TW: Just wanted to let you know this chapter has a flashback scene with implied rape/non-con (not the MC). It's not graphic and doesn't actually show the act, but I just wanted to give anyone a heads up in case any mention is a hard NO for you. Thanks!

"Is it that noticeable?"

"Your eyes are literally glowing, Ben. Yes, it's noticeable."

Ben hands me a glass of water as we try to sober up in the miserable few hours before dawn. "Well," he offers when it's clear I'm not going to speak first, "I mean, we don't know for certain that. . . that this is it. Right?"

"No." I take a shaking sip and wipe my eyes dry so I can see him better. Both the blues of his iris glow in the dim lighting of his house, and it's equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying. "I guess not," I say. It's a lifetime before I finish off my glass and he automatically gets up to refill it. "Wait, what do you mean you saw the future? How is that even possible? I thought men physically couldn't practice magic?"

"I'm not entirely sure what happened." Ben fills my glass in the sink and returns looking as worn out and drunk as ever. "It was difficult to discern what I was looking at. To be honest. . . I think we were dead."

"Who's we? Us?"

"You were visiting me. And Alex. And Chris." Ben attempts to take a sip from his own cup and ends up dropping it by accident. Sighing heavily in defeat as he looks for a broom to clean up the shards of glass. "Fólkvangr didn't look anything like I thought it would."

Ben saw the afterlife? There's an afterlife? An afterlife in which I get to visit him whenever I want? But. . . how does that work, exactly? I thought I was supposed to die for good? "What did it look like?"

"Well," he answers as he finishes sweeping up the glass. "For starters, I lived in a normal house in what looked like a normal suburb." Ben pauses to try and recall the vision. "You came over for dinner. My father was there for some reason. But we were. . . happy." After he dumps the dustpan in the trash and wipes up the remaining mess, he takes a seat beside me at the table. "It was comforting to know it all works out. Even in death."

I understand what he means. It is comforting to know that death isn't really the end. Even if I can't fix what happened—even if I'm doomed to a violent and bloody destiny—it's nice to know we still find each other when it's all over.

"I don't know when it happens, and I'm sorry what I saw couldn't be more helpful." Ben reaches over and takes my hand in his. "But even if I die tomorrow," he promises, "know that I have no regrets. If I'm about to die tomorrow, know that I love you."

"I love you, too." I believe him, and that makes all of this even more unbearably painful. He's much more drunk than I am, but I still find myself lightheaded with nervous laughter. "But I don't for a second believe you have no regrets. Not a single one?"

"Well," he corrects with a sly smile. "To be completely honest, I would have preferred my first time to not immediately result in my demise, but such is life, I suppose."

I literally tell myself not to do it, and still my brain commands my jaw to fall open. "You're a virgin?" I point at the spot on the floor by the couch. "Up until just now?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"A little. I mean, if Gail was forcing you to go to nightclubs and stuff, I just thought. . . I don't know."

"What? You thought Gail carted me around Europe and dropped me off at brothels like a daycare center?" Ben waits for me to stop laughing before admitting, "When she was explaining my role as your future husband, she gave me the crumpled up paper speech."

"NO!" I laugh harder, but only because I'm mortified at the thought. I remember the paper speech and the chewing gum speech and the flower speech. Each was it's own form of misogynistic bullshit about purity culture. "She did not. Please tell me you're lying."

"She crumpled up a piece of paper and told me to try and flatten it out so I could write on it the same way I could write on a fresh piece." Ben snorts a laugh. "I told her anyone who wasn't able to write on it any differently that a fresh piece was just embarrassed about their poor penmanship, and it had nothing to do with the paper itself. She was not amused. Got beat for that one."

I don't laugh at this. All that comes out of my mouth is a sad, "Oh."

"Anyway, if it turns out my life clock is ticking it's final minutes, I'd rather not spend them depressed. I have a gift for you," he announces randomly and pushes up from his seat at the kitchen table. "I was saving it for your birthday, but I better give it to you now while I still can." Ben hurries away into his bedroom and returns with a clanking sack of something. Reaching deep inside, he pulls out a small box and hands it to me.

Inside is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever laid eyes on. The gold necklace has a solid metal neckline detailing dozens of different animals set with sparkling bits of blown glass. I can tell he's made this himself, and I can only guess how many weeks or months or years it took him to perfect. It's not a necklace so much as it's a work of art. I smile up at him and ask, "You trade someone for barbecue sauce?"

"No." Amusement spreads across his face. "I stole it from a museum. Will you wear it?"

"I'll wear it right now if you put it on me." The second it's fastened, I take off running for the bathroom mirror, his laughter ringing out behind me. Ben's still seated at the kitchen table when I return.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." And I do. I really do. But I'm also dying to know what the hell else is in that bag. I point a finger and ask, "What's in there?"

He sighs dramatically. "One extravagant necklace isn't good enough for you?"

"No, I'm just nosy."

Ben reaches down and dumps the bag out onto the kitchen table. Dozens of boxes containing rings and bracelets and decorative chainlink shoulder-ware tumble out in front of me. I don't even know where to begin, so I don't bother trying them on one-by-one. With Ben's help, I put on every single thing he's made me over the past 28 years until I'm draped head to toe in gold.

I pose with my arms out, and then I jerk my body back and forth just to hear the metallic tinkling. "I'm going to be the most obnoxious person on this entire island." Ben laughs again, love and affection evident in his eyes, and my laughter devolves into stubborn tears. "This isn't fair," I manage to choke out in-between sobs. "I don't want you to die."

We hold tight for hours, each making our peace with what little time we've been given.

I see love everywhere I go.

It's in the conversations between friends on Hydra. It's in the children who sprint to the beach, screaming their hellos when they see their father has come to visit. It's in the way couples lean in close and try their best to make each other laugh. It's in words, and it's in actions.

There was a time when seeing parents show a genuine interest in their children—not just their sons—that would have given me an emotional meltdown. Now, it brings me peace. There's nothing that can fix the fact that my parents didn't love me, but that's nobody's fault but their own. It's not my fault, and it's not these children's fault. I understand that now, but more importantly, I accept it. Accepting it has set me free.

Now when I see fathers toss their giggling little ones in the air, or teach their daughters self defense, or encourage their sons to help more around the house, a part of me heals.

So when Juliet shows up on Hydra to personally and privately deliver me the news that I'm not pregnant, it takes a solid ten seconds for my brain to figure out how I feel. The first thing out of my mouth is, "Are you sure?"

"It's been 16 days," she answers. "We can usually tell definitively by week two, so your bloodwork is a definite negative."

I had a plan. A plan to not make this more awkward than it needs to be. Everything falls apart the second she starts talking.

"I'm so sorry." It's obvious Juliet wants to hug me, but she's also not entirely sure if I'm dangerous or not. "I wish it were better news."

I wipe my face dry and fight the urge to turn away. "No, I'm relieved." Taking a shaking breath, I say, "I've never been more relieved in my entire life."

"Oh," she says, surprised. "I. . . does he—I'm sorry. It's not my business."

"No, it's okay. Ask away."

"Is it because James doesn't want children?"

I fight every instinct telling me to frown in confusion. Luckily, I'm able to remember that everyone thinks I'm sleeping with him, and I smile sadly instead. "No, he doesn't. So this saves me an awkward conversation. I would really appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"I haven't even told Jack."

"You are at the very top of my Christmas list," I say, laughing. "Oh! Since you're here, you should stay for the Freyja festival in a few days."

"Freyja festival?"

"Christmas. Yule. Freyja festival. Apparently it's all the same thing. It's going to be a whole week of. . . I'm not entirely sure, but if my people are throwing it, it's going to be fun. How is Jack, by the way? Any luck on some kind of healing medicine?"

