“That’s not true,” Nyx countered, leaning over as she reached for his glass. She divided the last of the tequila into two shots, sliding his across the counter before picking up her own. “You know that I own a bar. You know that I like tequila. You know that I don’t sleep around.”
But she knew that wasn’t what Ares meant. There weren’t many people who truly knew her, and she preferred it that way. Knowledge was a form of power – information could be used as a means of control – and Nyx refused to give anyone that sort of leverage. She offered nothing and expected nothing in return, perfectly content to make her own assumptions and let others do the same.
“Sometimes not knowing is better,” she said, running a fingertip along the rim of her glass. “Immortality can be dull.... few things remain a mystery. A little bit of intrigue can be a good thing.”