Malvor grinned and fell into step beside her, utterly undeterred.
"Oh, don't walk away, Annie Doll. This is far too entertaining."
"You're impossible."
"And yet, here I am. Very real," he quipped. "Now tell me—do you have a favorite romantic fantasy? Perhaps one with a roguish, impossibly handsome male lead?"
Anastasia sighed through her nose. "You want me to say a character like you, don't you?"
Malvor beamed. "It would make my day."
She didn't answer.
Which, of course, was an answer.
And Malvor lived for the chase.
Infuriating man.
Seriously.
Malvor was the walking embodiment of every insufferable book rogue she'd ever rolled her eyes at—the cocky, charming disaster who knew he was trouble and delighted in it. The kind of character that made heroines groan in frustration while secretly enjoying the chaos.
And she refused to give him the satisfaction.
She walked faster, heading for a sitting room she'd passed earlier. She didn't ask the house for help. Not this time. She needed to find something in this ridiculous place on her own.
Malvor, naturally, matched her pace effortlessly.
If he were a character in one of her books, she'd have thrown it across the room by now.
Then, just because he could, he bumped into her.
Not hard. Just… purposeful. Casual. Lazy.
She ignored him.
Malvor gasped. "Rude. You wound me, Annie Doll."
No response.
Which meant: encouragement.
With a deep sigh, he turned his face skyward, voice rich with mock tragedy.
"Once, long ago, a great and powerful god saw a woman of unparalleled beauty and unmatched wit. He was instantly captivated."
Anastasia sank into an armchair, opening a book with the focus of someone absolutely not listening.
Malvor pressed on.
"And so, this god, knowing she was far too worthy for ordinary gestures, moved the heavens for her!" He flung an arm toward the ceiling. "He stole the stars, reshaped the sky, etched her name into the constellations!"
She turned a page. Didn't read a word.
"But our clever heroine," he continued, circling her chair now, "was unyielding. She would not be won with mere celestial wonders! No, no! The god had to do more—build a realm where the oceans whispered her name and the winds carried his love songs!"
Anastasia snorted.
Malvor stopped. Eyes wide.
She laughed.
Just once—a sharp, unexpected burst of sound—and it hit him like a divine revelation.
He stared, entirely derailed, watching the last trace of amusement slide off her face as she pressed her lips together, fighting composure.
And damn it all, that was the best sound he'd ever heard.
Anastasia glanced up, catching the way he was staring.
Her brow furrowed. "What?"
Malvor blinked.
Then, just like that, the smirk was back.
"Oh, nothing, Annie," he purred, collapsing onto the couch across from her. He draped an arm over the back, grinning like a man freshly reborn. "I was just thinking…"
She sighed. "That's never a good sign."
He ignored her. "I quite like that sound."
Anastasia stiffened, just slightly.
Malvor leaned forward, chin resting on his fist, eyes glittering.
"I think," he mused, "I'll have to make you laugh more often."
She glared at him over her book. "I hate you."
Malvor beamed. "Ah, music to my ears."
This was it.The first crack in her armor.
For days, she'd been unreadable. Unimpressed. Unshakable.Cool detachment. Blunt practicality. Refusing to play.
But this—this laugh? This was a win.
And Malvor never let victories go uncelebrated.
He gasped again, clutching his chest with both hands.
"Oh, Annie Snookums, you have the best laugh."
Her expression fell so flat it could've doubled as the library floor.
She slowly shut her book, resting it on her knee.
"…Snookums?" she repeated, voice dry enough to cause a drought.
Malvor nodded, positively glowing. "It suits you, doesn't it?"
"No."
"But it does," he insisted, leaning forward eagerly. "It softens you. Makes you seem... approachable."
His smirk turned devilish.
"You wouldn't want to seem cold and intimidating, would you?"
Anastasia inhaled slowly through her nose.
And then—oh no—she smiled.
Not a real smile. No, no. This was a polite, weaponized smile.The kind you give someone who deserves a thank-you note and a slap.
"Of course not, Mallykins."
Malvor froze.
"…What?"
She blinked at him, still sickeningly pleasant. "Something wrong?"
He sat back, squinting. "Did you just—"
"Would you like some tea, Mally Boo? Or perhaps a cozy blanket?" she cooed. "You must be so tired after all that hard work… annoying me."
Malvor stared, visibly stunned.
Anastasia flipped her book open again, serene as a statue.
Then, as she turned the page, she sighed.
"That's what I thought."
Malvor groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. "Annie," he whined. "That's awful."
"Good," she said, eyes on the page.
He glared.
She smirked.
And somewhere between insult and affection, Malvor—god of chaos—realized something deeply troubling.
He was in so. much. trouble