"No news yet, I'm afraid," Juliet tells me as I walk her to the guesthouses. "Jack's working himself ragged trying to figure out why all of your samples are no different than the rest of ours." Her cheerful smile is less pained than usual, and I can only guess it's because she's getting along so well with him. I guess it makes sense. They're both doctors who just want to fix people.

After setting her up in the guesthouse, I start the walk back to the longhouse to write Ben the good news, but I've barely entered the front door before Pris flags me down.

"There's a very sweaty young man here to see you," she says.

"Karl?" I spot him sitting at a table close to my bedroom, his head cradled miserably in both his hands. "What's wrong?"

Karl jumps up from the table and rushes me. "Lady Cora, you have to help me. Finn's gonna kill me!"

"Okay. Okay. Calm down. Just start from the beginning."

"I was helping my mom bring in the laundry, and then suddenly my mom was gone, and then she just came out of nowhere and started talking to me, and I don't—"

"Who?" I interrupt, but Karl's talking so fast I can barely understand him anyway. "Who started talking to you?"

Karl looks around the longhouse with so much panic in his eyes, I start to worry. "Hazel."

"Okay." I don't like where this is going. "What did she say?"

"She asked me what I was doing on Hydra," he explains a mile a minute, "and I told her I was helping my mom with my little sisters, and then suddenly we were talking about how neither of us wants children, and she seemed really surprised, so I started trying to explain my reasoning, and then she said—" Karl takes a gulping breath. "—and then she said she thinks it's nice that I know what I want, and that I. . . I think she said I wasn't hideous to look at? But that it was a shame she couldn't tell for certain because of my beard. She said I should shave my face and visit her again, and it felt like I was having a stroke, so I said You're asking me to visit you? And she said No, I'm ordering you to. And I don't know what to do, Lady Cora! I was just trying to finish the laundry! I was just trying to finish the laundry!"

"Calm down. Karl? Calm down, everything's going to be okay."

"No it's not!" Karl's fingers shake through his long hair, his entire body trembling at the thought of upsetting his friend. "I think she likes me, which means Finn's going to challenge me to a Holmgang and. . . and. . . I can't fight him! He's my friend! What do I do?"

"Nobody is fighting anybody, I promise." I smile and remain calm in the hopes that he'll believe what I'm about to say. "Do you like Hazel?"

Karl pauses to think. "I don't know. Finn's always liked her, so courting her has never been an option before."

"Well, you think on it." Doing my job is kinda fun. "Let me worry about Finn."

Gail is helping me finish preparing for another rite of passage ceremony at the temple when Finn shows up unannounced with more love woes. He's been spending a lot of time with Alex recently, but despite my third party observation that they would make a great match, neither of them seems to have realized this themselves.

In fact, one of the nights Finn was visiting, he and Alex were hanging out in her room and Ben made me go check on them even though the door was open the entire time. When I peeked inside, Alex was holding up two CDs and asked him to choose between Backstreet Boys or Nsync while he started complaining that nobody told him he had to choose. Alex immediately said "wrong!" and told him the answer is neither because Hazel hates boy bands. Finn literally screamed like he was dying.

Now, just as dramatic as ever, Finn flops at my feet and rests his head in my lap. "Lady Cora, I'm never going to meet another woman like Hazel, and I'm going to die miserable and alone."

I keep my head up but look down at him with my eyes as Gail finishes painting my face. "I've met Hazel. Trust me, you don't want to marry her. She's kinda. . ." Back home, she would have been goth or punk or emo or some other kind of subculture.

"Weird? I know," Finn clarifies miserably. "That's the entire reason I like her!"

"Finn? You know," I suggest slowly, "I was thinking. You and Alex have been spending a lot of time together. What about. . . her?"

Finn gives me a look of surprise, and then he bursts out laughing, only stopping when I don't join in. "Oh, you're being serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack."

You'd think I'd just suggested he fling himself into the sun. Both hands find his fauxhawk and worry it as he tells me, "No, no, no, Lady Cora. I can't marry Alex. It would never work!"

"Why not?" I can't help but feel defensive on her behalf. "Do you not like being around her?"

"What?" Finn looks confused at the question. "No. Of course I do. She's a riot."

"Do you not find her attractive?"

Finn blows a raspberry. "She's probably the most beautiful woman on all of Hydra."

"Is she obnoxious?"

"Not at all."

"I'm not seeing a problem here, Finn."

Finn looks around to make sure we're still alone, and then he leans in close and whispers, "She's the only one who knows I peed my pants when I was nine. An octopus grabbed me with its tentacle, and I'm terrified of octopuses. If any of the guys find out, they'll never let me hear the end of it."

"Uh-huh." I stare at him in confusion, but he just stares blankly back. "Okay," I say, "let me see if I'm understanding this. You can't marry someone you find beautiful, funny, who shares your hobbies, and you trust enough to keep your most embarrassing secrets?"

Finn nods, happy that I understand, and then his face goes blank as he finally understands. "Oh, wait, I think I see your point."

"Right." I stand, already laughing, and head for the door leading out into the courtyard. "Well, you think on it and we'll talk again soon."

"You're taking off your dress? Here?"

Making sure to keep it away from the sludgy ground, I roll up my gown and place it on a clean patch of moss. I used to think corsets were for contorting your body into the slimmest shape possible, but now I understand my gowns are corseted to support my chest without the need for a bra, which is great when I want a strapless dress but bad when I need to take it off so I don't get mud all over it. Humid island air feels strange against my bare breasts. This is the first time I've been naked out in the open.

I frown up at Ben and ask, "Why are you complaining?"

"I mean—" Ben looks around the surrounding trees, but it's no use. His eyes always trail back to me. Thankfully, the light of his iris's have dulled to a barely detectable glow over time, and as far as I know, nobody has questioned it. "Someone might see you."

"Shut up before I make you come down here in my place," I shout up at him from the bottom of a muddy ravine. "I'm doing you a favor being down here alone. And I like this dress. I'm not about to put Pris through the headache of trying to get mud stains out of it."

"Fine," he relents a little too easily. "But if I see anyone come within range, I'm shooting them."

"Don't shoot anyone," I huff under my breath and start sifting through the mud with my boots.

After a while, Ben asks, "What are you looking for, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. Remember how I said this tree looked familiar? I think I may have seen it one of the times I died. Can't think of any other reason it would look familiar. Hey," I shout when my boot kicks against something lodged deep in the mud. "I found something!"

"What is it?"

Even thought it's completely covered in mud, I can tell the shape is human. "Oh no."

"It's a dead body, isn't it?"

"Worse." I squat to get a better look, and suddenly I want to throw up.

"What's worse than a dead body?"

I swallow down bile as I stare at a pile of small skeletal remains still dressed in a tunic. "It's a kid."

One thing he's never outright told me—but I've observed all on my own—is that Ben hates being dirty. He hates it so much, I've even started carrying Dharma brand wet wipes in my satchel just in case he needs one. I can always fall back on the excuse that they're for the children if he asks, since the last thing I want is to make him feel awkward. But despite all that, as soon as the words of my discovery were out of my mouth, Ben slid down the incline and into the mud beside me to help me calm down.

It was a whole ordeal. Ben helped me gather and wrap up the bones, clothing, and a sword much too big for the boy, so we could carry them back to the Temple. Miles was called in to hear the final thoughts of the boy, as the entire community waited on bated breath. A collective sigh of pure relief echoed through the Temple when Miles announced he hadn't been murdered and had slipped down the steep hillside and died on impact.

