Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
THANATOS
Hermes disappeared before Thanatos could strangle him. He’d taken Iliana from the safe house without a word.
Fear of losing her stoked his rage. If Hermes thought this was a game, Thanatos would make it clear he wasn’t in the mood to play.
He kept his eyes on Iliana. Breathing. Counting the moments until his pulse slowed.
“Are you all right, Iliana?” Anubis asked, betraying no hint of the storm under the surface. He’d spent years struggling with his emotions, far more than Thanatos ever had.
She smiled at him. “I’m fine. Just…tired.” Her eyes moved to Hypnos before settling back on Anubis.
The message was obvious: she didn’t want to sleep.
Thanatos tensed as Hypnos hissed out a breath, turned, and stormed from the room. Thanatos didn’t stop him. Hypnos’ guilt wasn’t just about Hermes taking her. His brother had put her to sleep without consent. For her, sleep was now a death sentence, not peace.
He turned back toward Iliana.
Anubis was cradling her face as if she might break, and she covered his hand with her own. “I’m fine.”
Thanatos waited for the possessiveness—expected the ugly, territorial kind.
It didn’t come.
What hit instead was more complicated. Watching Anubis cradle her with reverence, he understood. Accepted it. He couldn’t blame Anubis for falling for her. His own feelings for Iliana ran more intensely than any past relationship, beyond what he’d expected from this arrangement.
Anubis was falling for her, too.
He let his gaze sweep over her. She was tired, yes, but calm. Her shoulders were relaxed, her forehead no longer creased with stress. Thanatos hadn’t realized just how close to the edge she’d been before Hermes whisked her away.
The knowledge cooled his anger. She’d needed an escape. Hermes had recognized it and taken her away. Thanatos had caused her distress. Anubis comforted her when she returned. Shame began to replace his earlier fury toward the messenger god.
Iliana pulled away from Anubis and looked over at Thanatos. “I’m going to take a shower. Then sleep. Can we talk about this in the morning?”
Neither god answered fast enough. She huffed, turned, and disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Thanatos dragged a hand down his face. “Shit.”
Anubis’ glare was hard. “You need to fix this.”
“I know.”
“She does not understand why you lost control. She might wait until morning.” Anubis paused, eyeing the bathroom door. “Do not let her sleep with doubts,” he said before leaving.
Thanatos stood alone with the sound of running water and the burden of memory.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Anubis and Hypnos knew what had triggered him. Iliana didn’t. Even if he explained, would she understand?
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, rehearsing the words he couldn’t afford to botch.
Iliana emerged. Her damp hair fell in loose waves, and the towel clinging to her curves did nothing for his composure.
She was stunning.
Her eyes widened when she saw him, but she didn’t ask him to leave. Instead, she calmly moved to the dresser and started pulling out clothes.
He forced himself to look away.
“What do you want, Thanatos?”
“I wanted to talk about earlier.” He kept his gaze on the wall, giving her privacy.
Iliana sighed. “I don’t understand why you hit Anubis,” she said, lowering herself onto the bed. “Was it because he kissed me?”
“No.” The answer was instantaneous. He turned to her, gently brushing his fingers over the bruises on her arm.
She watched him, waiting for an explanation.
“When I saw these…I lost control.” The sight rattled him, each bruise a sign of his failure.
She placed her hand over his, the touch keeping him from losing himself in anger once more. “I bruise easily. Ani didn’t hurt me. I’m going to keep training, and this will most likely happen again. You can’t lose it every time I get a blemish.”
He knew that. Logically, he knew that. But logic had nothing to do with the terror that had seized him when he saw the bruises on her delicate skin.
“There’s something I need to tell you. Why I reacted as I did.” He braced for the painful memories, for how he’d failed the last human he cared for.
“A few hundred years ago, I befriended a human woman, Eleni.” The name was still hard to say. “She loved me, but I did not return her feelings; not in the way she’d wanted.”
Iliana’s fingers squeezed his. “Than, you don’t have to…”
“I do.” He met her eyes. “I tried to be gentle, but she left upset. I did not see her again for two years.”
“What happened after two years?” Her question was soft. Careful. As if she sensed the significance of what was coming.
“I went to check on her.” His shoulders tensed at the memory. “I stayed invisible, not wanting to intrude, but when I found her…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“She had bruises,” Iliana said quietly. “Someone was hurting her?”
Nodding, he continued. “All over. Some were recent, but others were old enough that I knew…I knew it had been happening for a while.”
He recalled the room, the witness to Eleni’s suffering. A cracked lyre lay deserted in one corner, the strings broken. She’d once played beautifully. The dust on it showed she’d found no peace or joy in it for a long time.
Iliana’s fingers clasped around his. The pressure of her hold helped steady him, keeping him from losing himself more to his past.
“In the next room, her husband sat there with this…this smirk.” Even centuries later, the image made his blood boil. “He enjoyed her cries.”
“What did you do?” she asked, softly.
“Nothing. Not at first,” he admitted. “I told myself interference would make things worse. So I left.”
“But you went back.”
“Yes. Many times.” His eyes closed. “Watching her suffer—because I was too much of a coward to act.”
“You weren’t a coward—”
“I was,” he stated with finality, hoping she’d understand. “Until I finally broke. I went to Nemesis and begged her to make things right.”
“Nemesis. The goddess of revenge?”
“Justice,” he said, though the distinction felt meaningless now. “I asked her to help Eleni.”
“Did she?” Her hope nearly broke him.
