But we also have him.
The five of us together, got each other.
Thayla
13
This is the first time since arriving in Godsden that I’ve actuallydressedlike a goddess.
Although the gold bracelet dangling from my left wrist pairs perfectly with the one-shoulder, silk, white gown I’m wearing, it feels more like a chain than an accessory.
My whole attire is jaw-droppingly stunning, yet I want to claw my skin, it itches so badly.
I feel like an impostor.
I have absolutely no problem with dresses. Well, functional ones, I suppose. The slightly larger, comfortable ones I can walk around the house in with no bra or underwear on.
Okay, so…nightgowns.
Anyways.
My discomfort in my outfit is making my nauseating nerves so much worse.
How am I supposed to throw a punch in this if need be?
Well, I guess like any other, but if that ends up being the case, this gown is one hundred percent ripping.
“Come in,” I call over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off my full-length mirror.
“Are you almost ready? We’ve got to…”
Creed’s words fade as I turn around and run my hands down my dress for the millionth time. The sight of him dressed in fine white and gold armor rather than the normal one we’d wear for battle or training halts my movements.
He looks divinely delicious.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” I ask after his silent examination goes on for another torturous second.
“Yes…I mean, you do—don’t—fuck.” He hangs his head and huffs. The corner of my lips tilts up.
His eyes meet mine and heat creeps through my cheeks.
“You look stunning, Thayla.”
I find myself as lost for words as he just was. It takes me a moment to tear my gaze from his and clear my throat, and my head.
“Thank you.”
He nods as he takes a step forward. “I have something that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”
“Who said I was uncomfortable?”
He raises a knowing brow, and I bite back my smirk.
I then have to fight back a groan that tries to break free when he drops to a knee in front of me.
There is something indescribably sexy about the God of Death kneeling before me.
Chill bumps chase his fingers as he slides a thin leather strap up my leg through the slit in my dress. It takes all the strength in me not to turn my hips toward his hands when he stops mid-thigh.