Turns out the boy's name was Bo, and he has only one living family member—a giant of a man by the name of Leif, who the Bears are all too eager to tell me is the most renowned rugby player in island history. And maybe he was once. Now? All I see is a grieving older brother. Without saying a word to anyone, Leif collected the remains of his eternally-young brother and set off to finally lay him to rest on a flaming ship pushed out to sea.

Freyja festival was supposed to kick off yesterday, but I've been so depressed I had Gail postpone it until I'm not constantly thinking about the dead child I found in the middle of the jungle. I haven't been able to force myself back to Hydra ever since. I don't want to see any children and be reminded of how fragile their lives are.

I sit in one of the many common areas in the Temple while the Bears sit all around me and eat with a ravenous hunger. But I can't eat. Even the smell of food makes me nauseous. I can't stop thinking about how that poor little boy will never eat or drink or laugh or cry ever again. It's not fair, and it depresses me that I can't do anything about it.

Kyle's deep voice cuts through the clanging of silverware against dishes. "Are you alright, my lady?"

I look across the table to give another customary lie about how I'm just tired, when I feel something cold and wet soak into the back of my dress. I cry out, arching my back as if this can save me from the disgusting sensation of wet clothing clinging to my skin. When I spin around, one of the many unmarried men huffs a laugh, an empty goblet of wine in one hand.

"Apologies, my lady," he says. "I tripped."

Ben immediately shoots up from his seat, but I grab a fistful of his sleeve to keep him still. "Leave it alone," I order sternly. I am so not in the mood for this shit. "It was just an accident."

"No," Ben seethes, but his anger is not directed at me. "He did that on purpose."

"Calm down, little ferret," the man sneers at Ben. "Lady Cora is right. It was just an accident. I'm sure our lady has plenty of other beautiful dresses she can wear. No harm done."

Finn's father—who is usually smiling 24/7—glares at the man and starts saying something in Norse. Kyle pipes in at one point, then Ben says something that makes the table of unmarried men seated at the table across the room

The man says something else. A single sentence. All I understand is one word. A swear word. Maya taught me all the swear words. I don't know everything he just said, but I do know he just called me whore.

The hall falls completely silent with the anticipation of a fight, but Ben and the rest of the Bears just look intensely confused, like they can't wrap their head around what he's just said.

I can't remember his name, but I've seen this man before. Usually, he sticks to a specific clique of unmarried young men and doesn't talk to me or anyone on team Bear. He's much taller and heavier than Ben, which probably doesn't bode well for his chances at another Holmgang. And from the way Ben is staring, the thought of him blurting out a request to avenge my honor isn't far fetched.

Luckily, Ben doesn't need to avenge my honor. He never even gets the chance to.

Leif is so quiet, I didn't even know he was in this room. He doesn't say a word as he passes by our table and strides towards the man. All the smugness wipes clean from the much shorter man's face as Leif relentlessly pursues him until he gets backed up against a table. With nowhere else to go, the man cowers down onto a seat like a child, and the silence is deafening. Much like a wolf course correcting an unruly pup, Leif's message is in what's not being said aloud. Every man at the table averts his eyes, except for the one who spoke to me. He stares wide-eyed up at the most renowned sports star in island history until shame forces him to avert his eyes.

Out of nowhere, Leif speaks in the deepest baritone I've ever heard in my entire life. It surprises me. It surprises every single person in the hall, actually.

"You stupid young bucks." Eyes drop down to the table in shame, but that doesn't stop Leif from burning holes into each and every one of them. "If I catch so much as a sniff from any one of you—" His baritone cuts off sharply, leaving the threat hanging heavy in the silence. Suddenly, there's noise in the form of wood scraping stone as Leif lifts up the table with one hand and shoves it hard enough to cause the sitting men to scatter. "Try your best not to cause your families irreparable shame while you're still alive. Because if I ever hear that shit again, you won't have time to pray to any of your gods before I end you."

Those men don't respect me, but they do respect their hero, Leif. And their hero just called them cowards and threatened to kill them on my behalf.

Fights are much more common at the Temple than they should be, but after they're over, everything always goes back to normal. But when Leif exits out into the nearest hallway, the usual hum of amused chatter doesn't follow in his wake. Even Finn's father doesn't have anything to say.

Turns out Leif isn't some old antisocial grump with a chip on his shoulder. No, it turns out Leif just has massive social anxiety. After dinner, I went to privately thank him for sticking up for me, and we had a very enlightening talk. It took a little bit of coaxing on my end, but we eventually talked, and he's a sweetheart. An absolute sweetheart who doesn't know how to read English.

So, naturally, we strike a deal because these people love striking deals. I teach Leif how to read English and he teaches me how to read runes. Every night this week has been spent in his room at the Temple, teaching each other by candlelight.

I like Lief. He never makes me feel uncomfortable, and I'd like to think my company helps him feel a little less lonely. I'm well versed in all the ways depression can wreak havoc on your ability to seek out the company of others, and Leif hasn't sought out the company of anyone since his younger bother went missing almost 20 years ago. My nights spent teaching him English are just as much a rewarding friendship as any of the friendships I've made on Hydra.

It's a night like any other night when I return to my room after a long but successful lesson and find Ben unexpectedly waiting for me on a chair by the fireplace.

"Hey," I call to him as I hang up my cloak in my wardrobe. "I didn't know you'd be visiting." My stomach does a flip when he doesn't respond. Bad news from the barracks? What's happened this time? "Are you okay?"

Ben stares into the crackling fireplace, turning at last to ask, "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

I rack my memories to see if I can remember doing something to piss him off, but I come up empty. "No?"

According to Ben's muted upset, whatever I did is borderline unforgivable. His eyes remain fixed on something across the room. They dart over to look at me without warning. "How long has it been going on?"

"How long has what—?"

"Don't," he cuts me off with one hand raised, as if to waft away my answer. "Please just tell me the truth."

"Ben, I'm sorry, but I genuinely don't understand what you're asking."

"How long have you been—?" It takes him a second to get the question out. "How long have you been sleeping with Leif?"

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Usually, when I'm this upset, I laugh to help release some of the nerves. But I just stare at him, silent. "I'm not sleeping with him," I finally answer. "I'm teaching him how to read."

Instead of apologizing, Ben just seems to get more upset. "Is that some kind of euphemism I'm unaware of?"

Ben's supposed to be above all this. He's supposed to believe me no matter what. Why is he doing this? I'm calm, and it kinda scares me. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've been expecting me to have an affair." As I continue to stare at him in disbelief, my stomach feels like a bottomless pit, and my heart physically hurts. "Random men can call me a whore because I don't care what they have to say. But you? I don't know. I guess I thought you'd be different. My mistake." I hold up a hand when he tries to apologize. "Get. Out."

I can only guess what thoughts are racing through his mind as he tries to gain control of the situation. I'm not sure what it is that convinces him, but I can see the moment he realizes I'm being serious. By then, it's too late. Now I'm angry.

We've fought a few times before, but never like this. Usually when we fight, we just have sex and then we're not mad anymore. Right now, I don't want to have sex with him. Right now, I'm so repulsed by his accusation that I don't know if I ever want to have sex with him again.

"If you say one more word," I threaten, "I will never speak to you again. Get out, now."

Depression is a bitch. Or maybe I'm not depressed? I don't know. It was easy to tell I was depressed after I was attacked by that psycho who was originally after Alex. Back then, I couldn't eat or sleep and had no desire to leave my room. This time it feels different, and yet it feels exactly the same. Like I'm rotting from the inside out. Only, this time I have just enough energy to force myself out into the sun.

