Chapter 6
I went to sleep in a strange state that night.
I collapsed into bed and let out all the tears I’d been holding back, thankful that I’d made it to my pillow without letting anyone see me fully break down.
I was a huge mess, but somehow also a happy mess, high on touch and promises.
I couldn’t fully parse out all of my raging feelings.
I was simply overwhelmed. My conjured fantasy of Thanatos crushing Keeper’s throat added fuel to the fire in the form of guilty anticipation.
I wondered anxiously what he would do. He had been so furious.
In the morning, I did try to be somewhat useful, but that was difficult since I wasn’t permitted in the prayer grounds looking injured.
So instead I kept an eye out as I crept around the temple, trying to hide my face as well as possible.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to see our keeper, if only to know what had happened.
What a strange thought. But he never showed, so my curiosity would have to persist. I reluctantly took this as a blessing.
After all, there was someone I wanted to see much more.
Thanatos and I were standing at a precipice, a truth underscored by my nervous anticipation as evening drew closer.
He touched me all too easily now, and I was fairly certain he’d been on the brink of exploring his curiosity before becoming distracted by thoughts of vengeance for my injury.
He’d even tried to warn me of his faltering restraint.
You can always tell me to stop. To leave. I knew he meant to caution me, to ensure I understood the myriad ways our relationship could lead to my reaping at his hand. I may like you, Cyrie, but I will not spare you. At least Death was honest.
But at the same time, he had given me a gift, one that was a precious rarity in my life.
Agency. He made no noble gesture to decide for me either my welfare or my feelings; I was safe in the certainty that whether we continued our visits would be my choice.
And somehow, I found that the choice was easy.
The fury of Apollo or the deadly judgement of the temple paled in comparison to another danger: that if I gave Thanatos up, I would be trapped forever in the oracles’ tower, and never again have the chance to be held so sweetly by someone I desperately wanted.
So when the sun sank low, I walked decisively back to our meeting place and paced in anticipation of his arrival. But for the first time, Thanatos was late. Anxiety pitted in my stomach when the sunset faded away.
The night sky continued to darken until only the soft light of my lantern brightened our room.
Surely he would come to see me, wouldn’t he?
Surely he wouldn’t discard me, not after we’d been so vulnerably honest with one another.
I tried to calm myself by lying across the bench, right on the spot where I’d drifted to sleep in his lap.
This fact was not lost on me, but there was nowhere else to go.
Nearly everything in sight held a memory of him.
I waited nervously for what seemed like an age, until—finally—I heard the sound of his arrival in the room. When he appeared, I twitched in surprise. I sat up quickly, and tried to arrange myself as though I hadn’t just been stretched, undignified, across the seats.
“I am sorry,” he said, and he walked to sit beside me, a hint of worry on his face. “I was trying to get something for you.” His feathers looked a little bit ruffled.
“Oh?” My tension dissolved as I leaned forward to let him arrange one of his wings behind me. He seemed to mirror my relief, his countenance brightening considerably. “You have a twig in your hair,” I noticed.
“Oh, never mind that,” Thanatos replied hastily. He tugged the stick free from his pale strands and threw it to the ground. Then he smiled tentatively at me, a glint in his eyes. “Come here.”
I obeyed and slid closer until our thighs touched, watching him curiously.
I could see now that he was holding a short, clear glass jar that fit neatly in the palm of his hand.
Inside was what looked to be some sort of cream, smooth and tan in color.
I watched, perplexed, as he dipped a thumb in and scooped some of it up, then tossed the jar onto the table.
When he reached for me, I leaned in, understanding now.
With one hand he held my face, cradling just behind my ear.
With the other he carefully smoothed the product over my injured cheekbone.
I closed my eyes and let him do it, trying my best to not wince away.
When he was satisfied, he let me go. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, nothing happened.
“Ah!” I gasped. It felt like I’d been stung by an insect. But just as quickly as it had come, the pain of the sting faded, taking along with it…all of my pain. My brows drew together as I lifted a hand to my cheek and felt nothing but smooth skin and a swipe of cream.
