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Turns out that we don't need to speak. Now that the topic of the gods has come up, the whole table's on fire with gossip. They all speculate about Tadekha's Citadel though none have actually ever seen it. They speculate if one of the other gods killed her and eventually it's decided that Kalos, God of Darkness, destroyed her because she turned down his advances many, many eons ago and he's apparently always held a grudge. Aron's totally silent so I have no idea if this is fact or not.
"There's another god on the coast, you know," someone at the far end of the table speaks up.
"Vor?" Another asks.
"No, different. Said he won't give his name but I know someone that saw him. My wife's sister was traveling back from Yshrem and saw him. Said he was as handsome as could be, took her breath fair away at the sight of him. Beautiful eyes, she said."
My skin prickles with awareness and I strain to hear the conversation. Aron's beautiful. Aron has striking eyes. It could be one of his Aspects that we're supposed to kill.
"Did she approach him?" Another person asks.
"No, he wouldn't speak to anyone. Had a female companion with him as anchor, but that was it. He wouldn't talk to anyone else. Didn't mingle. She said she wanted to talk to him and get a blessing, but she was afraid."
I nudge Aron's foot with mine, hoping he's listening. "Was he scarred up?" I ask. "Like, say, Aron of the Cleaver?"
This time, Aron kicks me hard.
The man turns to me, his lip curled. "Are ye daft? I said he was handsome. Aron's as hoary and grizzled as the lot of us, mark my word." He straightens and thumps his fist below his breast in the sign I've come to realize is one for Aron's followers. "The Lord of Storms won't be prancing around the countryside with a woman. He'll surround himself with the strongest of warriors and challenge them to fight him every day."
"My bad," I say quickly. "Maybe it was someone else."
"Probably Gental of the Family," the man speculates. "Though what he's doing in Yshrem is a mystery. Those book-loving weaklings are Riekki's followers to a one." He shrugs. "Even if they have a Cyclopae king now."
I eat some more of my stew, hoping the conversation continues on this line. I want to hear more about this beautiful god on the coast with a woman. After all, I'm with Aron, so they're wrong about a god like Aron not being with a chick.
And I personally think he's beautiful. A dick, sure, but downright gorgeous.
"It's the end of days," one greasy man laments.
Next to me, Aron snorts again.
Everyone at the table goes quiet. They're all watching us with far too much interest, and I figure it's now a good time to leave. "Think I'll see if this i
A big hand clamps down on my shoulder and I yelp, turning to see a pair of men behind me. My eyes go wide as the one with his hand on my shoulder grins down at me. He's at least six feet tall and massive, with a dirty beard and stumps of rotten teeth. "How much for your master to let us borrow you for a night?"
I try to shrug the guy's hand off as Aron gets to his feet. "I'm sure he'd say I'm not for sale—"
"Why don't you let him decide that, tart?"
Fuckin' tart. I'm really starting to hate that word.
Aron moves to my side and pats my back, as if to indicate all is well. He's still wearing the heavy cloak over his face, but I worry it's going to fall off if he beats the shit out of this guy for touching me, and then our cover will be blown.
"Master," I begin, but before I can say more, Aron puts his hand out, palm up.
The disgusting man grins at his buddy and then reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few coins, and places them in Aron's hand—
—or tries to. The moment his hand makes contact with Aron's, quick as a snake, the god's pale hand grips the other man's and twists it viciously. There's a crunch of bone that everyone in the i
It gets deathly quiet in the i
Aron studies the coins in his hand, then flings them to the ground. Then, he puts a hand firmly on my shoulder and squeezes. The possessive gesture isn't lost on anyone, even me. He's branding me as his property without so much as a word.
The stranger's friend hastily backs away, abandoning his buddy to roll around in pain on the straw-covered floor of the i
"Well," I say brightly, as if this is a normal sort of thing. "Where can a girl get her master a bath around here?" And I kick the guy that's down, just to show that I'm not afraid.
The room I share with Aron is small and grungy. We're given a greasy-smelling candle to serve as light, a pitcher of water to wash up, and a pile of blankets. The mattress itself looks like lumpy straw but it's not the ground, which makes it better than where I've slept for the last week. The room itself is about half the size of my bedroom at home, but there's a massive shuttered window that's open to let in a breeze. It'd be nice if Katharn itself didn't smell like a sewer and the view is that of the roof next door, which is so close I can practically touch it.