One night, completely spontaneously, I look at myself in the mirror and have a complete and utter nervous breakdown. Grabbing a pair of heavy metal scissors, I hack through my thick braid until my nearly shortened bob springs free and fans around my face. Now I can't stop staring at myself in my bedroom mirror in an attempt to figure out if I like it or not.

"Cora?"

"One second, Gail." I finish wiping off my table and fluff my newly shortened hair, still unsure what I think. "Sorry," I say as I swing open the door, "I was just—"

Gail eyes my hair with a hint of confusion and steps to the side, allowing Ben more room in the doorway. An overwhelming mixture of sheer terror, immeasurable joy, and deathly rage paralyze me as it sinks in that he's here.

"Cora?" Gail says loudly, and I have no idea how many times she was trying to get my attention. "Will you be needing anything else? I'm going to turn in for the night."

"No," I whisper. "No," I say louder. "Thank you, Gail. Goodnight."

Ben and I stare at each other while we wait for Gail to walk the length of the longhouse and leave. I refuse to speak first, no matter how long our game of chicken lasts.

"I can continue standing out here if you'd like," Ben offers. "Although, I must admit, it makes me feel a bit like a vampire."

I don't laugh. I don't invite him in. I don't say anything at all because my expression tells him everything he needs to know.

Ben clears his throat. "You seem surprised to see me."

"That's because I didn't call for you."

"Yes, well, my apology wasn't exactly one I could fulfill by simply writing you another letter. I assume you tossed them all in the fireplace without reading them?" What little hope he was clinging to vanishes as my expression hardens even more. "Cora," he begs in little more than a breath, "please let me apologize."

With a jerk of my arm, I beckon him inside and slam the door behind him. Frowning with everything I've got, I cross my arms and snap, "What?"

"Cora, my anger had absolutely nothing to do with your virtue and everything to do with…" Ben pauses, and I have no idea why admitting he was jealous is such a big deal. "Fine," he finally admits. "You want me to say I was jealous? There. I was jealous."

I can't roll my eyes hard enough. "Yeah, no shit. I know that."

"No. No, you don't know," he says in a nervous rush, hesitating on the last words. "I was jealous of the both of you."

What does that even mean? "Oh my God," I yell, leaning forward in anticipation. "Are you gay? I knew it!"

"Why are you yelling?" Ben's entire expression wrinkles with confusion. "And I'm not gay, I—wait, what do you mean you knew it?" When I don't offer up an answer, he continues to explain. "I was jealous that you got to spend time with him. He never talks to anyone! Not even his old Wolf teammates. I've never actually heard him speak words before."

"Oh. Okay. So. . . you don't have a crush on him?"

"No," Ben says pointedly, but his serious expression softens with nervous worry. "But would that be a bad thing?"

"You can have a crush on him. It's okay."

"I don't," he snaps, frustrated, and I immediately stop teasing him. "I'm just asking if that would be. . . if it would—" Ben tries a few times to finish his question, to no avail.

"Hey." I raise my hands up, palm out. "Whatever it is you're trying to say, you can tell me. I promised I would never laugh at you."

"Do you like kissing me?"

"Of course I do."

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," he says up at the ceiling. "Ever wonder why I'm good at it?" I can tell he panics at the last second and changes his answer. I can feel his nerves firing off like crazy. "I'm a natural born kisser, that's why."

"Who was it?" Annie. It was totally Annie. Ben looks so uncomfortable, I start to feel bad. In an effort to make him laugh, I ask, "Come on, you can tell me. Who did you enlist to help you train in the art of smooching?"

Ben swipes a hand across his rapidly sweating forehead. "Promise you won't be angry?"

Wow, he's really nervous to tell me. Oh, Jesus, was it Gail? I am not prepared for the level of messed up that is. "I promise."

Ben takes a deep breath and admits, "Kyle."

"Oh! I totally should have guessed that. Wait," I ask, deeply confused, "so. . . you are gay?'

"No," he says, exasperated. "It doesn't have anything to do with him being a man and you being a woman. All that matters to me… is that he is Kyle and you are Miss Collins."

All the love rising up in my heart stalls at the end of his sentence. Miss Collins? Teacher me. Way before he knew me as Freyja. Back when he thought I was a regular mortal. Nothing special about me except for who I am. That's the moment he fell in love with me. He fell in love with me all on his own.

I used to think maybe Ben wanted to sleep with a deity, or maybe even a monster, but now I think he just wants to sleep with his mom. Or, at least someone who fills that gaping hole in his heart where she should have been.

"Do you still love him?" I ask. "Kyle?"

"Of course I still love him. I'll always love him. Love doesn't have to mean I want to have sex with him. That ship sailed many, many years ago. Sometimes things just don't work out." Ben looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You're not mad?"

"About what? So you kissed a guy? Who cares? Seriously, nobody cares."

"His wife would care."

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Does it change what we have? Do you still find me attractive?"

Ben immediately looks exasperated. "I wasn't lying about that!"

"Yes, but do you find this attractive?" I pull my dress down over my boobs and immediately reverberate with the force of his attraction. "Oh," I say with a hint of surprise. "Honey, you're just bi."

"You want me to leave?"

"No, not bye," I start laughing, but it looks like Ben misunderstands.

I'm not laughing at him. In fact, the more I think about what he's just confessed, the less funny the situation becomes. He's always freely offering up embarrassing or complicated secrets about himself, and I haven't really shared much beyond the worst night of my life. And even then, I was lying about what really happened. I trust him, don't I?

"I don't know why I was so nervous to tell you." Ben lets out a shaky sigh of relief. "You're one of very few people who understands." His eyes trail over to me, and he smiles when he notices my confusion. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it."

All the red flags in my brain start firing off at once until I'm lightheaded. "Embarrassed about what?"

"Listen," he says, "I'm not going to lie and say I'm ecstatic, but I've thought about it, and I realized that if sleeping with…listen, you can sleep with whoever you want, and I promise I won't get mad about it." He waves a hand around in the air like that's only a partially true statement. "Well, I can at least promise not to get mad while you're around."

"What are you talking about?" Why would he be pushing for me to have an affair? I've never once mentioned I wanted an affair. What the hell? "Are you having an affair?"

Ben looks both confused and insulted. "I'm not having an affair! You're having an affair! Good gods, you're making this much more difficult than it needs to be. I'm trying to be nice."

"Why would you think that? I literally just told you I'm not sleeping with Leif!"

"This isn't about him." Ben studies me in silence while I try to figure out what he means. "Oh. This is awkward."

"Yeah, you think?"

"I'm sorry, it's just. . . there was a moment there when I was sure I was losing out to Kate. Which, I mean, fair, but—"

I cut him off with an angry, "What are you talking about?"

Ben shoots me a heavy-lidded annoyed look. "Oh please. You still flirt with that woman to this day. You were flirting with her just last week right in front of me."

"No I wasn't—"

"See my memories," he demands, smiling. "It sounds like you need a refresher. Go on."

"I don't need to see your memories because I already know I have never flirted with Kate. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No," he snaps in a deceptively calm tone. That's when I notice there's no magic pull wafting off him. He's actually angry. "That's the entire reason I'm bringing it up. It's insulting to have my wife flirting with someone else while I'm standing right there. Not that it would be any better if I wasn't there, but at least I wouldn't have to see it."

"Well then you're in luck," I yell. "Because I wasn't flirting with her!"

Ben taps at his temple with an index finger. "You need to see this from another perspective."

"Fine," I shout so loud it feels like the longhouse is trembling. "Fine," I say calmly. "But just so I can prove that you're wrong."

The memory starts off exactly how I remember it. Ben and I were walking to the longhouse in one of the rare instances we actually had to talk island policy, when I saw Kate hanging out near the well.

