A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

“Many surpass them,” he answered, and for a moment, I tried to imagine what that must look like.

And failed.

I fell quiet as I watched him toy with the strand of my hair, sort of awestruck that a god was sitting beside me, playing with my hair, teasing me.

“Shouldn’t you be home by now, safely and respectfully tucked away in your bed?” he asked.

“Probably.”

His gaze flickered over my face. “Then others must be looking for you.”

I laughed as I dragged my gaze from his. “They’re not.”

“Truly?” Doubt clouded his voice. “Because they believe you are already where you’re supposed to be?”

I nodded. “I’m very skilled at coming and going without notice.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

I cracked a grin.

“Is that a smile?” He leaned over, eyeing me far too intently to be serious. “It is. You’ve graced me with three of them now. Be still my heart.”

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “It must not take much to still your heart.”

“Apparently, it takes a mortal Princess,” he said. “One who roams haunted woods in the dead of night and swims gloriously naked in a lake.”

I chose to ignore the gloriously naked part. “Is it common for gods to sit and chat with mortals after spying upon them?”

He made that sound again, that deep and shadowy chuckle as he drew his thumb over my hair. I swore I felt that touch down my spine. “Primals and gods do all sorts of things with mortals after unintentionally crossing paths with them.”

My mind took what experience I had with “all sorts of things” and happily played around in the gutter with it.

His gaze flicked up from my hair, eyes a molten silver. “Especially with those we’ve had the pleasure of glimpsing all those unmentionable places.”

“Can we pretend as if that didn’t happen?”

His grin spread. “Are you really pretending that it didn’t?”

No. “Yes.”

Ash’s shoulders lifted in silent laughter.

“Are others as…?” I trailed off.

“What?”

It was hard to think of the right word. “Are others as kind as you?”

“Kind?” His head tilted. “I am not kind, liessa.”

The way he said liessa. It was indecent. “You have reacted far kinder to things most would’ve reacted to cruelly and without hesitation.”

“You mean when you stabbed me?” Ash clarified. “In the chest?”

I sighed. “Yes. Among other things. Are you going to say you only have one kind bone to go along with that one decent bone?”

“I would say that I have one decent, kind bone in my body when it comes to you, liessa.”

There was a snag in my breath. “Why?”

Silvery eyes met mine once again, the wisps of eather still. “I don’t know.” He let out a short, surprised laugh, his brows furrowing. “I don’t need to. Nothing would change from this moment, no matter if I left you upon waking or if I lingered longer. I don’t know. And that is an…interesting experience.”

What he said didn’t offend me because I wouldn’t have believed him if he had an entire list of reasons he was this strange with me. He was a god. Whether he lived hundreds of years or even longer, everything I knew could be contained in his palm. He was pure power given physical form, and there had to be countless beings in Iliseeum that were far more, well…everything than me. There were mortals far more intriguing and worthy of that one kind, decent bone in his body. And I didn’t mean that as a blow against myself. It was just the truth. I was unique because of what my forefather had done and that I had been born in a shroud and given a gift somehow and for some reason. Not because of anything I’d done with my life. The only understandable part was that he didn’t understand why we sat here.

“But there is something I do know.”

Curiosity rose. “What?”

“I want to kiss you, even though there is no reason for me to other than I want it.” The heated intensity of his stare held mine. “I would even go as far as to say I need to.”

A wild flutter started in my chest and quickly spread, much like that deadly flower of his that I reminded him of.

Did I want to kiss him?

I thought of when we’d kissed the night I’d first encountered the three gods, and the sharp, swift curl low in my stomach told me that, yes, I did. I was attracted to him on a visceral level that hadn’t been overshadowed by how infuriating he could be from one moment to the next, or the fact that he was a god—one who served the Primal of Death. Both of those things should extinguish any attraction I felt, especially the latter, but I couldn’t deny that he was the source of the flashes of warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment.