He spotted Maximus heading their way.
Absolutely not.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Anastasia and snapped them both back home.
The world shifted, the Pantheon vanishing into the comfortable, chaotic embrace of his realm.
Malvor exhaled sharply, releasing Anastasia before running a frustrated hand through his hair.
"I was not in the mood for his crap," he muttered, pacing slightly. "He would have flirted with you or me—or both. Gods, from experience, don't do it."
Anastasia tilted her head, curious.
"From experience?"
Malvor threw up a hand.
"As free-loving as he claims to be, he is needy. Always inviting me to his realm, to the mortal realm, to party."
He spun dramatically, gesturing wildly.
"I love to indulge—but he is too much sometimes, even for me!"
He let out a deep, suffering sigh, flopping onto the nearest couch in a perfectly executed display of exhaustion.
"And that, my dear, is saying something."
Malvor stretched lazily across the couch, one arm thrown dramatically over his forehead.
"Now, if you don't mind, I am going to nap."
Anastasia snorted.
"Drama king."
Malvor peeked at her through one barely cracked eye, smirking.
She turned toward the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder,
"I'm going to get some food. Do you want anything, Malvor, Warden of My Existence?"
She added a mock bow, the perfect blend of mockery and amusement.
Malvor grinned against the couch cushion.
"Ooooh, I like that title. Say it again, but slower."
She rolled her eyes and walked away.
Malvor chuckled to himself before shutting his eyes, sinking into his dramatic, well-earned nap.
Anastasia returned over an hour later, finding Malvor somehow asleep—but still perfect.
How?
It was infuriating.
His hair? Flawless.His breathing? Even, peaceful, dramatic.His entire being? Like a painting of a sleeping god.
She set the bowls and plates down with a small huff, crossing her arms.
"Warden of my Existence, wake up."
Malvor beamed, eyes cracking open immediately.
"Hello, did I die and go to heaven? You are an angel."
Anastasia narrowed her eyes.
"That was a bad one."
Malvor pouted like she had personally wounded him.
She ignored it.
"I made food."
He perked up.
"Made it? You did? The house didn't?" He looked genuinely surprised.
She smirked.
"The house provided the ingredients. I made tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese."
Curious, Malvor grabbed a sandwich and took a bite.
Crispy.Perfectly cheesy.Then, dipping it in the soup, he let the fresh, creamy tomato flavor hit his tongue.
Simple.Comforting.But hells, it was perfect.
He sighed in dramatic pleasure, eyeing her over the rim of his bowl.
"Annie, how do you always know what I want before I do?" he asked, voice half-teasing, half-serious.
She didn't even hesitate.
"Malvor, I just treat you the way I want to be treated."
Malvor froze mid-bite.
He blinked.Stared.
That was…
That was the most shocking thing he had ever been told.
Malvor gawked at her.
"Annie, that was surprising."
She simply nodded, calm and matter-of-fact.
"Women will treat a man the way they want to be treated in the beginning of a relationship."
Malvor choked.
"Relationship?!?" he yelled, looking deeply offended."Excuse me?! What!?"
Anastasia burst into hard fits of laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.
"Our business relationship?" she gasped between laughs. "Owner and servant? Master and—"
"ANNIE!" Malvor cut her off immediately, eyes wide. "That is so inappropriate!"
She smirked, wiping a tear from her eye.
"What would you call it, then?"
Malvor froze, staring at her.
What did he call it?
He squinted, thinking.
Then, finally, he snapped his fingers.
"An exclusive and mutually beneficial arrangement of shared space and divine entertainment, with occasional moments of witty banter and undeniable attraction."
Anastasia blinked.
"So… a relationship?"
Malvor gasped, dramatically clutching his chest.
"Annie, no—that word is disgusting. How dare you."
She laughed again, shaking her head.
"You are impossible."
He grinned.
"And yet, you're still here."
"I have nowhere else to be."
The words hit him.
Something unfamiliar.Something unsettling.
He didn't like it.
What was this feeling?
Guilt? Gods, no. He didn't do guilt.Possessiveness? Maybe. He did like the idea of keeping her.Discomfort? He wasn't uncomfortable—was he?
No.No, none of those.
He settled on curiosity.
Curiosity was safe. Curiosity was easy.
"What do you mean, Annie?"
She didn't hesitate. Didn't even blink.
"I lived in the temples most of my life. I have no family, no friends, and no relationships."
Her voice was steady. Matter-of-fact.
"Best I had was regular clients."
Malvor watched her closely.
No emotion.No longing.No pain.No hope.
Just a fact.
She had nothing else.No one else.Nowhere else to be.
And for some gods-damned reason—
That made him feel something again.
Malvor sighed, dragging a hand down his face as if physically wiping away emotions.
Then, staring at her with deep, genuine exasperation, he muttered,
"Annie, you make me feel disgusting things."
She raised a brow, taking a sip of her drink.
"Like what?"
He scowled.
"I don't know, and I don't like it."
She smirked.
"Poor thing."
He pointed at her.
"See? That. That right there. You make me feel things, and then you mock me for it. Disgusting."
She just shrugged and took another bite of her sandwich.
He groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch, throwing an arm over his forehead.
"This is emotional warfare."
Malvor groaned again, peeking at her from beneath his arm with great suffering.
"You, my dearest Annie Bunny, are the Emotional Warfare Queen."
He sighed, shaking his head like a man defeated.
"Always shooting me. Ruthless. No hesitation. Straight to the heart."
Anastasia snorted, unimpressed.
"Malvor, that was not an attack. That was just a fact."
He gasped, hand clutching his chest.
"And yet, somehow, I still bleed."
She rolled her eyes.
"Drama king."
He grinned, eyes glinting.
"Ah, but you didn't say I was wrong."