Chapter 8
Grace hadn’t been wrong about the closeness easing the pain we’d apparently both been experiencing. Sunlight was filtering through her bedroom window, and I had no idea what time it was but at least I’d actually got a few hours sleep in the end and no longer felt like I was dying.
That was a bonus.
Plus, I’d tasted her sweet, eager mouth. That was more than a bonus.
Grace was still asleep in my arms, her cheek resting on my chest, hair pulled up messily on top of her head, one leg flung over mine, which meant the silky skin of her thigh was resting uncomfortably close to my dick.
I felt like I’d popped fifteen boner pills, that’s how fucking hard I was.
The pain in my body had eased, but it had all migrated south instead.
If the pain was the result of her goddess pushing us together, then I never wanted to hear about the Great Mother being the good goddess ever again.
The kind one. The one who cared about her creations, unlike the nasty old Goddess of Night.
Fuck that for a joke. My goddess valued free will over almost everything.
I contemplated trying to extricate myself from Grace’s grip—I was worried about how she would feel about this level of closeness when she woke up—but her bed wasn’t big enough for me to go anywhere, anyway.
She had a small bed in a small room, with layers of cream-colored bedding tangled everywhere now we’d both mostly kicked them off.
There was a shelf directly above our heads with greenery dangling off it, and a large pot growing what looked like a small tree next to the window.
The amount of plant life in this tiny apartment had made me question my theory that agathos didn’t care about nature, though they definitely didn’t have the same aversion to eating meat that daimons had.
Then again, Grace had some weird misconceptions about my kind, so my thought process was probably equally as wrong.
Grace stirred and my hand on her hip tightened reflexively, not wanting her to go anywhere.
The one daimonic trait I knew I had in spades was selfishness.
We didn’t share. So while I respected Grace’s free will, I fucking hated sharing her time.
Every second we’d been apart yesterday I spent wondering what she was doing and if she was okay, and if she obsessed about me as much as I obsessed about her.
Goddess, why was she even here? Grace wasn’t meant for a dreary down-and-out town like Milton. She should be somewhere that didn’t dull her shine.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Grace breathed, tipping her head back and blinking sleepily at me.
I didn’t think I’d ever get used to her eyes.
They didn’t have the red in them that mine had—the mark of the devil that was reflected back at me in the mirror each day.
Grace’s were a mixture of pale purple, aqua and gold, swirling and blending together in a way that no artist could replicate.
They were the color of the cosmos, and staring into them made me feel the same way as looking at a clear night sky did. Small. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
“How are you feeling?” I rasped, holding my breath as Grace suddenly pulled her leg back, realizing how close we were. Please don’t notice my boner.
“Um…”
A flush spread across Grace’s cheeks as she glanced away nervously, and I suppressed my chuckle at how fucking adorable she looked. Based on her reaction, I assumed Grace was experiencing a similar ache to me, but either couldn’t or didn’t want to articulate that.
It must be a pain in the ass not to be able to lie.
“I don’t know what to make of any of this,” Grace sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She made no move to roll away from me, which I was grateful for. “It feels so much like you are my soul bond, but if you are…I guess it’s not how I thought any of this would go,” she laughed quietly.
I hummed under my breath, staring at the top of her head, noticing how some strands of hair were more reddish than others in this light. “You thought you would have felt called to some nice, clean cut agathos boy by now with a 9-5 job and health insurance, and that would be it?”
“I mean, yes,” Grace sputtered, ducking her head slightly. “But a more romantic version of that.”
“Fair enough. Health insurance is really more of a second date conversation.”
She nudged me with her shoulder, surprising us both with the affectionate gesture, and I guided her face back up so I could see her.
“None of this should shock me,” Grace sighed. “I’ve never quite fit in with my community. Not even with my family.”
“Now, that , I can relate to,” I muttered.
Grace hummed, and I stayed quiet, giving her a chance to find her words. I got the impression she was used to filtering herself, which is why she often paused before speaking, but I couldn’t tell if that was an agathos thing or a Grace thing.
I guessed that if I couldn’t lie, I’d probably have to spend more time thinking about what came out of my mouth too.