I like talking to Kate. From what I can remember, she was hardly anyones die-hard favorite in the show. I remember there were internet groups dedicated to bashing her character, and although I never participated, I'm ashamed to have had a bias against her simply because she slept with a bunch of characters. After getting to know her better, I don't understand why she was so unpopular. Who cares about who she slept with? It doesn't change who she is as a person. She's sweet and caring and considerate and really hot.

Really hot? I mean, she is, but what does that have to do with anything?

All my confidence weans, as I see the memory of myself glide—literally glide on thin air—over to her and ask, "Who let you out of the orchards?"

Kate smiles at the comment and hooks her thumbs through the belt straps of her jeans, rocking back and forth on her heals. "Sorry. James showed up during my shift and ruined the vibe. I can go back, if you want. I promise I'm not trying to escape."

"Good." I can see why Ben would think this is flirting, but it's totally not. Girls can find other girls attractive and it's not weird, right? I thought that was the entire perk of being a girl? Everything is homoerotic, and it's completely normal. "Because we have cages on this island, and I'd hate to have to lock you in one." Okay, wait. That one actually sounded seductive.

I nervously glance up at Ben, but he just gives me an annoyed look and points for me to pay attention. Kate makes a joke about geese, and I start laughing like it's the funniest thing I've ever heard.

"That joke wasn't funny," Ben comments.

"No," I reluctantly agree. "No, it wasn't. But. . . I was just being nice."

James calls to us from out of the jungle, but he doesn't get the chance to proposition Kate further because I step in front of her like a small little shield. "Is the whole beach-bum-from-the-back-hills thing doing it for you, Kate?" Kate doesn't answer, so I answer for her. "She doesn't want to talk to you, James. Go away."

I didn't see it then, but I notice it now. James knows. He knows and his surprise is momentary before it turns into a stunned nod of defeat and he wanders off with a dazed look in his eyes.

As soon as James is out of earshot, I turn back to Kate and touch her arm. Why am I touching her? "Did I tell you he's been a real pain in the ass ever since he found out I'm part Italian?"

Kate looks amused. "How?"

"He won't stop adding A's to the end of every word, as if that suddenly makes it Italian." I roll my eyes. "Heya! It'sa da Cora! Whya don'ta you makea da spaghetti?"

Kate snorts a laugh but quickly tries to stifle it with a cough.

Panic squeezes my lungs until I can't breathe, so I turn towards the door, and fling myself out of Ben's mind.

"Do you believe me now?" Ben smiles smugly until he notices I'm having trouble breathing. "Hey, Cora, it's alright. I'm not actually mad." But his words don't help my panic. "Cora," he asks, sounding marginally more worried. "Cora, please say something. You're scaring me."

Guilt gnaws at my stomach until I blurt out, "I want you to see something. Can I show you a memory?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. You're very upset right now."

"Please," I beg in a breathy sob.

I show him what happened, but I don't watch. I don't need to watch. I lived it. Turning away from the sight of myself returning home from my first day of 1st grade, I try to block out the memory of how eager I was to tell my mother all about my new crushes—the boy who sat to my left and the girl who sat in front of me. I was trying to explain what exactly I liked about each of them when she completely lost it. Both my hands flinch up to cover my ears and drown out the terrible things my mother screamed at me. Terrible things that have followed me my entire life.

Ben's arms wrap around my shoulders as he guides me back out the door and away from the sight of a frightened child being slapped over and over by her religious mother.

We sit on my bed in the Temple as I try to calm down by aggressively chewing my thumbnail. I haven't chewed any of my fingernails since I was child. To his credit, Ben doesn't leave after finding out the truth.

I feel his hand in mine before he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm great." I pull my thumb out of my mouth and try to practice the many anxiety mitigation techniques I've been working on with Harper. Be in the now, she's always saying. "I didn't expect to feel so relieved telling someone. And I'm sorry about Kate. I honestly didn't realize I was flirting, so I promise I'll stop."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I'll. . . make my peace with it."

"Ben, I don't want Kate anymore than you want Kyle."

Ben's grip on my hand tightens just a little. "You don't?"

I squeeze back and say, "I don't. Honestly." Ben is my daddy issues, and Kate is my mommy issues. But I don't love Kate. I don't even know Kate. I don't think I could ever have sex with someone I wasn't in love with. "Huh."

"What?"

"You and Kate? I just realized I don't have a type."

"Of course you have a type," he corrects, smiling. "Sad brunettes."

He loves me. He loves all of me. We still choose each other. After everything, we still choose each other over the what-ifs and the could-have-beens.

"Do you want to. . ." I pause for only a few seconds before sighing. "Do you want to maybe. . . see more of my memories?"

Back and forth we hop from one of my memories to one of his. It's scary at first. So scary, in fact, that there are multiple embarrassing memories of mine that literally make me want to throw up. But when I look over and see Ben isn't laughing, it gets easier to share moments of my life without feeling the need to add caveats.

I step into one of his memories and recognize the main storage cellar in the Temple. Kyle is wrapping something up in cloth while Ben sits on a barrel, gently tapping at his swollen eye and nose and cheek.

Kyle gives a humph and presses some ice wrapped in cheesecloth against Ben's massive black eye. "You just had to say something."

"He was asking for it," Ben complains.

"You couldn't have waited until we were there to back you up? You know the Falcons roam in packs. They would have killed you if I didn't happen to be nearby."

I only recognize the both of them because of the polaroid Ben showed me. As I step closer, I smile at how much smaller the two of them are at this age.

"Do you think she'll be exactly like she was before the rebirth?" Ben asks randomly. "Or do you think she's going to be a completely different person?"

"Good question," Kyle responds without actually answering. "What do you think kissing your wife will be like?"

"Don't talk about my wife, Kyle," Ben snarls, but it's obviously in jest when he says, "Or I'll have to challenge you to a Holmgang, and then I'll overpower you with my obvious superior strength, and the Bears will lose their beloved team captain, and all of this will somehow be my fault."

One second they're laughing, and then suddenly Kyle leans in until their mouths touch.

Ben immediately pulls away from him. "What?!"

"Sorry," Kyle says, backpedaling. "I'm so sorry. I. . . thought you were like me."

"I'm not gay!"

"I'm not gay either."

Ben wipes his lips on his sleeve. "You just kissed me!"

"Yeah?" Kyle crosses his arms self consciously. "But I still like girls. Like, a lot."

"Then why did you kiss me?"

"Because I like you, too."

"That doesn't make any sense." Ben hops off the barrel and points at his friend. "You're not making any sense!"

"Look, I know you're scared about Freyja's rebirth, so maybe if you practice, it'll be one less thing to be afraid of."

Ben's halfway to the door when he stops and turns around. "Just kissing?" He clarifies. "Because you're right. I need to practice so I don't completely mess everything up. Its illegal to practice on Annie, now that she's engaged, and I don't have anyone else I trust."

"I know."

"No," Ben snaps, "you don't. It's not you that has to impress a goddess. You have absolutely no idea what I'm feeling right now."

Even though he's already confessed this scene to me, Ben's obviously uncomfortable at the sight of his first kiss. I grab hold of his hand and pull us back out the door.

"Come on," I announce when we're back in the black void. "Let's just go back to the Temple and we can—"

"Oh, no you don't," Ben interrupts. "Let's see another one of your awkward tween memories. Come on," he begs, and for the first time, he sounds completely authentically himself. "One more? It's only fair, right?"

"Fine," I relent, and he takes off running. "Not so fast! You have longer legs, and you won't shut up about them, so slow down!"

He's still laughing when I catch up to the door he's chosen. "I pick this one."

"Is it unlocked?"

