“On that, I agree.”
I reach over and take her hand, giving it a brief squeeze before tugging gently. “Come on. Let’s go feed the Horseman, so we have enough energy to clean out the stables. I’m going to need his help, since his horse is making most of the mess.”
Lila snorts as she pushes to her feet. “Well, big creatures tend to make big messes. Which brings up a rather important topic we haven’t discussed yet.”
I let her walk ahead of me as we head toward the back door. “And that is?”
She glances back over her shoulder, grin turning wicked. “That size matters.”
I sigh.
I lower my voice so immortal ears won’t overhear. “That is a conversation we will not be having anytime soon.”
She stops in the doorway and turns, wearing a look of righteous indignation. “Why the hell not?”
“Because…” The word stalls on my tongue.
Because I’m not certain I’ll be letting him into my bed again. Because speaking about it aloud—about him, about what it was like—feels far too intimate. Too revealing.
And because a part of me remembers it entirely too well.
“I’m not a child,” she says. “I mean, that’s obvious since I’m with child, and I didn’t get this way by plucking daisies.”
“It’s not that.” I shake my head, heat creeping into my cheeks despite the cool air drifting through the doorway. “It’s just…”
The words refuse to come. Some things feel different when they live quietly inside your own thoughts. Speaking them aloud somehow makes them… real. And I’m not ready for that. So I give her a stern look and scold, “I’m fairly certain the Horseman would object to being discussed like a breeding stallion.” I step through the doorway. “And unless you plan on interrogating the Horseman directly, that subject is closed.”
I move past her and into the house.
She calls after me, “I’m not above an interrogation. Just sayin’.”
Then, under her breath, “Maybe he’ll be more forthcoming. I could at least be allowed to live vicariously through you two, since I won’t be having sex anytime soon.”
The thought of Orán discussing such things with her makes my stomach knot in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
God help him if he does because I can guarantee that’s one tale he won’t live to tell again.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Hellion Returns
Kahill
With every bit of fire in my impure soul, I burn—fighting off the pulsing power of the old god. The inferno surrounding me is the only thing keeping it at bay as our powers clash in this dance for dominance. Wave after wave, I resist, gaining ground only to lose it again as time drags on.
It’s already stretched past the limits of my patience, and my power is starting to wane.
Knowing who I’m contending with would help, but I was absent the day they taught about this shit in Heaven, not giving a single fuck for a history that had no place in the future. A future where I’d be free to wreak havoc across the surface as if it were my playground.
And I wasn’t about to spout that nonsense in my sleep like Tíarnach. It was useless—or so I’d thought.
Now I have no idea what this god is capable of… or whether his power rivals mine.
It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
Sure, Sisyphus. Keep pushing that fucking boulder that hasn’t moved so much as an inch.
Shut. The. Fuck. Up, Lazreth. Let me focus.
