Page 63 of What Blooms from Death

He laughed quietly. “Just keeping close for the sake of ourbond,my darling Chaos. And making sure you don’t drown. The waters in this realm can prove deceptively deep, I’ve found; what looks shallow is very oftennot.”

I considered the warning, peering into the water but trying not to let apprehension fill my voice as I said, “That’s a very convoluted excuse—why not just admit you were hoping to catch a glimpse of me bathing?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not that desperate.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not even close.”

“…Seven years you’ve been down here, right?”

“I was asleep for most of it,” he reminded me. “And not entirely alone, if you’ll recall. We’ve managed, I assure you.”

I found myself mentally picturing all of the soldiers and others who had been at their outpost. For some reason, I didn’t want to think about Aleksandermanaginghimself with any of them.

“Are you projecting, Princess?” he asked.

“Projecting?”

“If you’re really the pariah you claim you are in the living world, I imagine you’re no stranger to dry spells yourself. Mustbe difficult to find men willing to sleep with a violent destroyer of kingdoms.”

“Not as difficult as you might think,” I said. “Some of them enjoy a little violence in the bedroom. Or dare I say,chaos. The things some of them have asked me to do…”

“Spare me the details.”

Maybe it was my imagination—or, hell, my vanity—but his voice seemed to have taken on a sharper edge.

“Have I made you jealous?” I teased, kicking innocently at the icy water.

He didn’t reply.

Wait—was heactuallyjealous? If so, that had been far too easy…which made it considerably less fun. All the same, I couldn’t help turning to face him more fully, ready to see if I could rattle him further.

Heat curled through my body when I saw that he’d already turned around to stare at me, and I realized I’d…misjudged.

He didn’t look rattled at all. He looked the opposite of jealous and bothered; he was the picture of confidence bordering on arrogance with his arms folded across his chest and one shoulder still leaning against the tree.

And suddenlyIwas the one fumbling for words, wishing the blanket around me was larger. Thicker. It barely fell to the middle of my thighs, and the thin material was growing damp in the foggy air, making it cling to my curves with a closeness that suddenly felt far too revealing.

“Why?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Were youtryingto make me jealous?”

I could tell he was attempting to fluster me, same as I’d been trying to do to him—and I refused to let him beat me at my own game.

My tone was less like flirting, more like a challenge, as I said, “Maybe it would help that bondour magic seems to have if wesimply did away with all this tension andmanagedsomethingswith one another.”

He met the challenge with a smile. “What tension?”

I glared at him as he pushed away from the tree and strode toward me.

“My mistake,” I mumbled. “There’s clearly no tension; I must be imagining the way you’re currently undressing me with your eyes.”

A dark chuckle fell from his lips. “There isn’t much undressing to do, to be fair.”

“So you admit you’re doing it?”

“I’ll admit you’re better to look at than the mud and dirty water surrounding you, so perhaps my eyes are drawn naturally to you.”

“Such flattery.”

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