kind that was present between them. No, this was a sexual tension. It was lust, desire – and any other word that could be used to describe the fact that Dana wanted to scratch him up. And maybe bite him a little too, she mused, her mouth kicking up at the corners. Mordecai’s frown deepened and he swore, marching over to a bench where he hastily pulled on his discarded shirt. To say she was disappointed would be an understatement. So, instead of starting the conversation in a mature way that could lead to a thoughtful discussion, she blurted out; “I do not know why you are bothering with a shirt. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Mordecai’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “One night with me fifty years ago isn’t enough for you to know anything about my body, oh Great Mother. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“And you suppose I’m referring to that night? And not all the nights since then?” Dana baited.
Mordecai strode over, his long legs eating up the distance in seconds. “So, you admit to spying on me? I knew it! I knew I could feel eyes on me! Have you been watching me all these years? Like some kind of goddess-pervert?”
Dana winced internally. She really should have known better than to tease a wild animal. Yes, she had been spying on him – for a very long time. But no, she really did not want him to think she was some kind of creeper who watched him when he showered … or dressed … or sometimes pleasured himself. Dana groaned out loud, dropping her head into her hands, by the gods. I really am a pervert!
“Dana, are you listening to me?” Mordecai demanded.
Dana raised her head. “My apologies, Warden. I should not have said that. I did not come here to pick a fight with you.”
Mordecai snorted rudely. “Then you’re wasting your time. Because all I want to do is fight with you. I want to yell at you. I want to make sure you are as miserable as I have been all these years, knowing I had a daughter destined to save the world and not be able to help her. Not be able to find her. Not be able to love her!” he shouted.
Guilt and shame slammed into her, and she opened her mouth, hoping for a small chance to explain. But it was not to be, because Mordecai was apparently taking his first opportunity of a one-on-one with her to do precisely what he said; fight with her, yell at her, ensure her misery.
“You get off on watching, is that it, Dana?” His deep voice was deadly as he moved with predatory grace toward her. “You have nothing better to do with your eternity than to perch on your little windowsill in Otherworld and watch as your creations ruin each other and desecrate their domains? You get your kicks from watching your own flesh and blood flounder in a world that was not only foreign to her, but also poisonous to her? Is that it, huh? Answer me!” he shouted, practically in her face.
Dana’s good humour – as well as her limited patience – fled in the face of his hostility and she allowed her fingertips to spark with pure power as she responded, “You forget your place. I do not answer to you, Warden. Step back.”
Their gazes clashed and locked for a tense few seconds before Mordecai looked at the hands which had coloured vapour swirling over them. Dana knew it looked almost like rainbow fog, but one touch of the swirling mist could bring down mountains.
Mordecai eventually shook his head, a sardonic smile curving his mouth as he took a single step back. “Typical. Put on your Goddess hat when you don’t like the questions. Or is it the answers you’re so afraid of?”
Dana extinguished her powers with a single thought, flushing when she realised what he said was true. She wanted to talk to Mordecai as Dana – as the mother of his child. Not as the creator of pretty much everything. How had her intentions gotten lost in mere seconds? Because the man pushed every button she had without even knowing it, she admitted. He was her weakness – and her biggest threat. And he had no idea. She wondered what he would do if he ever found out. “I apologise. That was instinct. I came here to talk –”
“And if I don’t want to talk to someone like you?” he