Chapter 10 Lore
TEN
Lore
I WAS SO shocked by his casual admission, I jerked back, finally tugging the dagger free like a true chosen one, and fell on my bare bottom.
The assassin didn’t seem to notice. He released a sigh of relief, then lay back, covering his wound with one hand.
His face was perfectly calm and peaceful, as if we didn’t just rip a blade from his chest and there wasn’t now a disturbing amount of blood pooling at his side.
Before I could scramble to grab some leaves or moss to stuff into his wound, the blood trickled to a stop.
A few seconds later, it completely vanished.
There was no mark, no scar, no indication he’d been injured at all.
If there was any question left about whether he was mortal, that just answered it. I don’t know why this surprised me.
After yesterday, my suspension of disbelief should have been more open. I should be used to the idea that magic was real, monsters roamed some worlds, and whatever Lord Stoic was… that was also real.
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked him over.
We would circle back to the whole goddess-who-looked-like-me-stabbing-him-and-turning-him-on story after we sorted a few important things out first.
“Well, I’d say it’s obvious you’re not human. You haven’t asked for my blood yet, so I’m assuming you’re not a vampire. But what, exactly, are you?”
He glanced up at the cavern’s ceiling and sighed.
“At the moment? I’m a little sore. And tired.”
I gave him a flat look. “Funny.”
“Glad you noticed.”
I grabbed his pants and threateningly held them over the fire. “These are now my hostages until you start talking, Blondie.”
“Burn them.” True amusement flickered in his eyes now. “You don’t need to manufacture an excuse to keep me naked, Peaches. I know you like it.”
I’d never been particularly good at lying, so I ignored his comment. He also seemed confident in his deduction, and I didn’t want to poke at it.
His focus drifted down my body.
Partly to divert my attention, but I suspected now that I wasn’t almost dead, he didn’t hate my lack of clothing either.
I highly doubted he’d looked at me anyway, other than in a strict medical assessment earlier.
There was nothing cool or detached in his expression now.
I was surprised something actually made him thaw, until I remembered I was standing there, scowling, without a stitch of clothing on.
It wasn’t my finest moment of intimidation tactics, but I had a wicked sense of false bravado that came in handy.
I gave him a haughty look and adopted my most unconcerned attitude as I flipped my tangled hair over my shoulder.
The perfect portrait of cool, calm, collected.
If I had pants on, they’d be in flames from the blatant lie.
I also realized too late that my hair had been keeping me partly covered. I acted like it wasn’t cold and certain parts of my body weren’t reacting accordingly.
His attention unapologetically roved over me again.
He was trying hard to distract me and he was doing a decent job of it, but—diamond-hard nips or not—I wouldn’t be deterred that easily.
I ignored the crackle of the fire, mocking me for the fact it wasn’t actually that cold in the cave, and my body might be reacting for very different reasons.
Namely, the brooding, sexy demigod staring at me.
I really, really needed to keep the portal stone tucked away. I glanced around. Speaking of the stone…
“Please tell me the portal stone is still in my dress pocket.”
“Why don’t you go check?”
His look dared me to bend over and rummage through my clothing. And that did terrible, terrible things to my imagination.
I focused on not thinking of any sexy stories now, lest the stone’s magic latch onto it and we started rolling around the cave floor like two wolf shifters in heat.
One side of his mouth quirked up like he’d read each of my thoughts.
Unless he’d also devoured the Moonlight Mistakes series, he had no idea.
And I’d prefer to keep it that way.
I tossed the pants at his smug face and grabbed my dress. Blessedly, it was dry. Even if it wasn’t, I would have put it back on anyway.
I quickly tugged it over my head and shimmied it over my hips.
I stuck my hand in my dress pocket and was relieved to feel the stone’s smooth surface. I swore it hummed a little in hello.
It was much better to have a serious discussion while properly clothed.
And after the increasingly weird events of the last twenty-four hours, it was high time we ironed out some facts.
If I was coming to terms with being on a quest in a new realm that hosted nightmares, I needed to establish some framework.
I pulled my stockings on and quickly donned my boots, feeling warm from head to toe for the first time since we’d been ripped from Bellington.
I fluffed my skirt out and faced my companion.
The assassin had gotten up so silently, I hadn’t realized he’d moved, let alone already finished getting dressed.
