“You can’t just do this to people!” Charles was struggling against… Well, against everything, but at the moment, the cuffs holding his wrists to his ankles, the collar chained to the wall behind him, and the general concept of slavery, not to mention the woman standing in front of him, looking far too amused and far too obnoxiously hot.
“As a matter of fact, we can.” Svetlana sat down in a comfortable chair that seemed to be placed in this otherwise-bare room for the sole purpose of gloating at him.
“This is bullshit. Just because you have a couple tricks…” He’d seen their “tricks” already, and if he weren’t so pissed, he’d have to admit they were impressive… “doesn’t give you control over other people’s lives. You guys have some sort of god complex or something.”
The woman laughed. “As a matter of fact…”
“Oh, hells no, don’t tell me you people think you’re gods or some such fucked up shit.”
She smirked at him. “Don’t say it like that to anyone else around here. But, as a matter of fact, my people – grey eyes, red hair, long names? – call themselves the Tuatha Dé Danann. The Children of Danu. So yes, we do think we’re gods, or descended from them.”
“Seriously?” He stopped struggling against the chains and looked at her in shock.
“Seriously. The story goes, in the days before history, Danu kissed her Consort…”
“It started with a kiss, at least.” She could not be fazed by lewd comments. He’d already tried that anyway. “And from she and her Consort came the people of Eire, our people.”
“So you seriously believe you’re gods?”
“Me? I believe I have power, wealth, and a royal title. That suits me better than godhead.” She leaned forward in her chair and tapped his shoulder. “And I have you, which is a pleasant perk.”
He studied the crazy woman in front of him, and tugged ruefully once again at his chains. “Gods.”
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