A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

His gaze touched mine. “I have plenty of enemies.”

My pulse kicked. “What have you done?”

“Why must I have done something?” he countered. “Maybe I’ve drawn the ire of others for refusing their demands or because I involved myself in their business. It’s a bit judgmental to assume that I did something wrong.”

My brows knitted, and I thought of what those gods he’d been following did. “I hate to admit this, but you do have a point.”

“Did it pain you greatly to admit that?”

“Yes,” I admitted. His gaze left mine, but his thumb still moved. How could he not realize what he was doing? He had to know, right? The digit was attached to his body. I opened my mouth—

“You’re about to ask if it has something to do with those gods I was following.” A wry humor filled his tone.

I frowned. “No.”

He glanced down at me again, raising a brow.

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Okay. I was. Is it because you are trying to find out why they are killing mortals?”

His laugh was soft. “It could be, but it’s not often that I’m in the mortal realm for any length of time, liessa,” he said, and my heart skipped in my chest in response to the nickname. “That alone would provoke the interest of others, and their interest is something I find greatly annoying. But I have refused and not allowed many things. I’m not sure I could pick just one. When the Hunters don’t immediately return to them, they will know that they did, indeed, find me.”

“It would seem rather reckless for the gods to spend their time seeking to provoke one another.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered.

I was.

His gaze flicked back to mine. “You do realize that you’re not a god, and you’ve risked doing more than just irritating me.”

My lips pursed as I looked across the lake. “Well,”—I drew out the word—“I have a bad habit of making poor decisions.”

Ash laughed, and it was a deep one—one that taunted the corners of my lips. I ignored it.

“Does it bother you?” Ash asked.

“What?” I inquired, unsure of what he was referencing.

His eyes met mine. “Me touching you.”

Well, that answered my unasked question. He knew exactly what his fingers were doing. “I…” I didn’t mind it at all. The touch felt wonderfully grounding, as if I were a part of something or someone. I didn’t realize that I was smiling until I noticed that Ash’s lips had parted, and he was staring at me again in that heavy way that centered in my stomach. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s a…novel feeling.”

“Novel feeling?” The half-grin returned. “A touch like this?” His fingers moved then, not just his thumb. He drew them up over my arm, curling them toward his palm, and a soft wake of shivers followed. “Is different to you?”

“It is.”

His stare changed, a slightly perplexed pinch to his brow forming. It occurred to me that someone casually touching one’s arm probably wasn’t a unique feeling to most.

The burn of embarrassment increased as my gaze flicked to the sky. “I mean, it’s all right. I don’t mind it.”

Ash didn’t respond, but his thumb continued, this time slowly sweeping up and down. The feel of his skin against mine was different, and it had nothing to do with him being a god.

As I lay there, trying to forget the awkwardness, I couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. From what I understood, Primals and gods aged like mortals until they reached eighteen to twenty years, and then their aging slowed to a crawl. Ash looked no older than Ezra or Tavius, the latter having just turned twenty-two. Gods tended to be on the younger side compared to Primals. “How old are you?”

He had returned to staring at the lake. “Older than I look, and probably younger than you think.”

My brows furrowed. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“Does it matter?” Ash countered. “Whether I’m a century old or a thousand years? I’ve still outlived anyone you know. My lifespan would still be incomprehensible to you or any mortal.”

Well, I guessed he was, in a way, right again. How many years he’d lived didn’t really matter when he would still appear only a few years older than me a hundred or more years from now.

I didn’t know what would’ve happened if I had become the Primal’s Consort. Would my aging have stopped thanks to some sort of Primal magic? I’d never really considered it because it hadn’t mattered when I would’ve died. It only mattered whether or not I succeeded at my duty.

I shifted my thoughts, not wanting to think about any of that. Not right now.

He looked down at me with eyes a swirling shade of quicksilver as his chin lowered. “What if I told you a secret?”

“A secret?”