“Do you think you’re a good daimon?” she settled on eventually, her expression impossible to read.
“Good as in a good person? No. Good at being a daimon, also no. Why?”
“I’ve never thought I was a good agathos. I have thoughts that I don’t think other agathos have…” Grace trailed off, chewing her lip nervously.
“What kind of thoughts?” I asked curiously. I didn’t understand the agathos mentality. Was the mind really a place that needed policing? It seemed sort of totalitarian.
“Just things I shouldn’t think. Mean things when I’m angry. Curiosity about things I have no right to be curious about. I think of it as my darkness or my monster. It lives inside me, making me reckless.”
I felt Grace’s guilt, which took me by surprise. Guilt was a feeling I had a lot of personal experience with, but wasn’t used to seeing on someone else, since other daimons didn’t seem to experience it.
I really hoped Grace wasn’t feeling guilty for sometimes having angry or curious thoughts, because that was insanely fucked up.
“Listen to me,” I commanded, cupping her jaw and running my thumb over her cheek. “Just because you feel something other than unadulterated joy sometimes doesn’t mean it’s bad, or that you’re bad. You have nothing to feel guilty about, Grace.”
Her hand covered mine, keeping my palm pressed to her jaw, and her eyes wide like she was marveling at the feel of my skin on hers.
There was a tension between us as we both forced our bodies to stay still, to not give in to the need between us.
It was more than just being the horniest I’d ever been in my fucking life.
It was like…like I could feel what Grace needed, and every atom in my body was urging me to provide her with it.
What had been a faint whisper of emotion yesterday was a lot stronger and more urgent today.
Did that work both ways? Was there an on-off switch?
If this was the work of the Good Goddess, apparently she didn’t give a fuck about privacy either.
Grace’s fingers trailed lightly over my chest, tracing my pecs through my t-shirt like she was memorizing them. My breath caught in my throat at the gentle brush of her warm hand, the soft exploratory way she moved.
Her nail skated over my right nipple and Grace snatched her hand back with a surprised gasp as a jolt of pleasure ran through me.
I almost groaned at how good it felt even through the fabric—Grace’s touch was like nothing I’d ever experienced—but the alarmed look on her face kept my appreciative noises in check.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling her other hand back from where it rested over mine and curling them both into fists, clutching them close to her body like she didn’t trust her own limbs. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing…Touching your…”
“Never touched a man’s nipples before, Gracie?” I teased, exhaling slowly to try to relieve some of the sexual tension that was holding me hostage.
“I’ve barely touched my own nipples,” she replied instantly, eyes wide.
Damn it . Thinking about Grace’s nipples was not helping calm myself down. I felt the lust that wasn’t mine like an echo of my own feelings. We were stoking each other’s needs, driving each other higher, to the point of a whole new kind of pain. It wasn’t sustainable to exist like this.
“We both need an orgasm,” I gritted out. “Have you ever touched anywhere else on your body?” I asked tentatively, already feeling like I knew the answer.
“I’ve never…” Grace trailed off, giving me a pleading look. “We don’t feel any kind of desire until we meet our soul bonds. It’s meant to help us…save those things.”
For fuck’s sake. I was too horny to properly express the righteous anger that coursed through me at her words. Not at Grace, never at Grace, but at her goddess. What kind of fucked up game was she playing? They should have been calling her The Puppet Master, not the Great Mother.
“I have a lot of thoughts about that, but let’s concentrate on getting you off right now. Neither of us are going to last the day like this,” I said, attempting to keep my voice calm.
“Will you help me?”
There was so much vulnerability in her eyes, in her tone, that I wouldn’t have been able to say no even if I tried. And a part of me did want to say no, to protest that this rampant sexual desire was being pushed on us by some unseen force who was playing with our lives.
“Clothes on, okay?” I told her solemnly. It was for both of our benefits that this didn’t go too far until our heads were clearer. “Nothing further happens until we’re completely ready for it.”
I hadn’t dry humped anyone since I was a teenager, but it seemed like the best way to respectfully eliminate the suffocating need between us. Right? Surely, that would be more comfortable for Grace than me directing her how to touch herself. Shit, I was probably going to come in my boxers.