Page 12 of The Gods Forbid

“Hello,” I greeted, turning the corner to his cell. I would be glad to see it go.

Sebastian was already standing, casually leaning against the far wall. When he saw me carrying food, he walked over to the door, waiting for me. For the past two days, I’d brought his breakfast and dinner myself, choosing to eat with him and trying to build at least somewhat of a comfortable rapport between us.

I’d focused the conversation on light topics, which had the unfortunate result of me rambling in front of him when he refused to answer questions about himself and filling the silence with information about me I didn’t normally give up so easily.

Every single time we got anywhere close to personal information about him or something that reminded us both why he was here, he’d shut down, resorting to cruel words and a sharp tone that he clearly hoped would made me run from the cell like my hair was on fire.

I hated running. It made my ankles hurt. So I stood my ground.

“Good evening, Persephone,” Sebastian said, his hand already reaching through the bars and towards the trays resting on my arms. I passed them off to him, focusing on the action instead of my desire to correct him for using my full name.

I didn’t normally like when people used it. I wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother me as much when he did.

When he finally moved his eyes from their deep, intense stare on my face and he looked down at the food, his muscles locked up.

“I’m not even going to request you say thank you,” I said, speaking more to the top of his head, his eyes still down on the tray. “Just don’t say anything.”

For once, Sebastian listened to me. I’d asked Kostas to make a dessert he’d mentioned passively the day prior.

Well, actually getting that little bit of information out of him felt like climbing down into a pit thirty feet deep and using a brush to move around dirt, seeking a bone two inches wide.

He moved over to his bed silently, giving me the room to open up the cell door. I was in my head a little more than usual as I did it, and the quick puncture to my finger startled me more than normal.

I jerked back, pressing my thumb in between my lips to try to soothe some of the pain and get rid of the blood.

A choked sound stole my attention. My eyes flew to Sebastian, who was taking measured breaths through his nose.

“It hurts you to open the door,” he said, his voice hard. He was speaking like I’d managed to sky-rocket his anger in a matter of seconds.

I turned back to the lock, realizing I’d accidentally left the door fully open. “The lock mechanism requires a dose of blood,” I explained. I turned back, closing the door but leaving it unlocked.

This would be a test to see what he would do. The wards protecting Prometheus prevented him from leaving—with a few exceptions.

Sebastian didn’t even seem to notice what I’d done when I faced him again. His stare was narrowed in on my hand. “That’s not what I asked.”

I folded my hands together in front of me. His eyes followed, now centered on my lower stomach. It was so potent, it felt almost like a physical touch. Like I would imagine his hand felt softly sweeping over the space below my belly button. “You didn’t ask much of anything, actually.”

Sebastian’s eyes dragged slowly up my body, taking his sweet time. See, this is why I didn’t play his game. It gave him leave to turn on the charm. “Does it hurt you to open the door?”

I paused, repeating the words in my head to make sure I understood his tone correctly. He’d spoken quite harshly but the question was objectively emotionless.

“A little,” I admitted. It wasn’t bad, but I definitely noticed it.

Sebastian looked downright offended at my answer. It was the truth. I wasn’t sure what else he was looking for. “Stand outside then.” His words were a rough command, punctuated by a sharp jerk of his chin towards the dark and dingy hallway outside.

I looked behind me, confused. When I turned back to him, his expression had somehow turned even darker. “You’d prefer to have our conversation separated by a row of bars? I’d have to sit on the ground to eat.”

I mean that just made no sense.

“I’d prefer not to be doing this at all,” Sebastian snapped back, so harsh I felt it like a lance against my skin. More painful than the lock. “But if you insist on piercing your skin as a prerequisite to that conversation, then yes, I’d prefer it separated.”

Oh. It took a second to click, but I thought I understood him now. “Is it the blood or the pain?”

Sebastian’s eyes blew wide, his brows slamming together. “Excuse me?”

“Which bothers you? The blood or the pain?” I asked, taking a step closer to him. I was almost in the middle of the room now, and Sebastian had taken a few steps back to the point that he was basically plastered against the wall. Almost like I scared him, but that couldn’t be right.

Sebastian breathed in deeply, tracking his eye down my shoulder, my arm, and down to the finger I’d pricked while he did it. There must have been something about his power that made his stare uniquely intense, because it felt eerily close to a physical embrace. “If I said the blood?”