He became still again, and…good gods, the water coursing down his chest froze. The droplets ceased.

“I’m already gasping,” he whispered, his voice rougher, deeper.

Confusion rippled along the flood of rage. Did he have some sort of breathing ailment? Could gods have health issues? If so, I doubted these cold waters would be good for his lungs. Not that I remotely cared for the condition of his lungs. Nor did I even know why I was wondering about their condition.

A warm breeze lifted the strands of my wet hair and slipped over the chilled skin of my bare shoulders and my…

Oh.

The water only reached my waist here.

“In case you’re wondering,”—his voice was a kiss against my skin—“this is me intentionally staring.”

I started to lower, seeking the shield of the water, but I stopped myself. I would not shrink or cower to anyone or anything. “Pervert.”

“Guilty.”

“Keep staring,” I growled. “And I will claw out those eyes with my fingers if need be.”

He barked out another short laugh, this one tinged with surprise. “Still no fear, Your Grace?”

I bristled at the way he used the Royal title as if it were something silly and irrelevant. All the more frustrating was the fact that he was perhaps the first person to ever refer to me as such.

“I’m still not afraid of you,” I replied, briefly glancing down. There was only a minor bit of relief when I saw several pale strands of hair plastered to my chest. They didn’t hide nearly enough, but it was better than nothing.

“Well, I’m a little afraid of you,” he said, and he was somehow closer without seeming to have moved. He wasn’t even a foot from me now, and an icy heat radiated from him, pressing against my flesh. His closeness heightened the sensitivity of every inch of skin. “You want to claw my eyes out.”

Hearing him say what I’d threatened sounded ridiculous. “You and I both know it would be impossible for me to claw your eyes out.”

“And yet, based on my limited interactions with you, I know you’d try, even when you know you’d fail.”

I couldn’t exactly argue against that. “Well, if you’re that concerned about the possibility of me attempting to do that, you should be careful of where your eyes wander.”

“I’m being extra-careful as incredibly hard as that is, given the…abundant allure of being less careful.”

 “I’m sure you say that to all the ladies you accost.”

“Only the ones I would be tempted to allow to try and claw my eyes out.”

“That…that makes no sense.” Drawing in a too-short breath, I stepped back through the water, folding an arm over my chest.

He watched me, but his stare was nothing like Nor’s. There was curiosity there. “It’s amazing to witness.”

“What is?”

“These moments when you suddenly remember what I am. Is this another attempt to use common sense?”

I lifted my chin a notch. “Unfortunately.”

“Is it not going well again?”

“Not exactly.”

He chuckled, and the sound…well, it was as nice as his laugh. I wished it weren’t because it made me want to hear it again, and that seemed like a silly need. “Why do you think you need to remain quiet now?”

I spared a glance at the shore. “I’m likely to say something that would make you forget that one decent bone in your body.”

He drew his lower lip between his teeth, and for some inane reason, my full attention was drawn to that. “I don’t think that’s the kind of mood you have to worry about putting me in.”

“What kind of—?” I cut myself off as what he said sank in. There was a sharp curl low in my stomach that I didn’t like at all—for a multitude of reasons.

“I know. That was…inappropriate of me.”

“Very,” I muttered, thinking my response was just as inappropriate, all things considered.

“You’re unexpectedly outspoken.”

“I’m not sure how you can be expectant of anything as we don’t really know each other.”

“I think I know enough,” he responded.

“I don’t even know your name,” I pointed out.

“Some call me Ash.”

“Ash?” I repeated, and he nodded. Something about that was familiar. “Is it short for something?”

“It is short for many things.” His head suddenly snapped toward the shore. A moment passed. “By the way, I would think you would’ve learned from our last interaction. I don’t make a habit of punishing mortals for speaking their minds.” He shot a glance in my direction. “Mostly.”

Threatening to claw out his eyes and actually stabbing him in the chest weren’t examples of speaking my mind, but I wisely didn’t share that thought.

“And I didn’t accost you. I may be a lot of things…” He strode forward with the warning. “But I am not that.”

I opened my mouth, but all words left me when he neared the shallower end of the lake. I stared. Gods help me, I couldn’t take my eyes away from him as he climbed the earthen steps to the shore. It wasn’t his rear that snagged my attention. Though I did see that. I shouldn’t have, and I should’ve turned away right then because that made me a hypocrite of the highest order—being inappropriate went both ways. But I didn’t. What I did see of his ass was…well, it was as well-formed as everything else I shouldn’t have seen.

But it was the ink sprawling across the entire length of his back from the upper swells of his rear all the way to the edges of his hair that I couldn’t look away from. In the center of his back was a circular, twisted swirl that grew larger, lashing out to form the thick tendrils I’d seen reaching around his waist to flow along the insides of his hips. There wasn’t nearly enough light for me to make out what made up the swirling design, but I had never seen any sailor with a tattoo like his. Again, my curiosity stirred. “What kind of tattoo is that?”

“One that is inked into the skin.” He started to turn toward me, and I quickly averted my eyes. “You should get dressed. I won’t look. I promise.”

I peeked at him, finding that he’d turned away from the lake and held what appeared to be a pair of black breeches that I truly had not seen upon my arrival. My gaze shot to my pile of clothing. I couldn’t stand here forever and question him.

I charged through the water, my eyes trained on his shoulders as he bent. Reaching the damp shore, I grabbed my slip and pulled it over my head. It only reached an inch or two past my thighs, but it was the quickest option, and the last thing I wanted to do was force my breasts into the bodice of the damn gown in front of him.

I picked up my sheathed blade—

“I do hope you aren’t planning something foolish with that blade.”

I turned to him, my irritation spiking when I saw that he still had his back to me. Obviously, he wasn’t worried at all about what I would do with it.

“I haven’t been the one issuing threats, so I would hope not.” He faced me then, a smirk fixed on those well-formed lips. He stood there, the flap of his breeches undone, still wearing no shirt. I was positive he could’ve finished dressing. His fingers made quick work of the flap of his breeches. “You should unsheathe that blade.”

My brows lifted at the unexpected request. “Do you want me to use this one on you, too?”

He laughed again. “Are you always this violent?”

“No.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. But, no, I do not want you to use it on me,” he replied. “We’re not alone.”

Leafy branches rattled, shook by a sudden burst of high wind. I tightened my grip on the dagger as I looked up. The limbs had stilled, but there was a sound, a low moan that came from deep within the woods.

Ash bent once more, retrieving a scabbard. Gripping the silver hilt, he withdrew the short sword I’d seen him use before.

Seeing it reminded me of what I’d thought when he first used it. “Why do you carry a sword?”

He looked over at me. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re a god. Do you really need a sword?”