Ben knocks, and the door opens just a crack. It's enough of an invitation for him to fling the door open and pull me inside.

All of the blood in my body drains out through my feet into pools of fear that pop and sizzle around me.

"We have to go." Why did I just whisper? "We have to go," I try again, but my voice is nothing but a indecipherable breath broken up into a million pieces. Our family heirloom—the only one my mother ever convinced my father to keep—chimes 2am, and I'm thirteen all over again. "We have to go!"

Ben looks down at me, really looks down, and says, "Why are you so small?"

But I'm not listening. All my attention is focused on trying to get the door open so we can leave the memory of what really happened that night. Ben pulls me away when I break a fingernail clawing at the wood.

"Cora, it's locked. Cora, can you hear me? It's locked and only you can unlock it and let us out. Cora? Cora?" He kneels in front of me and waves a hand in front of my thirteen year old face currently preoccupied with keeping an eye on the door behind him. Mother's screams echo from down the hallway. "Cora? I can't open it for you. You need to unlock the door so we can leave."

Both my hands press tightly against my ears as I slide down to the floor, trembling and chocking on snot. Mom screams to stop, but it won't work. It's never once worked in all the years I've heard her screaming.

Our bedroom door that leads out into the hall opens, and Ben hurries towards it, all too eager to leave this awful place. But he's going the wrong way. The door out of here is behind me. That's the door that leads to him.

"No!" I try to get Ben's attention, but my voice won't work. "He'll kill you!"

I can't chase after him because I can't ever bear to see what's waiting for me in the living room—what was waiting for me that night at 2am.

Turns out I don't have to worry about Ben. He comes back all on his own, white as a ghost. "This isn't what you said happened," he whispers, unfocused, like he's talking to himself. "I need to get you out of here, but I can't unlock this door for you. You have to let us out yourself."

But I'm not listening to him. I'm too busy listening to my mother. I just want him to stop hurting her. I just want to keep us safe from him.

My mind stills with a calm, yet unexplainable rage as I surge with power. Ignoring whatever Ben is trying to tell me, his presence dulls to background noise as I turn towards the door and head into the hallway.

"Stay here," I order. Ben looks confused when I shove him into the hallway bathroom and slam the door shut in his face. I don't want them to see me like this. I don't want them to know what I am. I can't let them see me like this because I so desperately need them to see me as their sister for a little longer.

I pass by the living room without watching and head towards the kitchen.

Somehow Ben's gotten free of the bathroom—although, to be fair, that only worked on my siblings because they were so young they couldn't figure out the door locks from the inside. "Cora?" I feel his urgency pulsate like the echoes of a firecracker, but there's nothing that can stop the past from happening all over again.

I choose the sharpest knife we have in the kitchen.

Ben's trying to talk to me again, but doesn't he understand? I'm trying to save him. I'm trying to show him exactly the kind of monster he married, so he can stop chasing me around like a puppy and fear me as everyone else does. I need him to know that I did not—and do not—regret what happens next.

I scream for no other reason than to ensure dad knows it was me.

Over and over I stab, both hands on the handle, screaming as loud as my voice will allow, fueled by the desire to keep us safe. Until, suddenly, mom pulls me off what's left of him and the knife slices my thigh open, soiling my blood with his.

We are one and the same. Me and my father. There's a violent monster inside us.

It's what my mother says over and over, for all my life. A prayer to the demon child she bore. You are just like him. Mother screams, Italian mixing with English until her words ring loudly in every language ever spoken.

She is not the one covered in blood. I am. The only blood on her runs down one leg as she stands over me and asks me how we're supposed to eat? Don't I know how expensive it is to live? How will we afford rent now that I've killed him?

I realize only now that she was protecting me in the only way she knew how. Our mother had all her softness ripped apart by the same man who forced me inside her for nine months. My sisters came much later, after the damage had already been done. My sisters are not responsible for my mother being forced to marry her rapist. No, that was my fault. And she tells me as often as she can.

"I just wanted to help you," I try to explain, but she's not listening. "I just wanted to help you."

Even after Ben has lifted me up into his arms and hurried us both back to the now unlocked door, I can't stop repeating this phrase over and over until I blink out of my stupor and realize we're back in my bedroom at the Temple.

"Well," I try to say as evenly as I can, but my voice shakes despite my best effort. "Now you know. That's what really happened."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" I'm suddenly so annoyed, I can't stand the sight of him. "I killed my father."

"Yes. I know. I was just there." To my surprise, Ben doesn't look disgusted or afraid, he looks impressed. "You did good. Your knife bounced off a few bones, but you just kept going."

"I killed him." I wait for him to leave, but Ben's not leaving, and now I'm confused. "I'm a murderer."

"You killed a rapist actively raping. Good riddance. I'm glad of it." Ben cradles my confused face in his hands. "I only wish I could have done it for you."

I have never felt so alive as when I'm the Goddess of Death, controlling the mind, body, and soul of an adorable little mortal man. He's the sort of well-trained husband that makes me sad at the thought of killing him. I think my every demand and he rushes to complete it. I could never kill such a happily obedient husband.

But Ben hasn't been entirely truthful. I can see in his eyes. He's actually just a tiny bit afraid of death.

What do I do? I don't want him to be afraid of death! I want him to be comfortable with all of me.

Comfort him. Take away his fear of death forever, so he never has to fear me again.

"Be brave, Benjamin," I whisper encouragingly and reach out to touch his temple. "Don't you want to be immortalized forever in legend? What's more magical than stories? These people will die unremembered, but you? You will live forever in their grand tales of your great conquest." Breathy words caress him just as gently as my hands do. "Benjamin Linus: he who conquered Death. Wow," I comment on the sudden pull of magic. "You really love this, don't you?" I force him to walk over to my desk, grab the knife he offered me all those nights ago, and press the blade to his throat, just hard enough to nic him. Smiling, I recite the threat he made when we first met. "I could slit your throat wide open." This time, I add a little bit of extra flair and wiggle my finger from side to side, watching as his head swivels helplessly around on his shoulders. "Better yet, I could make you slit your throat wide open."

We're the same, Ben and I. We understand each other in a way nobody else will. He sees the monster inside of me, and he doesn't flee in fear or anger or disgust. His monster is in love with mine, and mine with his.

Which makes me feel extra guilty when I notice the blood on his neck. I panic, quickly forcing him to release the knife he's holding against his own throat. "Are you okay?"

"Say what you will about me." Ben gulps air, chuckling lowly, as he swipes at his neck and shows me the red dripping from his fingers. "But at least I've never drawn your blood, Goddess."

"I didn't mean to."

Ben scoffs dismissively. "Don't lie."

Wait, he's right. I don't know why, but I kinda did want to stab him. But only because he was enjoying it. He wants me to hurt him, but I don't actually want to hurt him.

But wait, if he was right about me, then he must be like me. And if he's like me, then does that mean…

I go over the memory in my head one more time, viewing it through a different lens. "You wanted to stab me that night, didn't you?"

Ben knows what I'm talking about because he blinks one too many times. "What?"

"The night you threatened me on Hydra." I immediately stop his head from shaking a refusal and hold tight to his body with my magic. He's uncomfortable and attempts to look away, but he's powerless to stop me from forcing his eyes to meet mine. "Yes, you did," I seethe through clenched teeth. "I can hear your thoughts. Why are you lying to me?"

"This isn't fair," he complains, a spark of actual anger shining through. "They're called intrusive thoughts precisely because they're intrusive! I never would have actually stabbed you."

"But you thought about it?"