Thanatos wiped off the remaining fluff and smiled shyly. “That’s better.”
I pressed my hand into my face in bewilderment. No pain, no tenderness. It was as if nothing had happened at all. “What is that?” I breathed.
He shrugged, and his grin turned a bit naughty. “Hades has many things which he will not miss.”
My mind was reeling. He’d brought me magic?
That stuff was probably meant for a demigod’s remarkable adventure, not to wipe a bruise off some mortal girl’s face!
Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away as I looked up at him.
I couldn’t cry now. Right now, there was only one thing to be done.
My heartbeat raced as I reached for him.
Days of letting him touch me softly had done nothing to lessen the fear, or the temptation, of touching him back—but now there could be no more restraint.
Thanatos leaned toward me in the slightest invitation, and I slid my hands over his shoulders, up his neck, until I held his face.
Color warmed his pale cheeks. His eyes searched my own, burning with a question I intended to answer immediately.
I pressed my lips to his, and all the world went still. And lovely Thanatos kissed me back.
His arms closed around me, capturing me in his embrace.
His kiss was warm, the caress of his lips soft but deliberate.
I melted against him, feeling him, tasting him, not entirely certain of what I was doing but emboldened by the sheer joy of it.
Something this wonderful, this maddening, should have been a dream.
But here we were, and all I wanted was to explore this irresistible sensation with him.
I stroked my fingers gently through his hair, hardly restraining happy whimpers. My breath came raggedly as I eagerly returned each of his sweet kisses. He’d never stopped kissing me. Gods, yes, he’d never stopped kissing me. He teased my lips with his tongue, and I let slip an involuntary moan.
Thanatos smiled against my lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, blushing harder. So much feeling, I could burst.
“Then let me hold you.” He released me just long enough to hook his forearm behind my knees. He scooped me into his lap with fluidity that belied the strength it required, then claimed my lips again, now closer to me than ever before.
I swooned. To be pressed against him like this was everything I wanted, and yet somehow I felt hopelessly desperate instead of fulfilled.
My skin was so sensitive, and my breasts ached for attention, and I felt empty and needy between my thighs.
Was I losing my mind? I was dizzy, melting, and all I cared for in the world was that I never wanted him to stop touching me.
“You’re shaking,” he noticed. It was an understatement. I was downright trembling in his arms.
“It is not fear,” I replied smartly, mustering my last mote of wit.
He chuckled and squeezed me reassuringly.
Then he eased his tongue into my mouth again while bringing his hand to the small patch of skin that lay exposed between the nape of my neck and the top of my dressy chiton.
He dipped his fingers beneath the linen, tracing my spine until he could go no further without tearing the cloth away.
I wished to do the same to him, to explore his skin and his feathers, but I was not brave enough.
I only had courage enough to kiss him and hold him and watch him.
Thanatos looked truly heavenly in the lamplight.
Shadows danced with the flickering flame across the planes of his face.
His hair fell smoothly over his shoulders in a pale, glossy river.
He blushed softly across his cheeks and wet lips, his lashes fluttering with every kiss I gave.
He ought to be worshiped with my kisses. I wanted to make him feel worshiped.
He tipped my chin sweetly to kiss beneath my ear, and I shivered as goosebumps spread down my neck. “Please be careful,” I whispered. “They can’t find out.”
“I will be gentle,” he promised.
He was. His lips ghosted over my skin to press softly against my rapid pulse. He kissed lightly down my neck, drifting lazily to the hollow of my throat. He licked me there sensually, then kissed his way back until his breath tickled my ear. He gave it a delicate bite.
“Mmmh,” I sighed. I nuzzled against him as he stroked my face.
“No one ever asks me to come back,” he murmured.
When I understood his meaning, my heart melted. Of course no one did. So I would simply have to make up for all of them. “I will ask you every day,” I whispered. “I will.” I tried to convey my adoration with soft caresses.
“Mmm.” I felt him smile against my neck, and he rubbed my back affectionately. He lingered there, drawing out the moment, before sighing sadly into my shoulder.
“Oh. You have to go, don’t you?” I realized.