“Yes. In her own way.” He pushed through the constriction in his throat, needing to say it. “She gave Eleni strength and rage to match his viciousness. Eleni killed him. And when she realized what she had done, what she had become…”
Understanding and horror crossed her face. “She killed herself,” she said, sorrow in her words.
He nodded, unable to speak past the memory of finding his friend dead.
Iliana’s breath faltered. “Than…”
“I carry that with me.” He brushed his thumb over the bruises. “I was not there to protect her when it mattered. When I finally acted, it was too late.” He looked at Iliana and spoke quietly. “That’s why I never let myself get close to another human until…”
She finished his thought, soft but certain. “Until me.”
He nodded, taking her hand. He knew he had to let her continue to train with Anubis, even at the risk of getting hurt. The thought of her being in pain made him clench his teeth.
Of course she’d get hurt training. She was human.
“It might happen again, but I will save that anger for a target that deserves it. Not the ones I care about.” He would honestly try. He didn’t want to risk losing her over anger and pain.
She took a moment before squeezing his hand. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”
He remained silent.
“You told me that every being makes his or her own choices,” she reminded him.
“You didn’t force her to kill him. And who says she wouldn’t have killed him anyway?
You can’t rewrite her choices to punish yourself.
If she’d moved on with her life, happy and carefree, would you have taken credit for that as well? ”
He stared at her.
“You said you didn’t interfere. But in the end, you did,” Iliana said. “You tried to help her. You can’t carry this burden forever.”
Thanatos closed his eyes. Hypnos and Anubis had told him the same thing, but coming from Iliana, it meant more somehow. The pain and guilt weren’t gone, but the tightness in his chest loosened somewhat.
He recognized now, so many years later, that the harm his inaction caused could be just as lethal as a conscious decision to attack and kill.
He’d always known this, but had taken the burden of Eleni’s decisions onto himself.
So why had he kept himself apart from the human world?
What else had he missed because of his refusal to accept that it wasn’t his fault?
The regret was still present. He knew he’d continue to feel that way, but there was also this bubbling hope that he could step away from his past and look forward to something other than his duties.
He was tired of being alone.
Thanatos opened his eyes to look at Iliana.
She gave him a sly smile. “So, you weren’t mad about Anubis kissing me?”
He let out a quiet laugh. The playfulness of her question diffused the tension, removing the painful memories he’d revealed. He promised himself to work through his buried emotions. Right then, he only wanted to think about Iliana. About her and what might have been the hope in her question.
“No, Anubis cares for you, just like I do. And I know he would treat you right.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I don’t even know how to process that.”
“I think you have enough love to give to whomever you choose.” Thanatos tipped her chin up. “I want you, Iliana. But only if this is what you want.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb but didn’t lean in, not yet.
She answered by placing her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down.
He went willingly.
The instant her tongue brushed his, he snapped. He lifted her onto his lap, then deepened the kiss until her moans vibrated against his lips.
He stood and laid her on the bed beneath him, needing more. Needing to feel all of her.
Her body arched against him, trying to maintain contact and stirring a spark inside him.
The door opened with a soft, almost unnoticed creak.
Thanatos pulled his lips away from hers, not needing to look. “Malákas,” he growled through the mental link.
He saw Iliana’s hunger as she looked up at him, eyes dazed, lips parted. All he wanted to do was recapture her mouth and lose himself in her.
Then Hypnos climbed onto the bed, startling her out of the haze.
“Hypnos, what—”
“You’re exhausted,” he said flatly. “It’s time for sleep.”
Thanatos barely held back a growl. He kissed her one last time, then pulled away to let her straighten her clothes.
Before they could process the absurd interruption, Anubis entered. His earlier concern had melted away, replaced by something lighter. The looseness in his shoulders. The slight tilt of his head. That familiar smirk.
Thanatos recognized what was happening immediately. This was Anubis defusing tension and trying to ease Iliana’s discomfort with playfulness.
He hung his head, resigned. There was no point in protesting the intrusion. Instead, he sat down beside Iliana, sandwiching her between him and his brother, and securing a spot for the night.
Anubis came to the bed and leaned around Thanatos. He kissed Iliana goodnight, deliberately theatrical about it. “Sweet dreams,” he said, affectionately.
Then, with a graceful transformation, he shifted into his jackal form and curled up at her feet.
Iliana’s eyes widened, a smile appearing across her lips.
“You’re gorgeous,” she breathed.
Anubis huffed.
Thanatos heard the gratefulness in her words and shook his head. “Looks like we are all sleeping here tonight. Is that okay?”
Iliana narrowed her eyes, but eventually nodded, settling herself between him and Hypnos. Thanatos pulled the covers up over them both, wrapping an arm around her waist. He sighed at the peace he found with her in his arms, even with the others in the room.
He kicked Anubis, earning a nip on the toe and a growl. Iliana stiffened in his arms at the sound, only calming again when Anubis placed his head on her legs. She relaxed, and soon her breath evened out.
Just when Thanatos thought she was asleep, she mumbled, “If any of you guys snore, I swear I’m kicking you all out of this bed.”
Thanatos chuckled and placed a kiss on her shoulder. “Sleep, Iliana.”
Movement grabbed his attention. Hermes stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Something fleeting and raw was on his face before it disappeared behind an affable grin.
“Any reason you stole her away?” Thanatos mentally asked.
Hermes shrugged, then disappeared.
Thanatos fixed his eyes on the empty doorway, unsettled. It wasn’t smugness or mischief he’d seen in Hermes. It was longing. That made Thanatos wary. He would stay on guard in case the god of thieves stole Iliana away again.