Ben stares me down, but it's not a long wait until he relents with a defeated, "Technically speaking, I thought about it. But I never would have done it."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"Cora, what do you think trust is? I could kill you whenever I want. You could kill me whenever you want. And we don't." He learns forward just enough to get out a sarcastic, "Yay."

All the magic severs as I release him and take a step back. Not a big step, but enough so his breath isn't hot against my neck. "Why didn't you do it?"

Ben looks intensely irritated that I'm not dropping this. "I didn't want to."

"If you were thinking about it, why didn't you do it?"

"Because I didn't want to." 28 years of unspoken words flow between us in a single sentence. "Maybe the idea forced its way in at first, but it disappeared almost instantly."

"But why?"

"You looked sad," he admits softly. "And. . . I realized I didn't like making you sad. I much prefer to make you laugh."

It's hard to speak through the lump in my throat. "You really wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

Ben shakes his head no. "Not unless you ask me to."

"Wait a second," I butt in. "You absolutely could not kill me whenever you want."

Ben's euphoric expression flatlines into a sarcastic frown. "You're joking. I could kill you by sneezing too hard."

"You could not! I'm literally holding a knife!"

"Yes," he warns, finally looking worried. "Don't come any closer, or you'll trip and fall and impale yourself and somehow it'll be all my fault. That's just what I need," he adds snidely. "More of your problems I'll have to fix."

"More of my problems?"

I'm literally wielding a knife, but Ben couldn't look more unbothered. "It's always something with you," he comments slowly.

I start about six different rage-fueled sentences before I realize he's been submitting to me this entire time, and I'm only just now picking up on the magic. I calm down enough to appreciate the game. Looks like he really likes Goddess of Death. "Oh, you're good."

"So are you," Ben praises, but he's trying really hard not to smile. "I'm just better."

Maybe I'd be more upset at being manipulated if he wasn't giving me enough power to feel drunk. "Fine. You win." I keep my eyes locked on his and toss the knife away. With one stiff index finger, I poke his chest, punctuating each word. "But I could kill you if I wanted to."

"Then do it."

"I. . . I don't want to." I falter at the serious expression on his face. "But I could."

"Go on." Ben's taunts make it clear he's poking fun at the situation, but it still makes me angry. "Kill me. Crush my mortal skull between your hands. Go on. Kill me, almighty Cora. Look! I'll even close my eyes to make it easier for you."

Even though I know he's doing this to make me mad so he can get what he wants, I let him win. With nothing more than a thought, I make him grab another knife and hold it to his throat. I think I like having a man fear me. Dad should have feared me. Power screams through my veins with unbelievable power. "I could end you with the flick of my finger." But he's not dad, and I don't want to kill him. "Do you trust me not to?"

Ben's answer is immediate. "Mind, body, and soul."

"Why?" It's difficult to see him through the tears that have come from out of nowhere. My magical control severs, and his body relaxes from all the tension. Stop crying. You're ruining this! "I'm sorry I'm this way. I don't actually want to hurt you."

"I know," he says encouragingly. "That's the entire point. You could kill me." A small amused smile spreads across his face. "But I trust you not to."

"Is it okay if I'm not Goddess of Death tonight?" Panic thrashes around inside me until I feel like I'm going to throw up if I don't tell him. "I want to submit."

All the light in the world dims to darkness as every ounce of blood in my body pools between my legs, leaving me lightheaded in the most euphoric way.

Oh. Wow. Okay. I see why you like this.

Are you alright?

Yeah, just. . . I guess I wasn't expecting it to be such a drastic difference. This is. . . a lot.

We can stop if you want.

No! I must sound desperate because his hesitation weans almost instantly. I think about what I want, but Ben doesn't move. When he looks at me, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach at the sight of his glowing eyes.

"Did you just. . ." Ben looks at his hands in amazement. "Did you just give me all of your magic?"

I don't know why, but I push him to test the theory, and I might as well be pushing a brick wall. Fear and lust mix together in an inexplicably complicated rush of pure carnal need. "Oh," I stutter, "I didn't mean to do that. Can I have it back?"

Ben smiles, but it's not the kind that wrinkle his eyes. "Already?"

"I don't think I like this," I whisper.

"Yes, you do," he ponders, his eyes shifting curiously as he reads my mind. "You love this."

"Nuh-uh," I lie, but it's no use.

"You're cute when you're shy." Ben narrows his eyes in thought, staring at something across the room as I continue to allow him to sift through my mind. "It's a very interesting thing, your fantasy. I saw me. In another life. A life without you." I feel the change take over him as he realizes what this means. Just his eyes move as they dart over to look at me. Ben's silent a moment as he contemplates his next move. "I wasn't very nice."

I don't know why, but I'm terrified of him. Or, maybe, I'm only terrified by how wet I get when he's angry. Nothing in this world scares me more than feeling powerless. But he doesn't make me feel powerless. Not really.

Ben's never looked at me quite like this before. "Get on the bed," he commands.

"I don't. . . this isn't—"

"Get on the bed, Cora."

I couldn't stall even if I wanted to. Magic makes me follow his every order, but it doesn't scare me as much as it should. I think he's right. I think I do like this.

"Of course I'm right," he says. Magic compels me to remove every piece of my clothing painstakingly slow, and then it compels me to remove his clothing. "Turn around." Ben waves a finger, and I'm suddenly kneeling on the mattress, facing away from him. "Oh," he moans in my ear. "So that's what you want. Why have you left me guessing for so long—" A knee knocks against the inside of my thigh as he pushes it aside to spread my legs. "—when you could have just told me from the beginning?"

Both my arms slide up and wrap around his neck to keep me tethered to the earth. If this is the kind of arousal he feels when I'm Goddess of Death, I understand now why he's okay with the danger involved. I'm so turned on I would do anything he asked me to.

His voice is low in my ear. "Anything I asked for?"

"How did you—"

"No more secrets," he explains. "That's what you want more than anything."

"Yes," I finally admit and stop attempting to protect my thoughts.

"I have a nice view from here." One of his hands palms my breast as he sits behind me, positioning himself. When he feels just how wet I am, he raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Do I really have this much of an effect on you?" His question switches to a kind tone, so it sounds like he's pleasantly surprised at the news. "I like knowing you want me. I want you, too. So go on," he says against my neck, falling back in a dangerous hiss. "Ride me however you see fit. I won't move until you tell me to."

Ben's words catch me off guard, and I open my eyes to look at the glowing blue of his. But. . . you could just take it if you wanted to. You could overpower me. You could take a Goddess by force.

"You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?" His fingers lightly brush against my neck as he fingers a strand of hair close to my ear. "The only thing more powerful than conquering a Goddess, is knowing how to please one. Now," his voice lowers even more as his demand breathes hot in my ear, "ride me."

It's a relief to feel every taut muscle uncoil as I relax my body back against his chest and sink onto him.

His heartbeat is suddenly in my neck, his breath in my throat, his thoughts in my own mind as he gives some of my magic back. Everything okay?

Yeah, sorry. Freaked out for just a second.

Every ounce of magic shoots back into my body. Ben asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

I stare at him in disbelief, but it quickly morphs into lust. I can give him full control and he still won't hurt me. He has the power to make me do anything he wants, and instead he stopped as soon as I seemed actually scared.

Without bothering to explain he didn't do anything wrong, I give him all of my magic back and wink. I feel powerful, even as he forces me back into the same position and orders me to sink back onto him. After a series of moans I can no longer keep control of, my steady rhythm shifts and changes, and suddenly he's moving hard against me.

Reaching up slowing with one hand, he takes a fistful of my hair and yanks.

Playfully. Not too hard. Because it wouldn't feel as good if he actually wanted to hurt me. I just want to be reminded that he could hurt me. If he really wanted to. Which he doesn't.

