Page 180 of Children of Fallen Gods

Ouch.

“That theoretical lonely, cranky man wouldn’t appreciate you invalidating his life’s work.”

“And what if he isn’t so lonely and cranky anymore?”

“He will be cranky until the ends of time, I’m sorry to report.”

Tisaanah let out a low chuckle. Through many layers of blanket, I felt the weight of her head against my shoulder. “Part of his charm, I suppose,” she murmured. “But as long as he isn’t so lonely.”

My hands stilled. I dropped the clippers, and wound Tisaanah’s fingers in mine instead. An easy trade to make. I suppose it was back then, too.

No, I wasn’t lonely anymore. Though, “lonely” was a weak word for what I had been. My aloneness had simply become a stagnant part of me, like a missing limb. I hadn’t realized I was craving connection until I found it again. And I hadn’t realized how much I feared losing it until it almost happened.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better. You?”

“Better.”

I glanced at her. Her brow was furrowed in a look that I knew very well.

“What?” I asked.

She blinked at me. “What?” she repeated, and I pressed my finger on the familiar wrinkle of her brow.

“What’s this for?”

She looked down at her hands and frowned.

“No magic,” I murmured, and she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“Give it time. You died a few days ago.” Just saying those words out loud made me shudder. My lip curled into a sneer, of its own accord. “No matter the cost, I’m glad that monster is gone.”

Tisaanah nodded. Still, she went silent, and I knew her well enough to know that gears were turning, turning, turning inside her head.

I kissed her on the forehead, inhaling her citrus scent.

“We have time,” I said again.

“We have time,” she echoed, and I knew she was trying to make herself believe it.

* * *

We had time.

For so much of my life, time had been a curse — something to be endured rather than cherished. Now? Now I reveled in it.We have time.The most wonderful statement. A fucking gift.

We did everything the long way. That night, we made a ridiculously complex dinner, more food than the two of us would ever be able to eat, becausewe had time. We ate it over the course of several hours, between more than a few glasses of wine and stretches of long, meandering conversation. Afterwards, we stretched out in front of the fireplace and read, exchanging stories with so many interruptions that it took us hours to get through a few pages.

That was fine. We had time.

It was late by the time we made it to the bedroom. Tisaanah had risen and leaned over my chair, giving me one, two, three deepening kisses, the kind that blurred the line between a question and a demand. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. We fell on the bed together, Tisaanah’s arms around my neck, her kisses deep and hungry. The minute we hit the bed, she had yanked off my shirt, and was starting on my trousers, when I pressed her down to the bed with enough pressure to stop her, giving her a coy smirk.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

I stretched out beside her instead, leaning down to kiss her again. Not the desperate, hurried kisses. Slow, our lips and tongues moving over each other with gentle caresses. When she tried to push back, deepen it further, I broke away and laughed.

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