Page 95 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“I’d like to.”

Two dimples formed where his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded and opened his door, and we walked in together. Moonlight flooded through the windows, casting the room into ice and shadows. Hyacinth stepped back from me and bit his lip. He crossed his arms, his ridiculous robes rippling.

He waited for me to move. All right then. I grabbed the door and clicked it into place.

There are sounds that can define an entire life.

The wail of a child being born.

The crunch of an accident.

The roar of an army.

That sound—the click of the door latching, the snap of the lock sliding into its place—was the sound that would change my destiny.

I turned to face Hyacinth, who eyed me warily, like he faced a crowd whose mood was uncertain. Like he didn’t know what to say.

I prowled towards him.

Enough with restraint.

I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard. His mouth parted with a gasp, and I sucked his lower lip between my teeth. He groaned and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing the solid planes of his body, the aching desire of him against me.

I grinned and pushed him against the wall. He hesitated, his hands hovering over my shoulders. But I was done holding myself back. I grabbed him by the hips and jerked him down into a chair, clawing at the silky fabric draping his form. I pulled his robe off, and it snagged. “Off with this fucking robe,” I growled into his ear.

Hyacinth readjusted, dropping it on the floor. “I like my robes, thank you,” he breathed, his chest rising against me.

I bent to lift his shirt, peeling the fabric over his body. His shoulders tensed as I discarded it with the robe and brought my face an inch from his. “What I like is you.”

And I bruised my mouth against his again. Hyacinth tangled his fingers into my hair, and I allowed my hand to skim his form, grazing his muscles, tracing over his hardened nipples. He dropped back, our mouths smacking apart, and his head thumped against the wall. “Hades’ realm.”

I stilled. “If you’re going to use a god’s name in vain to express pleasure, could you choose someone I’m not related to?”

He chuckled, his skin vibrating against me. “Fine. But for the love of whatever god most pleases you, don’t stop.”

A grin shot across my face, and I dropped to my knees against the cool wood of the floor. The room stretched as gleaming blue as it had when we walked in, a world of ice and moonlight. But our bodies heated like two living flames flickering together.

I kissed his stomach and trailed my tongue over his skin. I stopped and whispered against him. “Cyn.” He shivered, goosebumps raising. I traced my mouth down him, tasting the floral saltiness of his flesh until I reached his hips, and he tilted his head back again.

A hunger prowled through me, a desire that burned me alive and made me want to beg to stay in the blaze longer. I loosened his pants, sliding them down, letting them join the pile of discarded fabric.

Hyacinth whimpered. My fingers spread over his hips.

I paused for a moment, taking in his bared body.

The moonlight rippled along his form like a river, dipping and shifting over all the sharp edges of him. He was beautiful. I hesitated, wanting to linger on the moment, wishing to press it into my memory. Because I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this for someone again. Like more than just our bodies were about to join. “Please,” he whispered.

Warmth bled into my limbs. I lowered my face and tasted Hyacinth’s flesh, took him into my mouth, watched as his jaw quivered, his features tightening. “Apollo.”

I growled at the sound of my name on his lips, and he shivered. Somehow this felt like a first time for me, the only time I’d done this with someone when I cared about more than just the physical. There was a word for this feeling—I knew it, but I couldn’t find it in the moment though it seemed to bleed through my veins and pierce through my mind. Hyacinth’s voice scarcely rose over a whisper when he spoke again, a breath of a note in a noisy world. “Please, Apollo, don’t stop.”

And I didn’t. Not until he dropped his head hard enough to tremble a painting on the wall behind him. Not until he cried out, his features scrunching together. Not until one last word left his lips with his cry of release. “Apollo.”

I rocked onto my heels and wiped my mouth with the back of my arm. “Well, I suppose I was wrong.”

Hyacinth’s eyes remained closed, his body limp against the chair. “About what?”

“About getting you to call me more creative things. All I managed to make you say was my actual name.”