Athanasius
She sleeps.
At last.
The quiet of it wraps around my senses like a balm—one I dare not admit I crave. Her breath, gentle and measured, stirs the air between us. I lie with my back to her, a coward's position, some might say. But I am no coward. I amold.Older than the suns that crown the cosmos. I have seen empires bloom and burn. I have laid waste to gods and whispered life into stars. And yet—here I am, undone by the memory of a kiss.
Herkiss.
Ione, my tether. My avatar. My mortal coil wrapped in fire and bone and fragility. I can be poetic and romantic just like her books, I bet she doesn't know that! Last night, her lips touched mine, and itmeantsomething. That is the crux of it. Itmeantsomething. Not the perfunctory brushing of mouths that preludes desire—no, not that. It was longing. It was want meeting want, need answering need.
I could have had her. The way my cocks brushed against her slit. She was hot, wet, and wanting. She had me moaning into her mouth. Why didn't I pull her panties to the side, and plunge into her hot depths? She would have ridden me, her legs are strong. I would have laid on the couch and watched in awe as she bounced up and down, pleasuring herself.
I know why.
It was dangerous.
The last time I kissed a mortal and felt the world shift, I bled for it. Not in the flesh, no—I am not so easily marred—but in the soul, where it festers deeper. Maybe I read her wrong. She had wanted me, once. Just as Ione wants me now. And when she had taken what she needed, she lied. As they all do. Humans lie. It's in the marrow of their making. They take. They want. And when the want is sated, they wither away, leaving behind ruin. I will not fall again. I will not fall prey to a feeling, an emotion, I am a primordial!
I should know better.
Idoknow better.
And still... still... guilt coils in my chest like a serpent, because Ione is not like the others. She is not her. She has not lied. Not once. And the scent of her lingers—vanilla and sandalwood, soft and warm, like something out of a dream I was never allowed to keep. Dreams…a mix of mine and Destiny's realm. If I dream of her tonight, Destiny will see her and I wonder what my sibling will say.
Ione had smiled last night. Smiled at another man, laughed as they danced. And something in me, old and sharp and ugly,burned. Jealousy. I had not tasted this before, but I knew its form, and I hated the way it fed on me. But when we returned home—when she reached forme—when she kissedme... all else fell away.
She had pulled me closer. Bold, unafraid, as if she knew I would never harm her. As if shetrustedme. Foolish woman.
She tasted of wine and warmth, of something sacred. Shewantedme. Not forpower. Not for legend. Forme.
And I—gods, I cannot have her. I cannot keep her. Can't I?
If not for the spell, if not for the cursed bond the mages crafted, I would have sent her away. I would have walked every realm and waited for time to claim her body and her name, until memory smoothed her face into myth. I would haveforgotten.
I'm a liar. No, I wouldn't have. I would race through the cosmos, picking every piece of stardust connected to her just to form her again. See? Better than her novel. But I cannot.
I turn onto my back, eyes fixed on the shadowed ceiling. Her breath continues—steady, present.Alive.Sheexistsin this moment with me. That knowledge, that fragile fact, is unbearable and glorious. I hate this feeling. So close and yet so far away, and who the hell is she to do this to me? She knows who and what I am! How dare she!
I turn toward her, unable to resist the pull.
Her chest rises and falls, a rhythm older than language. Her eyelids flutter, deep in dream. What does she see? Who does she hold in that realm of visions?Is it me?
I reach out, my fingers hovering over a visage I did not know before and would have never thought about, now, I cannot be without. A touch so light it could be mistaken for air. My fingers find her lips, soft and familiar. The shape of them has etched itself into the temple of my mind. I will never forget. Not even if I wished to.
I trace her neck, her collarbone—such delicate architecture, carved in mortal grace. I ache to feel her again, to lose myself in her heat. But Ican’t. The wound inside me is too deep. The pain, too old.
So instead, I let my hand fall to hers. I fold my fingers around her palm, grounding myself in this fleeting truth—she is here.
I close my eyes.
Perhaps sleep will take me. Perhaps in dream I shall wander a place where time does not bind us, where betrayal never found me, and where she can be mine, not by spell, not by fate...
…but by choice.
Chapter fourteen
He's So Sassy
