“This is what happens when Grim leaves a scribe to do a ruler’s work,” someone near the dais said, not bothering to lower their voice.
I finally broke away from Seth’s neck, gasping as my eyes locked onto Timothy, who stood frozen. His face, usually composed, was marred by distress, the galaxies he conjured flickering as doubt seeped into the air.
No longer content to whisper, the gods returned to their own conversations. As if Timothy wasn’t there.
Several drifted toward Seth with the oily glide of predators recognizing a new alpha.
“So, Seth, how did you get a blood-bonded Sekhor? And where can I get one, or twenty?” The laugh that followed was disgusting.
“Oh, Seth, how about we revisit that idea of yours with fight rings under our casinos? We could pit the humans against each other. Bring back the days of gladiators. Wasn’t that a delicious time?”
A goddess with gold eyes tapped her nails on her glass. “Or we open a club that siphons life from patrons. Offer a lucky streak at the blackjack tables that slowly drains their years. They would line up for it.”
Laughter rippled through the cluster. Not quiet or subtle. The sound rolled across the ballroom.
Timothy stood in the center of it, the star system drooping at his fingertips. Every idea dropped by the gods was a direct violation of the order he had spent millennia maintaining. Every one of them was a line they were no longer afraid to cross.
The gods’ words echoed in my ears, each word a further chipping away of his authority. I could see the realization hit him—this was not the powerful display he’d intended.
“What are you saying?” The goddess Bianca entered the ring. Her beautiful features were creased with distress. “We must abide Thoth and the rules set for us to maintain peace and balance.”
A goddess in red waved her hand toward the dais. “If he cannot hold the room, he cannot hold the power Grim left him. Someone else should take the scales.”
The god with the shining eye pulled Bianca away though she looked reluctant to go.
Timothy’s shoulders slumped, and I understood then: Seth had won this little battle. He’d used me to do it.
The god of chaos had orchestrated my humiliation, and Timothy lost the faith of the gods that he could confidently rule.
Laughter rose, sharp and pointed, and the sound carved Timothy out of the room.
His authority cracked. The gods measured him, he failed, and now they were deciding what lines they could cross.
For the first time, I fully understood why Timothy kept his distance. Why he pushed me away. Why he feared what we could cost each other.
If he fell, mortals suffered.
If he faltered, gods like Seth would take over. I looked about me, surrounded by gods with terrible intentions and zero fucks left to give.
My insides caved in on themselves as I regretted ever coming back to Vegas.
11
TIMOTHY
Iwasn’t going to abandon my self-pity to answer the door for whoever knocked, but they persisted until I was forced to tear myself from the couch and face the intruder.
I winced at the harsh light from the hallway as it cut into my darkened suite with unapologetic violence. The Ink Spots played mournfully from the record player, adding to the absolutely pathetic visage I’m sure I made.
Aaron stood there, back in a regular tee shirt and shorts, his throat freed from that insidious collar. Even as I faced him at my lowest, I couldn’t help but feel the sharp pinch under my ribcage as I met his brilliant blue eyes, the hues of the Caribbean Sea.
Aaron’s gaze traveled from my bare feet up my legs, over my boxers and silk robe, past the deep lines beneath my bloodshot eyes and my distressed hair, before settling on the sweating tumbler in my hand. It still had a few swallows left of my Gin Rickey.
His mouth tightened at the same time the edges of his eyes did. In disapproval? In surprise? In pity?
My senses were swimming in too much gin to tell.
“May I come in?” he asked, carefully. As if I were potentially volatile, as if I might slam the door in his face.
