Page 65 of The Gods Forbid

“It would be,” I said, when I was sure my voice wouldn’t expose the bit of pain twisting through my chest. “It’s something to look forward to.”

At that, Sebastian let out a short breath of laughter. “Oh, love, I’m not going there. For my sins, I’ll be lucky to land in the Meadows.”

I felt myself frown. “Mistakes do not condemn you for the rest of your life.”

“Mine do,” Sebastian returned. “You know that better than anyone. My options are to stay with you every six months for the rest of my life or change until your brother is satisfied with the outcome.”

Oh. I hadn’t realized I didn’t tell him. “Sebastian, unless you start back up the conspiracy, you aren’t coming back to Prometheus.”

And he’d already said he didn’t have plans to do it. Six months. Well near four and a half, now, and he’d be gone. That was a good thing.

Sebastian’s response distracted me from the realization that the thought had felt like a reminder. “Counting down the days,” he said, with a sly grin on his lips.

While I tried to get over the small flicker of disappointment that curled through my chest at the sheer joy in his tone, he returned his attention to the painting behind me.

I looked behind him, as much as I could over his massive shoulders, trying to take in some of the other paintings. As far as I could tell, this was a pretty good collection.

His more lauded, coveted ones, including the infamous Sunlight Incarnate, were scattered around the Mediterranean, but this was likely one of the most concentrated collections.

I’d always been a secret admirer of his, feeling oddly understood by the images he brought to life. In the silence, my mind and body had an opportunity to remind themselves that they had spent the past several hours completely off-kilter.

First, it was sleeping poorly after that conversation with Sebastian did not go as planned.

Then, it was Aren and the horrible fury watching her ogle Sebastian twisted through my stomach.

And now … now, felt worse, somehow. It was like my senses were shut off, channeling all my energy into the ones that remained.

It was so quiet in here, and we were the only two people inside the gallery. The only thing my mind could latch onto was Sebastian in front of me, which made him feel far more imposing than he already was.

His hair was a bit messier today, the dark brown strands falling in a way that made him push his hands through his hair every few seconds. He was freshly shaved, but there was a hint of stubble already peeking through. His eyes looked bright today, the fullest, most pure form of the colors swimming there.

That seemed to happen whenever he was studying something closely, like he was doing to the painting over my shoulder. Or at least that’s what I assumed he was looking at.

I don’t know what part of me decided to lose it, but the point was that I was going crazy. There was something that was happening to me while watching Sebastian analyze a painting like he saw right down to the individual brushstrokes that made me want to equally spill all my secrets and lose my filter and ask him anything that came to mind.

He saw things so thoroughly, seeing straight through to their very core.

And he was honest—at times brutally so. I had this bone-deep desire to understand his motivations, even push him a little, so much so that my conviction to stay rational and calm was trickling out of my body like raindrops falling down a window.

“Sebastian,” I said, softly beckoning his attention before my mind could catch up and stop me. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

He choked on nothing but air, coughing and trying to clear his throat as he shifted his eyes over to me with a shocked expression.

I started rambling to cover up the embarrassment heating my cheeks. “I only meant that—I’m just trying to figure out why … I don’t mean to cross a line, but…”

I trailed off, knowing I’d already damned myself by opening my mouth in the first place. This was the worst way to go about this. I wanted to learn more about his motives, and maybe there was a small side effect of pure curiosity, which was so beyond dangerous I was hoping he’d just forget I’d said anything.

I’d never know if it was because he was the god of all things beautiful and therefore his judgment would be better than most or if it was his opinion as a man that I cared about more.

“Persephone,” Sebastian was in front of me now. Closer than he probably should be but far enough away that I had the urge to step towards him. I could hide my blush by looking down if I was closer, so I took the step anyway. “Why are you asking, love?”

I shook my head, staring at the worn canvas of his boots. “Forget I asked.”

“Unfortunately that is quite impossible.” Sebastian stepped to the side, allowing the light from the window across the gallery to hit me, warming my skin another degree. “Look at the painting if that’s easier, but you’re going to explain.”

I really should have told Sebastian that I didn’t have to do things just because he said I did, but the words were lost when I lifted my eyes to meet his. A feeling not all that different from the one I got when I was sucked into the landscape behind me, when your eyes would bounce from the horizon to the forefront of the painting and back, spinning an ease through your chest that made it easier to speak, settled over my form

“I only ask because…” I took a deep breath, then just decided to go for it. There was an odd comfort in speaking to Sebastian, knowing we were supposed to be completely honest with each other. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you refused to hurt me. I can’t figure out why I was different than Adrian.”