this might be the best sleep I get since I’ve landed in this hellish place. That’d be nice.
Of course, I don’t have my eyes closed for longer than a moment before Aron speaks again. “Female. Female, wake up.”
I open my eyes and glare at him. He’s propped up on one elbow in the bed. “Two things,” I say, lifting two fingers into the air (instead of just the one I want to shoot in his direction). “One. My name is Faith. Not ‘female.’ Not ‘slave.’ Faith. If you don’t call me by it, I won’t answer. And two, it takes longer to sleep than thirty fucking seconds.”
Aron just arches one of those pale brows at me. “If you will not answer to ‘female,’ then why did you answer me just now?”
I grab my pillow, glare at him, and turn my back. “Goodnight.”
“Female—”
“We just talked about this!” I yell without turning around.
His chuckle sounds as dickish as he is. “Faith, then. I do not know how to sleep.”
I roll onto my back and look over at him. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Is there a trick to it? Because I close my eyes and nothing happens. Tell me how to sleep.” He regards me from his reclining position on the bed, amidst the luxury of dozens of pillows and all of the blankets.
“Dude, you seriously have to give this time. You close your eyes and wait—”
“I did that—“
“For longer than a few minutes. Your body will eventually get tired and you’ll go to sleep. I promise.”
He grunts again, the sound pissy and impatient. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d probably lecture him on the fact that he’s still not wearing any clothing and lying around with your junk hanging out makes your company uncomfortable. No matter how appealingly sexy (despite his paleness and douchey attitude) said junk might be.
But I’m too tired to keep talking to Aron, so I point at him, make a gesture for him to turn around, and then go back to my bed.
That lasts for about five minutes. I’m just about to drift off when Aron speaks again. “This is not like I expected.”
His voice is so quiet that it takes me a moment to struggle out of the clutches of sleep and back awake. “Mmm…what?” I rub at my eyes and sit up, because if I don’t, I’m going to fall right back asleep again.
Aron gestures at the room. “All of this. You. I knew this would be punishment, but I had no idea…”
“Punishment for what?”
He says nothing.
“You can’t just leave that out there,” I tell him, annoyed. “What are you being punished for?”
“I do not need to tell you anything, human.” His voice is as cold and dripping with arrogance as it ever was. His momentary vulnerability of a few moments ago is gone.
“We’re gonna add ‘human’ to the list of words Faith won’t answer to,” I tell him, rubbing my eyes again. “Slave,’ ‘servant,’ ‘tart,’ and ‘human.’ Oh, and ‘mortal.’ That one always sounds particularly insulting out of your lips.”
“It is meant to be insulting.”
Yeah, I figured. I press my hand to my forehead and look over at Aron. He’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and I realize I’ve still got all the torches lit. I’m too tired to blow them out—or whatever one does with torches. It’s clear Aron’s not going to let me sleep just yet, so I stifle my yawn and wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I decide I’ll do the asking for a bit. “Okay, so what’s your end game here, Aron?”
“End game?” He looks over at me, his cheek brushing against the blankets on his bed, and for a moment, he looks so beautiful and masculine that it makes my heart ache. Was there ever a guy made so perfect? Sure, he’s got the weird two-color eyes—one green and one brown—but I actually find it startlingly attractive. Then there’s the perfect body, covered in scars, sure, but still utterly perfect. Even the scar on his face just adds to his sexiness.
Zero flaws in his appearance…but his personality is pretty shit, I remind myself. “Yup. End game. Like, you’re a god and you’re here on Earth—uh, the mortal plane. What’s the plan? What do you need to do to get back home? Do you even want to get back home?” Maybe he chose to leave and I’ve got this all wrong.
He snorts. “I certainly do not wish to stay here.”