"So sleep."

"You could get on the floor."

He snorts. "I am a god. I do not sleep on floors."

"Fine. Then I will." I grab the blankets and start to get up, only to be dragged back down into the bed by Aron. I make an outraged sound as I fall backward, flailing into the cot.

"You will stay right here," he says again. "If someone comes to assassinate me in the night, I can at least cover your body with mine and shield it."

I don't know if I'm touched or alarmed.

I lie stiffly in bed, wondering if this is some sort of colossal joke. "You are seriously not going to stay here."

"I seriously am."

I sigh and close my eyes, shoving the blankets up to my chin even though it's stuffy in the house. "Fine. Let me sleep, then."

He grunts acknowledgment, and I settle in. If I can't ditch him, I can at least try to ignore him, and I'm tired. I'm always tired. Now that I know I'm sleeping for two (so to speak) it explains a lot. Kinda sucks, too, but so has almost everything about being in this world. I've just about drifted off when Aron taps my shoulder.

I bite back a groan. "What?"

"How is it that you were enslaved by the Order of the Axe?"

I have to think for a moment, then realize that the “Order of the Axe” must be his priesthood. "I wasn't. They bought me from the guy that initially enslaved me. They dumped me into a room with a bunch of other women and were going to sacrifice us in your name, remember?"

"Mmm. None of them stepped forward. I recall this."

"Yeah, they were all smart enough to realize that they were getting saddled permanently with you." I yawn. "I'm the fool that didn't know. Can I go to sleep now?"

"I am not stopping you."

"You're talking," I tell him and close my eyes again. "You have to be silent for me to sleep." When he has no response to that, I say, "Well?"

"You said I had to be silent. I am being silent. Which is it?"

This is worse than arguing with a three-year-old. "Good night," I emphasize and close my eyes again.

"How long were you a slave for?"

I stare at the wall and grit my teeth. It's clear that I'm not going to get any sleep while Aron's around. Correction: while Aron is bored. "Like three days, max."

Aron grunts. "I thought it was longer."

I frown to myself. I shouldn't ask. I shouldn't. It's just going to make him keep talking. And yet… "Why did you think that? Did I have a 'slavey' look to me?"

"No. You glared at everyone in the room as if they were a problem. I admit, I appreciated that."

Some of the irritation I have with Aron fades away. "I was pretty pissed at being enslaved. Where I come from, that shit was abolished a long time ago."

"And where do you come from?"

"Oh no, don't change the subject. You still haven't told me why I looked slavey."

He sighs heavily, and his breath brushes against my hair. "Are all mortal women this difficult?"

"Yes. Now answer."

Aron snorts. "Because you had a very appealing body. If I was enslaving females, I would not want ugly ones. I would pick ones like you."

"I have no idea if that's a compliment or not. I'm going to go ahead and take it as one," I tell him with a yawn. "Can I please go to sleep now?"

"Go. Sleep. This is an idiotic conversation anyhow."

I roll my eyes and then settle in again. As I do, I can't help but think about the fact that he said I had a good body. He didn't say I was beautiful, of course. Arrogant Aron would never go out on a limb like that—but he liked my body…a body that's currently pressed against his in the bed.

I shouldn't even think about that.

Or the fact that I pretty much had my hands all over his dick at Tadekha's Citadel. And that I begged for it. A lot.

Like, a lot.

Of course, Aron hasn't brought it up again, so I won't either. It's just a shameful bit of history that I pray won't repeat itself again.

Even as I ponder this, he nudges me in the back. "You did not say where you are from."

"No, I didn't." After the first few rounds of getting the snot beat out of me every time I brought it up, I stopped saying anything at all. Even I'd find it a little hard to believe if a stranger came up to me and said they weren't from my world. It's not something that comes up in casual conversation.

"Where is it, then?" He nudges me again, this time so hard I nearly roll off the damn cot.

“You finally decided to ask?”

“I still don’t care,” he says arrogantly. “But you are…somewhat interesting.”

Wow. I bite back a sigh of irritation. "I told you before. I'm not from this world. My world is Earth. I don’t know how I got here. I kept hearing voices in an empty apartment next door, and when I went to go check it out, I got sucked into this world. Some jackass grabbed me the moment I showed up in Aventine and the next thing I knew, I was a slave girl."

I don’t bring up the fortune teller. The King of Pentacles card.

The Lovers card.

God help me, I forgot all about the Lovers card.

All Aron says is, "Mmm."

"What's that 'mmm' mean? That you don't believe me?"

"Why would I not believe you? You are speaking to a god. I know what is possible and what is not."

That makes me turn over. I sit up on my elbows and look down at him. That's right. He is a god. It's evident in his perfect form and coloring, and the way he seems to be just so much more than everyone else he encounters. "You don't think I'm lying?"

He tilts his head and raises one shoulder in a half-shrug. "When I was cast out, I imagine the boundaries between worlds grew thin so I—and my fellow gods—could come through. It stands to reason that you were pulled in through the same circumstance."

That's the most logical explanation for why I'm here, and I feel a little bit like crying and laughing both. I'm not special. I'm not a chosen one. I'm a doofus that wandered through the wrong place at the right time. It makes sense and yet…I'm disappointed because if it's just random happenstance as to why I'm here, there's no grand game plan for how I get back, either. And that's damn depressing. But it's an answer, and I finally have one. "Thanks, Aron."

"For what?"

"For believing me. No one has until now."

"I am a god," he says, as if that explains everything. Heck, maybe it does. He pats my shoulder. "Go to sleep. You keep talking and we will be leaving early in the morning."

As if I'm the Chatty Cathy. I bite back a snotty retort, because it won't do any good. "Going to sleep now."

"Good." His arm goes around my waist and he pulls me tight against him. I'm surprised when a moment later, he sniffs my hair. A hot flush moves over my body as I remember the night in Tadekha's Citadel and how I crawled all over the man as if my life depended on getting his knob. He'd made me come, but every time I reached for him, he pushed me away.

But…he'd been hard as a rock. I distinctly remember how hard he was, how erect every time I touched him. I think of the Lovers card again, and heat floods through me. If he touched me right now? I’d be wet. The realization is shameful.

He sniffs my hair again, and I wonder if he's hard right now. Is he overcome with lust for me?

"You smell bad," Aron says. “When was the last time you bathed?”

Man, fuck this guy.