28. Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
His gaze shifted to mine, bright and unyielding. He held it long enough to render me speechless. “No, Little Seer. I’ve never needed such chains. Or distractions," he said, voice even. Finality in it.
Chains. Distractions. The words made my skin prickle. His mouth stayed in a straight line. He looked toward the black water. Its current was slow and merciless.
“No,” he repeated, quieter. “I have no half-born. No demigods. I’ve never sewn golden threads into the realms.”
I searched his profile, waiting for arrogance to return. It didn’t.
Yet.
“They call it legacy,” he went on, voice full of venom as he skipped a flat stone flawlessly across the rushing stream.
“A bloodline to tether worship long after shadows fade. But it’s only another leash the Fates sanction.
Breed armies. Breed heirs. Knot the Weave into your favor.
” His tone was harsh, gravel lacing it. “I’ve never needed it.
Never given them the satisfaction of playing their incessant games. ”
Something in my chest shifted. The words struck deeper than he let on, too sharp, too personal. “So you’ve…never—” Heat climbed my cheeks.
He cut me off with a humorless chuckle. “So curious.”
“I am not, I was simply continuing the conversation.” I snapped, the lie brittle even to my own ears.
“Good.” His gaze returned to the river. “Because the answer is simple. I’ll never sire pawns for a battlefield.
Never procreate with ascended goddesses to forge demigods.
If I tied myself to another, it wouldn’t be for soldiers or monuments.
It would be because I chose it. And that’s something the Godhead refuses to understand. ”
Thousands of years, and he’d never…chosen it. I shouldn’t have asked, but the question slipped anyway. “Have you ever…” my voice dipped low, like I was confessing something wicked. I looked away, unable to look him in the eye when I asked the question burning hotter than the rest. “Taken pleasure?”
His head snapped toward me, I could unfortunately still see the crooked grin slicing across his face, even from my peripheral.
“Obviously. I am a god, Little Seer. What do you think immortality looks like? Sitting around brooding by rivers for an eternity?” He waved a hand dismissively toward the endless current.
Heat made its way to my cheeks. I'd never been allowed to partake in any sort of pleasure. “Easy for you to say.” I tore my eyes away from him. “I don’t have the luxury. You can do whatever you want. I can’t. Divine eyes on me and all.”
Something like intrigue flickered in his eyes, gone before I could question it. Then unrestrained amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Oh, please. You burn hotter than you'll ever admit. I see it, even if you refuse to. You’ve read the books. You’ve imagined.”
“I have not,” I said through gritted teeth, diverting my eyes from his face once more. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, betraying me.
His chuckle slid under my skin. “You lie terribly, you know that?" He shook his head, far too entertained at my expense. "But I must admit, I enjoy it when you try.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you’re entertaining.” His eyes gleamed with the kind of delight that made me want to throttle him.
“Incorrigible,” I spat, breathless.
He leaned closer, shoulder brushing mine—too slight to be accidental. His voice was silk as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him. “Your books hand you stories—ink on a page. But not the feel of skin. Not the weight of breath. Not the raging inferno beneath it all.”
I stiffened. “And I’ll never know it.” My voice cracked. “Not ever.”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “That’s what really eats you alive, hmm? It isn’t that it’s forbidden. It’s that you’ve convinced yourself you’re incapable. You, who blazes brighter than any mortal I’ve ever met.”
Oh, goddess save me.
“You don’t know me, Tairngire.”
His chuckle took a dangerous lilt. “Oh, Little Seer. I know you’d rather bleed than admit I’m right. I know you’d rather I stop. But I won’t. I like watching you fight yourself.”
My heart thundered. I hated him for making me want to scream, to shove him away, and yet still want to close the gap between us.
I rolled my eyes. “So, tell me then, how is it you’ve never sired? Gods are reckless enough. Pleasure tends to…leave something behind.”
He regarded me with that amused look that I loathed. “Mortals may gamble with seed and chance. Gods do not. For us, it is will. A choice. To open the hand…” He held his hand open, then made a tight fist, “or to keep it closed.”
“And you’ve always kept it closed?” I pressed, traitorously curious.
His jaw worked, his other hand flexed and unflexed at his side. “Always.”
Something hot twisted in my chest. “Why?”
His stare was hard, steady. “Because no child should have to bear the weight of me.”
Tairngire’s runes pulsed faintly under his leathers, the truth rousing them. My breaths came out uneven, shock taking over at his intimate confession.
That damned chuckle surfaced again, soft and dark, dragging the moment back into his control. “Careful, Little Seer. Keep staring at me like that, and I might feel the need to rectify the fact that your books don’t teach you how to feel.”
I ignored that and narrowed my eyes, refusing to play his games. Because that's all it was. There was no undertone of seriousness in that statement.
None whatsoever.
“So what then? You’ve bedded mortals?” I said, picking up another rock and attempting to skip it the way Tairngire had and failed. Miserably. I scowled at the water as if it were the river's fault that I couldn't skip a flat stone.
His laugh came unexpectedly, thunder rolling over stone.
Oh, how I loathed that laugh.
He leaned closer, lips curving into the signature smirk. “Now that,” he said, voice still laced with laughter. “Would be a dangerous entanglement.”
I refused to let it go, still avoiding looking him directly in the eye. “Why? If you’re so untouchable, what difference would it make?”
He shifted beside me, and it almost felt…awkward. I pursed my lips, hiding a smile at the thought of the Forest God getting uncomfortable over a simple question.
He cleared his throat. “Because mortals…feel things I cannot reciprocate, and feelings leave marks. That’s a snare, Little Seer, and while other divines might recklessly step into snares, I don’t.”
Heat flared up my face. He looked unshakably pleased at my embarrassment over the subject matter.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re flushed. All this talk of fucking and you’re glowing like embers.”
My ears burned red. I’d never heard him use that word in such a way, and I despised the way his mouth curled around it. I had to tear my eyes away to gain composure.
“You sure do have a way with words.”
He only laughed again, softer this time, before clearing his throat once more. “Come then.”
From his belt he drew a dagger, mysterious looking runes etched along its blade. He spun it once, then held it out to me, hilt first. This one was leagues better than the one strapped at my thigh. I itched to know what the runes carved into it meant, I'd never seen ones quite like them before…
“You’ve had enough of books and beasts,” he said. “It’s time I show you something worth your time. How to properly use this. You and I”—that wicked smirk cut in—“we’re going to spar.”