I'm still getting used to this world and how different it is from my own. I'm grateful to have this room, thanks to Omos's generosity with his funds, but I can't help but compare it to hotel rooms I've slept in back in my reality. Beggars can't be choosers, though, and when the i
—but as I turn around, I realize he's already undressing. Of course arrogant Aron would think he gets to go first. I should have expected that. I'm…not even mad, though? Because he tosses aside his cape and his tunic immediately and then I'm staring at a massive expanse of pale, perfect chest that looks as if it's carved from marble. It makes me feel curiously breathless, and I resist the urge to gawk. Fu
Of course, then Aron unbelts his pants and shoves them down, kicking them across the floor, and my mouth goes dry. He's completely hairless and as perfectly sculpted on top as he is on bottom. I remember touching him—vaguely, so vaguely—but seeing him naked again makes me get all flustered. His cock is thick and long and brushes against his thigh, and his muscles flex with his movements. He's huge. Definitely a show-er not a grow-er. I watch as he moves toward the tub in a few powerful strides and with a flex of his too-perfect butt, seats himself in the tiny tub.
Damn. I blink repeatedly, trying to focus my thoughts while the slow-motion reel in my head plays back his casual stride to the tub. Over and over and over again.
Aron settles into the tub, shifting his big body and splashing the water everywhere. He splashes a handful over his skin, rubbing it and completely ignoring me. After a moment, he looks over his shoulder at me. "Well?"
"Well what?" I snap out of my dick-fueled trance.
"Aren't you going to wash me?"
Wash him? Is he serious? As I gape at his back, he casts another impatient look over his shoulder, his arms resting on the edges of the wooden tub and I realize that yes, he is serious indeed. I get that I'm his servant—of a sort—but this is the first time he's demanded I actually serve him.
Maybe he doesn't know how to wash himself, my brain chimes in.
Maybe he wants you to touch him, my other body parts chime in.
I feel a hot flutter in my belly. Even if it's i
So I shrug my dirty cloak off and pull one of the two pitchers of water near me as I sit behind his tub. I'm so close to him that I can see the beads of water on his shoulders. I swallow hard and wet a cloth, then lightly swipe it over his shoulders. "So…what did you think of all that downstairs?"
He grunts, which isn't much of an answer. "I think they were more interested in how to get between your thighs than what's going on in the land."
I drag the cloth over his shoulders and then rub the cake of soap over his skin, since I need to make it look like I'm actually washing him and not just drooling over his physique. "I thought they had some interesting things to say. I mean, some of it was garbage but that thing about another god being to the east?"
"Mm. It's not enough to go on. It could be Gental, like they said." He gives his head a shake, his hair playing over my hands. "I have no wish to travel for weeks only to say hello to Gental."
I mentally count back through the laundry list of gods that Omos made me memorize. "Gental is…the sea?"
"Family. Home. Hearth."
Ah. "Yeah, I guess he's not one of your closest buddies."
"We have nothing in common." He leans forward so I can dip lower with the washcloth. And of course, now I'm noticing how much his hips taper, and how there's two dimples at the base of his spine where his glorious bubble of a butt rises. Damn it, Aron. I wonder if he's going to want me to wash his front, and I squeeze my thighs together tightly because my body likes that idea more than it should. "It's a lead, though."
"We need more leads before we go in pursuit of one. Travel is not cheap. We'll need mounts. Guides. Supplies. Yshrem is inland and it will be a long journey."
"My favorite," I say dryly, and then run my hand over his soapy shoulders. Shit. Why did I just do that? I make sure to use the washcloth for the next swipe, because I'm an idiot who can't stop thinking about touching this guy. It's just because he's so damn pretty. It's certainly not his wi
"It is as good a plan as any."
I continue to swipe the cloth over his shoulders and back, doing my best not to pay attention to just how well built he is. He's a god. Of course he's going to be well built. If I were a god, I'd make sure I had a kick-ass body too. No sense being a total slob. Still…he's a god of battle and thunder. Did he have to be so damn sexy? I bite back a stab of irritation and make my movements more brisk. There is no sense in being attracted to this guy. None.
Zero.