I bring a hand up to cover my mouth, but Ben pulls it away with magic and snarls, "No."

"But someone will hear."

"I want them to hear," he huffs against my ear. "I want all of them to hear. I need them to understand that all their prayers and all their parties don't amount to a damn thing. Because you're mine." I'm close and he knows it. "Look at me, beautiful," he rasps, and the blue of his eyes have never shone so bright. "Keep looking at me."

It's 2am, and I hear them fighting. They're always fighting, but lately it's been bad. Every night it's gotten worse since my grandmother died. I can hear him hitting her. I've seen him do it. Face. Arms. Stomach. Sometimes he's not even really aiming.

It's only a matter of time before he starts feeling comfortable hitting me, or Cassandra, or Capri, or Casper. It's only a matter of time before he starts hurting us in other ways, too.

No.

Tonight is the night. I can feel it. Tonight is the night I rid the world of filth, starting with my father. I plant a kiss on each one of my siblings foreheads, and then I slide out of bed in the windowless pitch-black bedroom I share with them, griping my murder weapon tight. Another thing I lied to Ben about. I didn't take this knife from the kitchen. I sleep with knives under my pillow, just in case.

As soon as I head towards the door, my siblings dutifully trailing behind me like ducklings, something appears in the corner of the room like mist in the darkness. All the hairs on my arms stand on end, and I stop breathing in the hopes it hasn't noticed me. Cold air chills my face and takes my breath away as a vaguely human shadow glides across the floor from out of thin air, stopping close to appraise me. I watch, paralyzed, as two blue beacons in the night dart down to the knife in my hand.

A disembodied voice gives me commands in a soft hiss.

Go back to bed. Let me do it for you.

I'm not afraid of this thing, but I'm also terrified of this thing, so I give the monster my knife and guide my siblings back to bed so I can comfort them.

"Hey," I yell out at the last minute, and the monster stops with one endless void of a hand resting on the door handle. I wait until it's turned to fix me with its pinpricks of blue light before saying, "I don't care what you do to him, just make sure it hurts."

With pleasure.

The monster disappears out the door with inhuman speed.

All three of my siblings sob into my pajamas, but my fear disappears completely the second my mother's cry for help turns into my father's cry for help. Dad finally knows what it's like to scream helplessly into the void, but after a while the yelling dies down and I worry Ben's already killed him. There's a crash, the sound of glass breaking, a loud thud against one of the walls, and then I hear the clang of the garbage disposal turning on, and my father's cries of pain echo through the house once again, until suddenly it's silent for good.

Ben slips back into the room, each invisible step sticky with blood, his blue eyes shining crisp and bright in the otherwise pitch blackness. He walks over to the bed, where I sit consoling my poor little siblings who can't handle any of this. They cling to me for protection, but there's no need to be afraid of him. This monster is friendly.

What little reservation was left melts away, until I'm not afraid of him at all.

From within the darkness under his piercing eyes, a smile forms. You don't have to worry about him anymore.

My life has been nothing but one, long, continuous scream, but now that scream is free of fear and anger and pain. I trust him not to hurt me just as much as he trusts me not to hurt him. As the two of us rock furiously in tandem like wild animals, Goddess of War opens her mouth to let out a scream of pure pleasure.

After we've shifted into a more comfortable position, Ben runs his hand over my hair to try and detangle any knots. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for not hurting me," I respond.

"I would never hurt you."

"Even if I asked you to?"

"Not even then." His answer surprises me until he adds, "I dug deep into your fantasies, and you don't want anyone to hurt you."

I've never told another living soul a lot of these secrets before. Ben is the person who knows the most about me, good, bad, embarrassing, ugly. All of it. He's the first person to have seen all of me and not go running away in fear, or anger, or disgust.

"Besides," he says in a much more humorous tone, "that's my kink. Stop trying to copy me. See? Told you," he says with a smile that makes me feel important. "I prefer to make you laugh."

I thought Ben had fallen asleep hours ago, so it's a surprise to hear him say, "Cora, I know you're awake. Are you alright?"

No. I'm not alright. I'm paranoid. I haven't been this paranoid since I was a child.

"Hey," he reassures in his most calming tone. "There's no shame in being afraid of the dark."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," I hiss. I just want to make sure I keep an eye on your bedroom door to make sure no monsters break in.

"Then turn around."

I roll over in a single second, facing him with eyes already misting with fear. "See?"

Ben reaches out and cradles the side of my face. "Cora, nothing is going to sneak up behind you."

He hasn't even fully finished his statement before I interrupt with, "But what if something does sneak up behind me?"

Now Ben looks playfully annoyed. "Please," he says, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You honestly think I'm going to let something get to you before I can kill it? Have you so little faith in my abilities to protect you?" He looks so funny when he tries to look sad. "You're not the only one who sleeps with weapons."

"You sleep with a knife under your pillow, too?"

Ben reaches up and behind himself, digging around in the space between the headboard and his pillow, before pulling out a handgun.

I start laughing and laughing and laughing and the paranoia fades as the fear clears out, until I can think again.

I can think again.

"Welcome back." Even in the darkness, I can see his smile. "If you want to sleep, then sleep. I promise I won't let anything hurt you."

I burrow into his side, facing away from the door, my eyes already flickering shut. The world is a frightening place full of villains and monsters, but for now I relax against the comforting presence of my husband, and I sleep.

Not being depressed is an amazing thing. I can appreciate food again, and smell, and sound, and color. I close my eyes and inhale the sweet scent of flowers dangling from the ceiling inside the Hall of Freyja, and smile, knowing I made the right decision by coming here.

Ben sits on the nearest step next to my throne. Men are not allowed in the Hall of Freyja, but I made a case for him since he's technically my husband and it's his birthday month too. I stressed how I wanted to keep the peace and was able to come to an agreement with the women of Hydra. Ben is allowed to sit next to me at the festival inside the Hall of Freyja, but he's not allowed to see anything that happens.

"I think I like having you blindfolded." Leaning forward in my throne, I whisper, "Did you know there are naked statues of me on either side of you?"

"When this is all over," he whispers back, so the rowdy crowd of women below cannot hear, "you better be naked."

I laugh loudly, but it's drowned out by the music and merriment happening down on the ground level. Nobody under the age of eighteen is allowed to attend, so it's no surprise the night is full of song and dance and food and wine and more than a few women end up naked by night's end.

Just when I start to get sleepy, a voice rings out from the crowd.

"How long are we going to pretend that our great and glorious Goddess isn't a complete and utter hypocrite?"

Great. Just what I wanted to deal with at the end of such a nice night. Charlotte's' mother.

Martha glares up at me, no doubt still seething from what happened at Charlotte's wedding. All night I've caught her shooting me looks, but it seems like playing it safe by waiting until everyone is drunk and slower to anger. "Lady Cora, I think it's high time you know the truth. Nobody else is brave enough to tell you!"

Gail notices the yelling and tries to step in to make peacekeeper. "Martha, what are you doing?"

Martha ignores her and screams, "Your marriage to Ben is illegal!"

As the hall quiets down to better hear the yelling, Gail stands, drunk, wide-eyed, and terrified. "You forget your place, you miserable old bitch."

Unbothered by Gail's incredible drunken surge of magic, Charlotte's mother simply smirks at me and says, "Your marriage to Ben isn't a sham because he tricked you or lied to you or any of the other excuses I'm sure Gail's planted into your head. No," she proclaims loudly into the high-ceilings, her words dripping with malice, "your marriage to Ben is a sham because you're already married." Martha looks absolutely insane as she smiles up at me and points at Gail. "To my dear Dharma associate, Abigail Alexopoulou!"