Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven - Gabriella
“Talk. Okay, sure,” I say, taking out my earbuds and placing them on my coffee table along with my bag. “You can talk about how the hell we are now in my apartment and how the fuck you know where I live?” I almost screech at him.
“I believe you humans describe it as teleporting,” he says nonchalantly, but with a defensive crease in his eyes.
“You humans? Oh, right, because you’re a God,” I mock.
“I don’t appreciate the derision in your voice and I’m not the type of person to tolerate being mocked. You almost got yourself killed and had I not been watching you–”
“I knew it! I knew you were watching me!” I exclaim, relieved to know that feeling I had all night wasn’t in my head.
“And it’s a good thing I was, or your fragile form would have been a corpse on the sidewalk!” he booms with such ferocity I swear it makes the entire room shake. He takes a breath and composes himself, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he apologises looking contrite.
“I need a drink,” I say as I walk over to my kitchen island, but as I do a glass of red wine appears on the counter out of thin air. I freeze in my tracks and look from it to Jartre, “Did you just…” He nods affirmatively and I suck in a deep breath.
He sighs, “I’m sure I’m going about this all wrong. In all my years I have never once been in this situation, but I’m trying. I’m sure it is hard for you to grasp the possibility that magic is real, and I’m trying to be understanding of that,” he says slowly, weighing each word carefully.
His words give me pause. Is this a lot to swallow? Fuck to the yes! But… magic isn’t hard for me to grasp at all, in fact, the more I’m confronted by it, the easier it feels to just accept it.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean what do I mean?” I ask back in confusion, snapping out of my thoughts as I analyse the glass on the table. It sure looks real.
“Why isn’t the idea of magic hard for you to grasp?” he asks curiously, taking a step towards me.
I narrow my eyes in annoyance, “Would you get out of my head?”
He smirks, “So you admit I can read your mind.”
I roll my eyes, “Sure, I admit you can read my mind, now knock it off. My thoughts are my private business, and you have no right to them. God or not, I do not consent to you invading my mind. Got it?” I snap in annoyance.
His nostrils flare and he has to take in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he attempts to centre himself. When he opens his eyes again, he looks a little calmer, but mostly he looks like he’s in pain.
“As you wish,” he says forcefully.
“That looked painful to say,” I state.
“I don’t make it a habit of letting people speak to me the way you are now or putting restrictions on me,” he says in a disgruntled tone.
My eyebrows raise in surprise, “So what makes me so special?”
Suddenly the giant shifts uncomfortably, “You didn’t answer my question.”
Dodging my question I see. Okay, I’ll give him this one only because he did ask first.
I take a deep breath, “Look, I’m not sure I buy the whole God, thing, but I can accept magic because… it’s part of my life… I suppose,” I say, feeling stupid for even phrasing it like that.
He walks close, his bright silver eyes assessing me with deep curiosity, “I don’t sense any magic coming from you.”
“Not sure if I should be offended or not by that.”
“What kind of magic are you familiar with?” he asks with a strange sense of urgency.
“I have visions,” I shrug, picking up the glass and taking a sip. Jesus, he even picked my favourite. Stalker much? He stares at me, not even blinking and it’s starting to creep me out. “Cat got your tongue?”
“You have visions?” he asks with slow uncertainty.
“I can’t explain it, okay? Ever since I was a child, when I go to sleep, I see things in my dreams that always come true. I don’t enjoy it because it causes me chronic migraines, but I don’t have another word to describe it other than magic. Happy now?” I snap, getting more defensive than I intended.
“You have visions,” he says in contemplation.
“Are you just going to keep repeating that? What, I’m meant to believe you’re a magical God who can read minds but me having visions is hard for you to grasp?” I say acerbically.
He narrows his eyes and once again has to compose himself. What is with this guy?
“Only two people have the gift of foresight, the Goddess Zarseti, and the current High Priestess of the makkari. I have only ever known one other to possess such a gift, but she died long ago,” he says, a flash of what looks like guilt crossing his features.
“What’s a makkari?” I ask in confusion.
“You humans call them witches, though I don’t know why,” he says in a baffled tone.
I balk at him, “You’re telling me witches are real too?”
“Makkares, and yes. But I do not sense the blood of a makkari in you, so I can’t understand how you have such a gift,” he says, his bushy brows dipping in a hard V.
“Just lucky I guess,” I say as I take another sip. I take in a deep breath, as I take in the surrealness of this conversation. Am I really talking to a guy I hooked up with in a club about Gods and magic? Just letting a stranger in my loft… hang on, that reminds me. “Back to my first question, how do you know where I live?” I ask suspiciously.
“I have been watching you since that night at the club,” he admits nonchalantly.
I stare at him with wide eyes, “You’ve been stalking me?!”
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You literally just said you’ve been following me and watching me and doing so without my knowledge or consent. That is the definition of stalking!” I continue to shout in outrage. “How can you just say that so casually and think that’s okay? I’m not your property!”
“But you are mine,” he says forcefully, his eyes blazing with an inhuman intensity that makes me gulp and take a step back.
“We hooked up at a club, that does not make me yours or anyone’s,” I say bitingly, standing my ground.
He takes in a deep breath and turns away from me. He walks over and sits on my sofa, which I used to think was large until he sat down on it. Now it looks like children’s furniture. He scrubs his hands down his face, his shoulders bulging with tension. Okay, the stalking thing is still a major red flag, but seeing this alleged God, sitting on my couch looking so confused and defeated has some part of me wanting to go over and comfort him, but I think better of it.
“You’re my destiny,” he whispers.