At least he wasn’t trying to convince me he was mortal.
Though, after surviving a dagger and being impaled by a spider all within twenty-four hours, that would prove rather difficult.
He’d also turned his back, giving me privacy, which was both cute and absurd since he’d not only seen me in all my glory but held me in it for hours.
I was positive he felt my attention on him, but he was lacing up the front of his tunic like it held the answers to every question in the universe and he was a curious student taking notes.
Typical avoidance technique.
I admired him and his futile effort for a minute before getting back to the matter at hand. I wouldn’t leave this cave until I had some answers.
“If you and I are going to be stuck together, I have a right to know what you are.”
He turned around, a frown tugging at his lips. He was quiet for so long I started to worry that the dagger had hurt him more than he’d let on.
I raised my brows, and he finally relented.
“I am a male who will ensure your survival and return you safely to your home and family. I will kill or maim anyone or anything that attempts to harm you. And I’ll stand by your side, through any nightmare that comes your way, and remain until it fades. Can’t that be enough?”
My brows must have hit my hairline now. That was… intense.
Be still my fiction-loving heart.
If only life could be so simple.
I reached over and awkwardly patted his shoulder.
“Let’s just start small, Blondie. I need to know who you really are, where you came from. We can discuss maiming my enemies later.”
Mostly I wanted to rule out if he wanted to eat my aforementioned heart or drain my blood, or whatever other nefarious acts villains in my favorite books did.
He might have kept me alive, but I still didn’t trust him. I suspected whatever his goal was, whatever he was after, he needed me in one piece.
“I’d rather keep things uncomplicated between us,” he countered. “I’ll be your guardian. You’ll be my charge. Simple. Efficient.”
I glanced down at the dagger he’d returned to the sheath on his hip.
Perhaps if I stabbed him, he’d be more agreeable.
“I want to trust you,” I said, wrenching my focus back to his face, “but I can’t do that until I know more about you. If I’m constantly thinking you’re a vampire, or weregod, things won’t be simple or efficient.”
He didn’t seem wholly convinced.
Or maybe he was puzzling out the meaning of weregod.
I decided to go with my big finish.
“This might come as a shock, but I’ve read some interesting fiction and if I was able to bring one of the books I read to life with the portal stone, things are going to get much more complicated from here. Especially if I’m focused on figuring you out.”
That seemed to do the trick.
I could almost see him replaying the goblin cannibal situation and then amplifying it by a thousand.
He’d still be off. I read a lot of disturbingly fun fiction.
“Very well.” His icy gaze clashed with mine, almost in a dare. “I am known as the Prince of Sloth.”
Silence followed his statement as I processed what he’d admitted.
Everyone in Bellington heard the stories of the Wicked. They were just tall tales, mere myths and legends we entertained ourselves with.
Or so we’d all believed.
Standing before me, that cold, hard stare still fixed to mine, he was very real. And not at all what I’d imagined when I’d listened to those stories as I was growing up.
How foolish I’d been to think he’d be lazy or apathetic. Or that he’d somehow look ancient. He appeared no older than thirty.
My mind spun with facts.
There were seven immortal princes who ruled seven courts of sin.
They called themselves brothers but there was no proof they were blood related or even had been born.
When I was younger, I’d been fascinated by them, researching as much as I could.
Though, admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of information available.
No one was really sure what they were, but there were plenty of rumors.
I swallowed hard. “You’re one of the Wicked.”
He inclined his head but remained silent, letting that sink in.
Blood and bones. My assassin protector was truly Prince Sloth.
Not much was known of him or his court, which, having now met him, I knew was by design. Prince Lust toyed with pleasure on all levels.
Prince Wrath stoked warlike emotions like anger and aggression; Prince Envy liked games that manifested his sin of choice.
Greed had infamous gambling dens to fuel his magic, Gluttony indulged in all manner of debauchery, and Pride had a gilded court rumored to have a hall of mirrors that allowed his courtiers to feed his sin with their vanity.
But Prince Sloth… I wasn’t sure how his sin worked.
Whispers suggested that his power came from books and that his castle was a giant library. I’d dreamed of seeing it but had never been sure if it was even real.
Being an enigma among his brothers gave him an advantage—if someone didn’t have readily available information on his court, they couldn’t plot or plan a strategic attack.
