We get closer to the gate and I can see that despite the massive portcullis that blocks the way out, there’s a smaller wrought-iron door that only needs to be opened by one person. I guess that’s for bottlenecking travel, but either way, it’s encouraging. Opening one small door is an easier bribe than opening the whole massive gate. I turn to Aron and his hood is almost back from his face, his skin and strange eyes practically glowing white in the moonlight.

Yeah, he’s going to stand out like a sore thumb. I move closer to him and tug his hood back over his too-handsome features, hiding them. “Keep this shit hidden.”

“You act as if my face is a problem. I am handsome enough to suit any.”

“Handsomeness isn’t the issue, and wow, arrogant much?” I pull it down just a little further, because I can see the edge of his scar when he turns his face, and it’s a dead giveaway. “You’re pale as hell and you stand out in a crowd. Until we get on the road, you need to pretend like you’re a leper and keep that shit under wraps.”

“A what?”

“A leper. You guys don’t have lepers? You have every other stupid medieval thing I can think of.” Actually, I’m not sure if this culture—Aventinian? Aventini?—is more Roman than Medieval. For every castle-like building, there are dudes in linen kilts and sandals. I guess it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving. “Diseased dudes. Whatever.”

He recoils. “You want them to think I’m diseased? That I am Kalos?”

The outrage in his tone would probably make my hair straighten if I was afraid of him. I still am, but I’m more afraid of what the prelate is up to. I can deal with one cranky god who’s also pretty damn helpless. I can’t deal with an entire city full of assassins.

“No, I just don’t want them to realize you’re you,” I tell him impatiently. “Can we just get on with this? Keep your hood up and let me do the talking.”

“Fine,” Aron snarls, and he doesn’t sound pleased. Too bad for him.

I eye the guards at the gate. They’re staring at us now, probably because we’ve stopped in the road in the middle of the night and stand out like a sore thumb. Not a great start to our “secret” escape. I start to pull my hood over my face and then decide that no, that looks a bit too much like we’re up to no good. We need to look like we want to do a different kind of no good. So I turn toward Aron and wrap my arms around his neck.

Or I try to. He’s easily a foot taller than me and not cuddly in the slightest. I lean in even as he stiffens, his eyes flashing.

“Now is not the time for fucking, servant—”

“I know,” I hiss at him, and cock one foot in the air like we’re getting all cozy and romantic. At least, I hope it looks like that from a distance. From a very far distance, it hopefully won’t look like I’m gritting my teeth because I want to beat his head in. “Just follow my lead and pretend you’re my lover—”

He snorts. “You should be my lover, not the other way around. No one’s going to believe—”

I slap a hand over his mouth before I decide to abandon his ass. “Stop right there,” I say sweetly. “We’re tricking them, all right? Follow my lead and pretend that you want to have sex with me, all right?”

He grunts.

“Thank you,” I tell him, relieved we’re finally getting somewhere. I release his neck and then try to put my hand in his.

He just slaps one of his big paws on my ass and gives it a hard squeeze that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I give him a shocked look, and there’s a weird charge in the air that makes me shiver. He looks thoughtful, and my pussy clenches somewhere deep inside.

Okay, that was weird.

Gritting my teeth again, I slide closer to him and loop my arm around his waist. “Follow my lead,” I murmur one last time before heading forward.

For once in his stubborn life, Aron doesn’t protest. He keeps squeezing my butt cheek and slows his steps to match my paces, and we approach the guards.

No one moves as we approach, but they start to give me speculative looks the moment we get close enough for them to see my face.

“You lost, tart?” one asks.

I’m really getting tired of the word “tart.” “Nope! Just taking my lover out of the city for some privacy.” I wink at him and then pat my coin purse. “What’ll it take to convince you to open that door?”

“Door ain’t for sale,” the man says flatly.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” another says. “Don’t be so hasty.” He moves closer and eyes me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“I’m sure we can,” I say brightly, pretending to misunderstand. I pull my coin purse off of my belt and open it, shaking a few coins into my palm. “How about—”

“How about your cunt instead of your coin?” the man says, giving Aron’s cloaked figure a dismissive look before he reaches out and grabs my tit.

It happens so fast that I can’t do more than squawk in outrage, and the coins go tumbling from my hands onto the muddy ground. Thunder rumbles overhead and suddenly Aron’s hand isn’t on my waist anymore.

It’s on the guy’s throat, and the man’s hauled into the air, his legs thrashing.

“That’s mine,” Aron growls low. “I didn’t say you could touch it.”

The other guards rush forward, and then things are a total blur. I watch in horror as Aron casually tosses aside the man he’s holding and wades forward, unarmed, as the others unsheathe their swords.

I back up in fear, because I have no weapon and no way to protect myself. Not that I’d be able to against a bunch of armed men.

Aron seems to have no problems with that. He flings himself forward, and as one man points his sword at the god, he casually bats it aside as if it’s nothing and then grabs the man’s wrist. There’s a crunch of bone and then the sword falls uselessly to the ground as the guard screams. The Lord of Storms moves almost gracefully as he grabs the men, crushing windpipes, snapping arms, and batting aside swords as if they’re nothing. It doesn’t matter that they’re armed and he’s not—it’s clear there’s no contest here.

He grabs the last guard by his neck and I expect him to fling him like the others, but he just flicks his wrist and there’s another crunch of bone and the man falls to the ground, limp.

Dead.

Aron turns to me, breathing hard, and his eyes are alight with some sort of peculiar glee. His pale skin gleams with a hint of sweat and he grins, pleased with himself. “Gate’s clear. Let’s go.”

I make a wordless sound of protest in my throat.

“What?” he asks, frowning as if I’m the problem here. Me. Meanwhile, I just watched a man relentlessly slaughter a bunch of men that stood in his way. Unreal.

“Are you going to do this all the damn time?” I ask, rubbing my arms against the sudden chill that’s swept over me.

It’s clear Aron doesn’t like being questioned. “Do what?”

“This?” I gesture angrily at the dead men strewn in front of the gate. “I mean, hello, this is not what civilized people fucking do!”

“It is what the Lord of Storms and god of battle does.”

“But still!”

He adjusts his cloak, pulling the hood back over his head. “Are you going to tell me that you had it under control? Because I seem to recall this one”—and he kicks one of the dead bodies—“grabbing you.”

I swallow hard, because my boob still hurts where he squeezed it. That doesn’t give Aron the right to just slaughter a bunch of people though. “I also remember you stating that I’m your property.”

His eyes gleam with that unholy light again, and his grin widens, showing his teeth. It’s not a friendly grin, or even a pleasant one. “That is because you are. You are my anchor in this world. You are mine to do with as I please.”

I shiver at the deadly confidence in his voice and the meaning behind his words. I hug my clothes tighter to my body. “Well, if you grab my tit, I’m going to be pissed.”