Shadowstone could kill a god if they were stabbed in the heart, and my aim had only been off by a fraction of an inch—if that. In the back of my mind, I knew he’d survive this, but it had to hurt.

Quicksilver eyes lifted to mine once more. The wispy tendrils of eather whipped through his irises, and I knew he would kill me. There was no way he wouldn’t. Pressure clamped down on my chest as he let go of my wrist and slowly took a step back, freeing himself. Slick blood coated the blade, dark and shimmery in the lamplight—nothing like mortal blood. I stared at my dagger, bracing myself as I took several steps back.

“Yet again, you entered a home without taking a moment to see if you were truly alone,” the god said, and my gaze flew to his. The eather swirled even more wildly in his eyes. “That was incredibly reckless. Don’t ever do that again.”

My lips parted on a harsh exhale. “I…I just stabbed you in the chest, and that is what you have to say?”

“No. I was getting to that.” Tilting his head to the side, dark hair slid across his cheek. “You stabbed me.”

“I did.” I took another step back, throat now too dry to swallow.

“In the chest,” he tacked on. The front of his tunic was torn, but there was no stain of blood. Nothing. If it weren’t for the smear on the blade, I wouldn’t have believed I had actually done it. “Almost in my heart.”

A tremble ran through my hands. “Well, it seems it had very little impact on you.” Which was terrifying on a whole other level.

“It stung,” he growled, head straightening. “Deeply.”

“Sorry?”

His chin lowered. “You are not sorry.”

I actually was. Sort of. “You grabbed me.”

“Do you stab everyone who grabs you?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Especially when I’m in a home with a dead body and someone grabs me from behind without any warning!”

“I’m not ready to talk about why you’re even in this home with a dead body,” he stated, and I frowned. “But first, you don’t sound sorry.”

“I was—am—but I wouldn’t have stabbed you if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?” Disbelief rang in his tone.

“You grabbed me,” I repeated. “Without warning—”

“Perhaps you should look before stabbing?” the god argued. “Or has that never occurred to you?”

“Has it ever occurred to you to announce your presence so you don’t get stabbed?” I shot back.

The god moved fast. I had no chance to do anything. He was suddenly in front of me, gripping the dagger blade-first. He yanked it from my hand. A second later, silver-white energy crackled over his knuckles. The light flared and pulsed, swallowing the blade and the hilt. The shadowstone and the iron handle crumbled under his grip.

My mouth dropped open.

He opened his hand, and the lamplight caught the ashes of what remained of my dagger as they fell to the floor.

“You destroyed my dagger!” I exclaimed.

“I did,” he parroted my words.

Stunned, all I could do was stand there for several moments. I couldn’t even think about the years my family had kept that dagger safe, waiting for me. “How dare you!?”

“How dare I? Do you think that maybe I don’t want to be stabbed again with it?”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you simply said hello!” I shouted.

“But what if I just happened to startle you?” he challenged. “You’d likely stab me even then.”

I balled my hands into fists. “Now, I really want to stab you again.”

“With what?” His chin lowered once more, eyes a swirling storm. “Your bare fingers? I’m half-tempted to allow you to try.”

I inhaled sharply at the almost teasing tone. He was amused by this. But he had destroyed my favorite dagger. Whatever flimsy hold I had on my restraint had been severed. “Maybe I’ll get my hands on another shadowstone blade. And instead of going for your heart, I’ll aim for your throat? Can a god survive without their head? I’m eager to find out.”

He arched a brow. “I think you actually mean that.”

I smiled widely then—the same kind of expression I’d given my mother earlier. “Perhaps.”

Shock briefly flickered across his face, widening those churning eyes. “You actually dare to threaten me? Even now?”

“It’s not a threat,” I said. “It’s a promise.”

He drew back. Immediately, I recognized that I may have let my temper get the better of me, forgetting exactly what he was.

A ripple of energy rolled across the chamber, licking my skin. The feel of it was icy-hot, leaving a wake of goosebumps behind as it rattled the paintings on the walls.

I could barely force air into my lungs, but I held my ground instead of caving to the instinct to run—to bolt from the house and this being with incomprehensible power, never looking back. Shaking, I lifted my chin. “I’m supposed to be impressed by that?”

The god became very still as the light pulsed intensely. Every muscle in my body locked up. Maybe my mother had been eerily prophetic about my mouth?

He laughed, low and throaty. I didn’t see him lift his hand but I did feel the cold press of a finger against my cheek. My heart faltered as I tried to prepare myself for the pain of the eather burning me from the inside, just like it had with the Kazin siblings and the poor woman on the floor here.

But no pain came.

All I felt was the rough pads of his fingers trailing over my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my lips. “What truly scares you, liessa?” he asked, and I thought…I thought I heard a hint of approval in his voice. “If I do not?”

Liessa. That was the second time he’d called me that and I wanted to know what the word meant. Now didn’t seem the most opportune time to ask such a question.

“I…I am afraid,” I admitted because…who wouldn’t be?

The intense, silvery light faded from his eyes. “Only on a superficial level. Not the kind of fear that shapes a mortal, changes who they are and guides what choices they make,” he said, his thumb sliding over my chin, brushing the underside of my lip. His touch was solid, an icy brand that sent a wave of apprehension and…something stronger through me. Something that felt like finally, like that same sense of rightness I’d felt before. Obviously, something was very wrong with me. Because that didn’t make sense. “You may feel terror, but you’re not terrified. And there is a kingdom’s worth of difference between the two.”

“How…how would you know?” I asked, my heart hammering as his fingers splayed across my jaw and cheek. I didn’t know if my heart beat so fast because he was touching me, or because he did it so gently. His hand grazed the curve of my neck, and I wondered if he could feel how fast my pulse thrummed. “Are you a God of Thoughts and Emotions?”

He let out another raspy, rough laugh as his fingers slipped under my hood, moving beneath the braid hanging at the nape of my neck. “You,” he said, his thumb moving in a slow swipe over the side of my throat. There was something about the way he said that. “You are trouble.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as another wave of shivers pulsated through me, settling in very indecent places, and leaving me to question how unwise I actually was.

Which, I had a feeling, was very.

Because the sharp swirl of tingles tightening my skin was utterly insane. He didn’t even look mortal right now.

“Not really,” I whispered.

“Lies.”

 I searched the hard, brutally striking lines of his features. “You…you aren’t angry with me?”

“I’m definitely perturbed,” he replied, and I could think of dozens of better adjectives to describe the state of my rage if someone had almost stabbed me in the heart. “As I said, it stung. For a moment.”

Only for a moment?

“I have a feeling your next question will be if I’m sure I’m not going to kill you,” he continued, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking that. “I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind when I felt the blade pierce my skin.” His thumb made another slow pass over my pulse.