Page 117 of The Gods Forbid

“Move over,” I said, my voice coming out gruff. Persy’s eyebrows snapped together in confusion, her chin tilting up towards me. She looked like she was begging me for a kiss, something I was sure she didn’t recognize.

Forcing the urge to grab her face and kiss the living daylights out of her away, I sat down next to her, my thigh pressing heavy into hers.

Fucking fuck, if anyone knew how strong my self-control was, my sins would be repented for ten times over.

“What are you doing?” Persy said, looking up at me with wide eyes.

I couldn’t answer her and admit that I’d intruded, or for her to ask me to leave. I needed to steal these moments for as long as I possibly could. “You were perfect, love.” It was all I could say, lest she figure out how thoroughly she’d wrecked me.

Persy sucked in a breath, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. “What are you doing?” she repeated.

Trying not to lose my fucking mind. “Do you know Odysseus’ Return?”

Persy nodded slowly, her eyes bouncing over every inch of my face.

Odysseus’Return was a duet—a piece meant to represent Odysseus’ long journey back from the War. His part was dark and heavy, capturing the trials and pain that came with crawling your way back to your home over twenty grueling years of sea travel. Penelope, his wife’s, part was more mellow—sadder. It represented her longing and her sorrow as she watched the horizon day and night, waiting for her husband to return to her.

It was beautiful and haunting and painful and normally made me want to fucking destroy something. I couldn’t think of it without thinking of the little sister I’d lost, since she shared a name with Odysseus’ wife.

But now … now all I wanted was to see Persy’s fingers moving over the white and black keys, communicating Penelope’s heartache. A sick, twisted part of me hoped she related to it, that she knew what it was like to long for someone.

It would only be half of what was weighing on my heart.

“You’re supposed to start,” I pressed softly. The first bit was Penelope’s anguished cry for her husband to return to her.

Persy looked dazed for a second, but I knew she heard me. I just waited for her to come to and begin. After a blissful moment where I had an excuse to stare at her, her lashes blinked rapidly and she turned back towards the piano.

Her hands settled over the keys, resting on notes in a higher octave. And at the first press of her finger on the white ivory, I almost passed out.

That was the only reaction when all the blood rushed right out of my head, pumping into my hands and low in my stomach. Or maybe it was trying to crawl out of my skin to get closer to her, my very life source reaching out for her.

Persy moved carefully through the first few seconds of the song, the notes communicating heartbreak and sorrow. I was so focused on the movement of her fingers that I almost missed the cue for my part.

My hands found the right notes at the last minute, instinct and muscle memory powering the movement. The lower notes gave the song body and weight, creating a promise that Odysseus would weather any trial, so long as it brought him closer to home, to his wife.

As we played, moving quickly through the song, our forearms brushed occasionally, kicking the heat up in the room by a degree each time. We barreled through the middle before I could blink, climbing the hill of the climax of the song—the moment Odysseus’ ship breaks through the morning fog and comes into view of his homeland.

My heart was slamming against my ribs, damn near about to beat out of my chest.

The only other sound in the room was our breathing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Persy’s chest moving quicker, her posture falling from the perfect hold it had in the first song she played, like her breaths were stealing her strength.

Persy’s movements sped up, her part of the music growing chaotic and rushed to capture the relief Penelope felt when she saw the mast of her husband’s ship, to embody the way she ran through the town to the shoreline to wait for Odysseus.

The two parts synced up at the end, just two octaves apart, the melody melding together, capturing the moment Odysseus finally lifts Penelope into his arms—home at last.

And with two more soft notes from Persy’s end of the piano, the song was done.

My ears were ringing, my head dizzy, but I could still hear Persy’s ragged breaths. Her shoulders were sagged forward, her chest heaving with the force of it. Her hands were curled over the ivory, attempting to grab hold of it for support.

Unable to stop myself, I reached over and lifted one of her hands. A violent shiver wracked her body, but she didn’t pull away. I silently thanked every god in existence for this one piece of her they let me have.

I placed her hand between both of my own, framing her fingers and palm. Her skin was as soft as I could have guessed. On instinct, I started tracing each bone in her hand with my thumb, silently cataloging each and every one. I knew the name of every tendon and muscle underneath her skin, but that wasn’t even an ounce of everything I wanted to discover about her.

“Sebastian…” she said, my name more of a breath than anything.

Fuck.

“Please,” I croaked, not above begging her for a moment more to touch her, or a moment for her to pretend like I hadn’t just crossed a line. “Just one more second. This is my favor.” The favor I’d won in Delphi. I’d give it up for a second more of this.