultimate cosplay. Snap. Outfit change. Black Henley, tight enough to be sinful. Sleeves pushed up, forearms veined like I'd just crawled out of some mortal gym ad. Dark pants, boots heavy enough to scream "emotional turmoil." Leather cuff. Silver ring. Tousled hair.
The fireplace crackled in laughter. "Shut up," I muttered. "This is sexy."
The chandelier blinked twice. Doubt. "Alright, alright, predictable."
A chair leg rattled in agreement. "Whatever. She'll still drool."
A door slammed somewhere in the distance. "Yes, that's a yes. Thank you."
I admired myself again. Something was missing. Arbor knew it. The fireplace dimmed, then flared, and a silver chain necklace appeared on the table. "A necklace? Really?"
Floor creak: Yes. I sighed, clasping it around my throat. Candles flared up dramatically. Approval. I smirked at my reflection. "Ridiculous," I admitted. Then grinned. "But in a good way."
The chandelier flickered again, laughing at me. I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Time to go ruin Annie's morning."
I pranced into the "beach" space like sin incarnate. Broody masculinity wrapped in perfection. Annie was sprawled in a chair, legs crossed, sundress flowing, sunglasses perched like she was mortal royalty on holiday. Sunlight, my sunlight, fake but flawless, caught in her hair, making her glow. She looked content. Happy. Shame. I'm going to ruin that. I cut in front of her with deliberate flair, posture all power, purpose, tortured masculinity. She didn't even blink. Just slid a finger into her book, raised a brow, lips twitching at the corners. That tiny smirk? Fuel. Encouragement.
Her gaze dragged over me, slow, deliberate. Tattoos. Muscles. The too-tight Henley. Boots. Rings. And oh, that flicker in her eyes. Yes, yes, she liked what she saw. That was her checking me out. She tried so hard to look back up at me, unimpressed. "Did you come up with this look on your own?"
I grinned, running a hand through my hair like a man in his own slow-motion montage. "No. Arbor helped."
The overhead lights flickered sharply. Betrayal. Annie chuckled, lifting her face toward the ceiling. "Arbor? I've just been calling it House. Nice to meet you, Arbor."
The fireplace sparked warmly. Approval. "Enough about the damned house," I huffed. "How do I look?"
She exhaled through her nose, lips twitching. "I want to lie."
The smirk slipped. I leaned closer, voice low, sharp. "Annie. Never lie to me."
She studied me. Nodded once. "I promise. Never."
Silence. Just us. Then, with a sigh, she tilted her head, reluctant admiration in her eyes. "You look perfect. Like a thirst trap come to life."
My grin came back instantly. "Oh, Annie, you flatter me."
"Don't get used to it." She lifted her book again.
"Annie," I whined, leaning in like a child denied dessert. She ignored me. Turned a page. "Annieeee." I flopped into the chair beside her with expert dramatics. "We could spend all day at the beach here. Have you ever been to the beach?"
"Yes. I was maybe fourteen."
Fourteen? My brows shot up. "Where? When? Why? Tell me everything."
She sighed, lowering her book. "As part of my rune process. I traveled to each Pantheon temple. When I was thirteen, I went to Vitaria's temple. There are a lot of beaches in Greece."
Something tightened in my chest. "Why thirteen?"
She hesitated. Then lifted her dress hem just enough to reveal matching blue shorts beneath, her stomach bared, intricate runes curling across her skin, sinking lower. I stilled.
"I became a woman that year," she said flatly. "For blessings. Fertility. Vitaria's blessing." Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "More like they took my ability to have children."
My body tensed, every muscle ready to snap. "They what?" My voice was quiet, soft with rage.
She met my gaze, calm. Unshaken. "Pregnancy would've ruined my work. So my fertility was given as a gift." A gift. Her body, carved and claimed like it wasn't hers. My fingers curled tight on the chair.
"The process took just over a year," she went on. "One night, after a long session, a priestess-in-training snuck me out. My pretty prison. She took me to the beach. It was beautiful. Took my mind off the pain. We watched the sunrise together." Her lips twitched faintly. "They sacrificed her the next day."
My breath caught. Annie leaned back, casual, like she was recounting weather. "I don't know where she ended up. Probably a disposable plaything. A burnt sacrifice. Or a blood offering."
The air around me crackled. My voice slipped out before I could stop it. "That was their reward for kindness?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
"I'm sorry, Annie." Gods, the words. My own mouth betrayed me. When had I ever apologized for anything? She turned, curious. Silent.
"You didn't deserve any of that," I said, voice rough. "Or any of this."
I gestured vaguely, her, me, this whole damned mess. She just watched. Too calm. Too knowing. And it struck me. She deserved better. Better than chains. Better than the temples. Better than me. And that thought sat heavy in my chest, an anchor I couldn't charm away. 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. 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. 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. 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.