Page 81 of The Gods Forbid

“Almost there, love,” I said when I spied the final door out to freedom. My thumb was still coasting over her shoulder, and there was something disconnected between my brain and my body because even though I kept telling myself to fucking stop it, my thumb kept making those soothing passes.

Persy didn’t seem to mind. If she wasn’t so silent and shocked, I’d even say she was tolerating it. As if in answer, another vague hum built in her chest, the warmth vibrating from her chest and lancing me like the bitter cold.

One might argue that I had started running by those final few feet. Regardless, I made it to the edge of the old cells, out into the sun, and my next step landed on Persy’s doorstep.

Somewhere in my last few steps, I’d started speaking softly to her, telling her what was about to happen next. “We’re here,” was the next thing I said, moving to set her down.

She held on like a spider-monkey.

I released her entirely, letting her weight drop to see how committed to holding on she was, and apparently that resolve was strong as steel. Even with my hands almost floating in the air, she stayed curled against my chest, her arms wound tight around my neck.

I didn’t have any time to think about the type of strength that took—both on the part of my neck and her arms—before my hands came around her again. If she wasn’t going to let go, I sure as shit wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to steal precious moments of her skin pressed against mine.

More small sins I’d have to repent for in the future.

Not now, though. Now, I got to pull Persy closer, transferring weight into one arm and feel her wind tighter against me so that I could open the door.

Something shifted once I got her inside. I could feel her body relax, her muscles releasing just an inch of tension. This close, I could feel the individual tendons flex and relax under my fingers.

“Do you want me to set you down, love?” I asked, bending down in search of her eyes. Her lashes were fluttering in a way that made my muscles feel weak and warm.

Persy breathed in deep, her exhale hot against my pectoral. It registered as hot as dragon fire. I held her, waiting for a response, before she answered seconds later. “I’m covered in food. My ankle hurts.”

The hoarseness in her voice made my knees feel weak. “Tell me what to do.”

Another ragged breath warmed the skin on my chest. “Bathroom, please.”

Even this distraught, Persy was atrociously well-mannered. She’d probably thank me the second I walked in the bathroom.

As I headed there, I turned sideways through the hallway to protect her feet and head. I was so singularly focused on getting her where she’d asked that it didn’t register until I was a stride away from her en suite bathroom that I was standing in the middle of her room.

Shit.

Too much hit me at once. I had a general idea of what her room looked like, formed from stolen glances over her shoulder as she was walking in her room, tossing a goodnight at me in a soft voice.

But seeing it up close, in full color, made me … well, something close to angry. What else did you call the hardened set of my jaw, the blood pumping through my limbs with greater force, the feeling that my heart was beating at a pace I couldn’t sustain.

Her bed was large, positioned in the center of the room and covered in a mass of colorful pillows that struck that precious balance between bright and cohesive. The desk, side tables, and small stool next to a plush couch were all the same color of dark wood.

Every other decoration looked singular—no things the same, even the lamps.

I could have spent hours cataloging every inch of her room, trying to commit it to memory and storing it away until it inevitably came out on canvas. Persy stirred against my chest, pulling my attention back to her.

Her bathroom was nestled in the back corner, full of white marble cut with violet and gray streaks and sparkling silver metal. Persy didn’t seem to be even remotely concerned with letting go of me, forcing me to scan the room for a place to try and set her down.

The countertop of the sink was too high—and conjured up an image I simply could not dedicate any thought to.

The small stool under her vanity was covered in a plush layer of fabric that would be ruined by the food staining Persy’s skin.

Lip of the bathtub it was.

I moved with as much care as possible, gently bending down and resting Persy on the curved edge of her large, claw foot tub. I hated that I knew her well enough to guess that she’d had the tub specially designed to fit her long limbs comfortably.

I leaned behind her, turning on the shower head and adjusting the temperature to a comforting warmth. It was only then, with the sound of the water hitting the base of the tub like rain pattering down on the roof of her house, did the life start to return to Persy’s limbs.

The second I felt her breath pull in deeper stretches, I sank to my knees in front of her, seeking out her eyes.

Her head was bent, her gaze somewhere close to the base of my throat, cemented there. “It’ll help if you clean up,” I said, hoping my voice would draw her attention.