Page 132 of The Gods Forbid

Sebastian must have felt me tense, because he looked down at our hands a moment later. My gaze followed, and we both realized at the same time that he’d gotten paint all over me. Something in that image seemed to piss Sebastian off, because he released my hands and stepped back with a frown, looking at the paint splattering my hands like it disgusted him.

“I’ll go clean up,” Sebastian said, the words sounding like they had a hard time passing through his throat.

He left me standing there, purely dumbfounded. We hadn’t talked about last night. We were having a hard time talking at all, which never happened.

He just made me so confused. I needed to know if his sudden change in attitude was rooted in the same place mine was. I needed to know if he felt even half of what I felt.

I needed to know if he’d ever painted me.

The decision was made, no matter how wrong.

➸

Sebastian

She waited until nightfall.

There were many moments where I felt like I just knew what Persy was thinking. The look on her face when I’d talked about painting told me everything I needed to know.

I was at my wits end.

After she’d fled last night, I’d torn apart the party trying to find her. I’d almost bit off Lukas’s head when he told me that she’d left.

And seeing her walk back into the house at two hours past midnight, sure I could see tears shining in the moonlight, had ruined me.

This had to end. Right now.

Hell, I was ready for it to be over the second she put herself in between me and my aunt. I tried to tell her that I didn’t care, needing her to know that everything she had done for me wasn’t in vain, but even that seemed to hit wrong.

The one thing I wouldn’t give up was how easily we could speak to each other. We were losing that, and I couldn’t stand it.

So, I resorted to drastic measures. I let her snoop, making sure the door was unlocked for her.

She could look at anything in that studio.

All she’d find was portraits of herself.

Chapter 31

Persy

I was able to sneak away right after the sun set. It happened later than I was used to, which made me delay my plan.

Sebastian was suspiciously quiet, staying inside his room for long stretches.

I should have been thankful, because it allowed me to slip into his studio—his unlocked studio.

My hands were shaking, knowing full well I was doing something wrong. He always kept his paintings draped, a clear sign that he didn’t want me looking.

I was going to anyway.

After carefully shutting the door, I turned and my heart seized in my throat.

A massive painting was resting on an easel, clearly the one Sebastian had been working on.

I was instantly captivated. It was the original myth of Prometheus, an old god tortured by a hawk carving out his liver over and over again.

Although this time, it was only half a hawk. The rest of the bird was transforming into wispy, soft feathers that eventually transformed into butterflies. As gruesome as half of the painting was, depicting the wound and blood, it looked rather … affectionate.