I try my best to control myself, but when the god also starts teasing my clit with his thumb, I end up clawing his back, and oh sweet Greek heavens, to hell with my wound—-
My body arches as I reach my peak, and as I start to shudder and cum, it's then I find myself crying out a word I have never used before—-
"Kyrios."
It's the Greek term for 'master', and it's what my heart has decided to call my god while I wait for him to trust me with his name.
Chapter Eighteen
I'm still trying to catch my breath when invisible arms lift me up, and a hard, unseen chest cradles my head. He obviously still means to hide his face from me, but I no longer find the thought hurtful or distressing. It's just what it is, and once I've made up my mind about wanting to make things work, I'm simply the type to focus on the bigger picture and let the minor details go.
He gave me his word that I'll eventually see him, and that's good enough for me.
But in the meantime...
A faint smile curves over my lips as I tap on his shoulder.
What is it, moraki mou?
"You can just ask me to close my eyes the next time, you know. I promise not to peek."
While I would normally trust you to keep your word, on that aspect,
allow me to borrow a very human response by saying...
Yeah right.
I burst into laughter, not at all offended since the god's assessment is absolutely...spot on. If there comes a time he'd need me to sacrifice my life for him, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But to not peek at his face if I'm suddenly given a chance to?
It's just like he said. Yeah right. The old me would probably be too nice to break her word, but since I'm all about Halyna taking care of Halyna now...
"You're lucky I'm no longer the type to sweat over the little things."
Indeed, I am.
"Like, really lucky," I make sure to stress. "Most other girls wouldn't be as understanding as I am about your conditions. They probably wouldn't even bother to wait for a chance to peek at your face. They'd scheme and—-"
There is no need to remind me of your worth, moraki mou.
I can feel him smiling as he speaks, which I find secretly cute, but then his lips touch my hair, and the cuteness factor is just way off the charts now. Gods are not supposed to be cute, dammit!
You are and will always be irreplaceable.
The words catch me off guard, and my heart flutters away even as I quickly bury my blushing face in his chest.
Did I embarrass you?
There's an unmistakable purr in his soundless voice, and my cheeks turn hotter as my mortification grows. "You must be an outcast among the other gods," I grumble under my breath. "Divine isn't supposed to be synonymous to sweet and nice!"
It was in my time.
Even though the god's voice feels entirely casual, I have a feeling there's more than a kernel of truth in his words, and I'm unable to contain my curiosity. "How old are you anyway?"
Why do you ask?
I still can't see him obviously, but the vibes I'm getting from his words has me struggling to keep a straight face. Who knew a god could actually feel so defensive about his age? "There's no need to keep it a secret. Age is just a number—-"
Then I can safely assume you will survive not knowing it.
This time, I'm no longer able to hold myself back from grinning. "Come on," I cajole. "Just tell me—-"
I plead the Fifth.
My grin widens. "You can't. You're not American."
I will be, when you marry me.
I sputter and choke, and the way I feel him smirking makes me beat his chest in a fit of irritation. I really hate it when—-
We're here.
It's the stone cabin from my dream of course, and I can't help feeling like a bride on her wedding night as he carries me over the threshold. Inside, it's even more enthralling than I remember, and..mm...the candles blazing from the chandelier seem scented this time, and I think that's roses of the Erotes perfuming the air.
The god takes me straight to the bedroom's en-suite, a luxurious abode with porcelain floors and a glass ceiling that allows moonlight to play around the dozens of candles floating in the air. Although the existence of this kind of magic is already a proven fact in the Post-3rd world, being able to glimpse it in action is still quite rare, and when I hear the lyre from the living room play on its own—-
Oh my gosh!
The candles actually start waltzing in synchrony, and I'm unable to keep myself from gasping and laughing.
You like it?
I throw my arms around his neck and give him a quick, hard hug. "I LOVE IT!"