Because of that, he might just be the most frightening of all seven princes.
And I’d been contemplating petting him like a cat earlier.
“What are you?” I repeated.
He expelled a long breath.
“Mortals always ask the wrong questions. Who are you, where did you come from, where are your families. They cannot accept some beings simply are. Not born but created. Our past is of no concern for the present or the future.”
Finding out he was manifested into being, fully adult from the sound of it, was a lot to absorb on an empty stomach.
“But you did come from the Great Beyond, correct?”
His eyes twinkled. “If that’s your belief, yes.”
“Are you saying there is no such place?”
“I’m saying most realms believe in a location like the Great Beyond. Some call it heaven. Others say it’s a place called Valhalla. Whenever there are similar stories spread throughout regions and cultures, there’s usually a grain of truth to it. Some texts would say it’s simply a higher frequency.”
“You’re demons, though.”
“Are we?”
“If you’re a fallen angel, then history would call you a demon. Are you claiming you’re not?”
He gave me a look long.
“We’re whatever mortals need us to be. My brothers and I have taken to calling ourselves demon princes because that is what the majority believe, so it lends an air of truth we can utilize.
But I can promise you that demon blood doesn’t run through my veins.
Once upon a time, we were considered heroes. ”
I snorted. Fine. He might not technically be a demon since he was created as an angel and I imagined that didn’t change on a molecular level, but it was a nebulous gray area he was dancing around.
“I’m pretty sure all the folktales agree that you and your brothers are fallen angels. And are deceivers.”
Which made them the ultimate villains.
He took a step closer. “Do I really look like someone who fell? Or do I strike you as someone who has a duty to uphold?”
My gaze narrowed in disbelief. “You have a job?”
“In a sense. We are to the Underworld what wardens are to prisoners.”
“Meaning?”
“Do you put other criminals in charge of keeping the peace in jail?”
“So someone had to hire you for the position.”
He snorted. “We all answer to a higher source at some point, Lore.”
My brows tugged together.
What he was saying made perfect sense, but it twisted everything I’d read or heard about them.
They were the Wicked, soulless immortals so wretched they were kicked out of the Great Beyond. Enemies of all that is good and holy.
“But you’re a Prince of Sin. And you do engage with your court. You need them and their sins to fuel your magic. Hence the whole Wicked thing.”
His smile was positively filthy. Now he stepped close enough for me to breathe in his scent; leather, parchment, and something spicy.
It was like being curled up by a crackling fire with a favorite book. I resisted the urge to bury my face in his chest and breathe it in again.
“And why does that fact make your pulse race faster, Peaches?”
Because I clearly had some personal issues I needed to work out.
I inhaled deeply, ignoring the devilish gleam in his eyes that spelled disaster for me. I’d heard it only took one kiss to become addicted to the Wicked forever.
Somehow, out of all the rumors and stories, I believed that one to be true. Now, more than ever, I needed to keep a careful distance between us.
I gave him a dubious look.
“You don’t expect me to go around calling you Your Highness or bending the knee to your court, now, do you?”
His laugh was a most unexpected delight.
“You’re welcome to get on your knees whenever you like. But I’d prefer if you called me Lo while we’re here.”
Ignoring his innuendo for the time being because oh, my gods, having Prince Iceman Sloth thaw enough to flirt was as magical as having a jaguar playfully roll over and offer its belly for a rub. I considered his name.
There was nothing wrong with it, but it simply wouldn’t do.
From what I’d read, the princes rarely gave out their true names, so I’d keep calling him Lord Stoic or Sloth until I figured something else out.
We couldn’t be Lo and Lore and risk being known the realms over as LoLo.
There was nothing fearsome or wicked about that moniker, and the scandal sheets would be relentless if they ever caught wind of it.
“I’m surprised you don’t use Akedia. Or something like Cassiel. Is Lo shortened from Sloth or Harlow?”
The humor vanished from his features at once.
One minute he was standing beside me, the next he’d caged me against the cave wall, his blade kissing my throat.
It glowed like a fallen star.
Holy gods. My heart pounded a violent beat.
The prince had gone from harmless flirt to supreme predator faster than I could blink.
And I had no idea what had happened to cause such a dramatic shift.
His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t decipher as he leaned in.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.