irritated. He looked like a modern day man, the type that she was unused to. The silky, carefully-crafted hairstyle he sported reminded her of something she had seen from a billboard once.
But were Fire Gods so human like? Or so handsome? There weren’t accurate descriptions of them because usually the women who saw them were dead. So once he killed her, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone how impressive he was.
The thought was not exactly comforting. Wasn’t he supposed to cook her flesh in the magma currently sliding off the mountains? Why would he prefer her in what looked like a gutted apartment?
She wasn’t sure if it was proper answer him, but since he had addressed her directly she cleared her throat. “Yes.” Her English was heavily accented, but not garbled like a lot of her pack members. “I am alive.”
The God’s shoulders sank slightly. “Good. You were scaring the shit out of me.”
She scared him ? Isidora frowned. “I’m sorry. But, how do I scare?”
His voice was clipped with annoyance, as if she should have known how. “You weren’t moving. For, like, an entire day. I thought that your suicide attempt had succeeded.” He arched a brow at her. “That is what that was, right? I mean, you’re a bandit. From what I remember, you creatures have amazing speed. You could have swum to the other side of the shore in sixty seconds. But you didn’t even try.”
“Um. You mean to say, I could have left?” This confused her even more.
“What were you thinking? Hell, you’re lucky that I was around. Otherwise… well, you wouldn’t be.”
This conversation was making her head spin. “Cherufe? You make no sense.”
He crossed the room to stand closer to her. “What aren’t you understanding?”
“I thought that you wanted me there.”
The Fire God’s eyebrows were very good with that arching thing. He could do it with both sides. It was almost comical. “Why in the fuck would you think that?” he hissed. “That was a goddamn volcano! I mean, for chrissake, lady. You do know what a volcano is, don’t you?”
Isidora sat up. “What? But, Cherufe…”
“ And why do you keep calling me that? ”
“You were supposed to accept my tribute,” she accused. “And you refused? Why do you do this? Did my pack anger you?”
“I’m starting to think that you were expecting someone else.” He stared deep into her eyes.
She flinched as if he were touching her, his stare was so intense. “Listen. If you did not accept my tribute, another Cherufe could have done so. Don’t you understand?”
“I cannot say that I do.” He still stared at her, squinting and turning his head slowly in different angles as if trying to decipher a secret code.
“So…” she said slowly. “You should have left me there.”
He instantly jerked back. “And you’re telling me that you really wanted this?”
No. Isidora shook the denial away and avoided his gaze
“You’re telling me that your pack wanted you to die there? For some weird ‘tribute’?” The last word was said within air quotes.
“I am but part of a bigger whole. The pack’s need for survival surpasses the need for mine—”
“Horse shit. It wasn’t the pack dying out there, it was you. Doesn’t that thought plague your pretty, stupid head?”
Isidora fumed. “You are no Cherufe!”
“Not even close, lady.”
“I was meant for Cherufe!” She waved her hands in the air in the throes of vexation. “I was left to appease him so that he could stop the earthquakes and destruction!”
“…and I suppose your alpha told you this? That some big foot was going to sweep you up in exchange for the eruption?”
“Yes!”
“Why didn’t your priest or warlord stop him instead?” he asked.
“Only a woman can sate Cherufe,” she explained.
“How convenient for your alpha.”
“Who are you?”
He reared his head back. “Hi. I’m the guy who saved your ass. You can call me Cris.”
NOTHING GOT CRISTIS’S BLOOD