It made me want to stick my fingers in his perfectly tousled, gelled hair and mess it up, just to see his cheeks heat with red. The full, dark lashes slanting down over his eyes were so full they’d make any woman envious. And while his lips were thin, a sign he was caught in deep thought, I still remembered them turning pliant and soft under my mouth.
Standing this close, the scent of sandalwood and his skin filled my senses, and I was transported back to his bedroom. Back to when I breathed him in while tracing my tongue alonghis throat, as his hand encircled my hard length, as my every dream and desire played out in real time.
Calm down, cowboy,I sternly reminded myself. These tight pants won’t cover up a stiffy all that well.
The black dog at Timothy’s side pushed its head under his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice the nudge.
When did Mr. Control Freak himself get a cute pooch?
“You should see your face,” I said with the satisfaction of being able to surprise a god.
“Holy shit, Aaron,” Miranda said, also dumbfounded with shock.
I ran my fingers through my hair, deliberately relaxing my shoulders, pretending to play it cool.
But how could I really be chill about this?
Not while the god I fell head over heels with years ago stood a couple feet from me, looking perfectly coiffed, but with an expression of someone who’d slapped him across the face with a dead fish.
Miranda slammed into me in a full-body hug. I stiffened on instinct, because the Miranda I remembered barely tolerated pats on the back. Before I got my arms to cooperate, she pulled away and drove a fist into my shoulder. Hard.
“Ow,” I said for effect because it felt more like the impact of a gnat. My strength was beyond anything I’d imagined it could be now.
“You're back in town and you don’t text me, you jackass?” Miranda tilted her chin up with barely veiled accusation.
A smile played at my lips, but it fell short. My focus shifted without permission, pulled past Miranda to the presence looming behind her.
Timothy’s expression had slowly but surely morphed from utter surprise to shock.
A subtle but important difference. One can only be short-lived, while the other can far outlast the first reaction.
He knew what I was. Of course, he would.
Gods and Sekhors, or what was more modernly called vampires, used to bond in ancient times. Or rather, Sekhors were enslaved by the gods.
I did my best not to shy away, not to cringe in guilt or shame. I had nothing to be guilty about. I didn’t owe him anything.
Even so, an ache I’d carried at the center of my chest spread and intensified under his scrutiny.
“I’ve been...busy,” I said to Miranda by way of explanation.
“And what the hell is wrong with you? Doing a crazy stunt like that? Have you completely lost your surfer boy mind? You could have died.”
“No, he couldn’t.”
The answer came from Timothy. His words cold and stiff despite his innately charming British accent.
My shoulders tightened at the tone, though I tried not to let it show. The ache in my chest twisted like a knife, plunging deeper into me. The pressure of Timothy’s piercing gaze made it hard to focus on anything else. The air felt thick between us, stretching each second as I grappled with the unspoken truth that he knew what I was now. A surge of anxiety washed over me, leaving me acutely aware of my own unnaturalness in this moment, and I struggled to maintain my cool under his scrutiny.
“What are you talking about?” Miranda scoffed. “You of all people should tell him not to do stupid, dangerous shit.”
Timothy’s jaw flexed ever so slightly.
He might as well have punched me in the gut.
Miranda’s gaze volleyed between us, her brows screwed up with confusion. “What am I missing?”
“Shall you tell her, or would you like me to?”
