Page 26 of Gods of Prey
The silence in our shared apartment stretches like a taut wire, ready to snap. Revel’s been pacing like a caged predator for the past hour. The sound of his footsteps on the hardwood is starting to grate against my nerves.
It’s no better than the tongue-lashing I received on the way back home. The more time that passes, the angrier he gets.
“Stop,” I say without turning around.
“Stop what?”
“The pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”
He doesn’t stop. If anything, his steps become more pronounced and deliberate. “Your brother practically accused me of stalking him tonight.”
I finally turn to face him. Revel has loosened his tie from the gala, the black silk hanging around his neck like a noose. His light brown hair is disheveled from running his hands through it so many times, and there’s a tension in his jaw that signifies barely contained frustration.
“Bash has no room to judge on that matter, unfortunately.” I huff out a laugh, too amused by my own joke to care that Revel looks even more sour-faced than before. “He’s always been paranoid,” I add dismissively, floating closer to the center of the room. “Even as children, he questioned everything. This is just his nature.”
“This isn’t childhood paranoia, Sienna.” He stops pacing long enough to fix me with those piercing gray eyes that are bordering on silver as his anger heats up. “He suspects something supernatural. The way he looked at me—it was like he was seeing through some kind of glamour. And you only added to it.”
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with my spectral form. “Good. His divine consciousness is awakening faster than we anticipated.”
“Or someone is helping it along.”
The accusation hangs in the air between us. I drift higher, putting distance between us even though I know it’s futile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Revel says, moving to the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of wine, “that whenever I think we’re making progress, you do something reckless to set us back. Tonight, Jovie mentioned she’s seen your ghost before. As far back as their wedding.”
I watch him uncork the bottle with more force than necessary. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I finally admit.
“Jovie and Sebastian were married when we arrived together.” He pours himself a generous glass of red wine, the liquid dark as blood in the dim apartment lighting. “How could she have seen your spectral form if you were safely tucked away in Umbraeth, as you claim?”
“I don’t know what she was talking about,” I snap, the lie falling easily from my tongue as my form flickers with anger.
I did return to the mortal realm for a short stint, before Revel summoned me to Aurelys. I wanted to check on Sebastian and Jovie and get a feel for what I would be asking the interim god for help with. It just so happened to be the day Jovie and Bash were exchanging vows.
He takes a long drink before responding. “Don’t you, though? Why does it feel like I’m the only one actually trying to bring Sebastian back to his rightful place?” He sets the glass down hard enough that wine sloshes over the rim. “Tell me, Sienna—what happened in this realm when you died?”
My heart would stop if it were still beating. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it since the gala. The way Jovie talks about you. The strong vendetta Sebastian holds for your death. I’m missing a vital piece of the story, aren’t I?”
I drift toward the living room, needing space from him to think. I won’t allow him to back me into a corner and admit things he has no business knowing. “You have all the information you need to complete our task.”
“Do I?” Revel follows me, wine glass in hand, “I think that you’ve formed relationships there. Attachments that still linger.”
The word hits like a physical blow.Attachments. In the divine realm, attachments are weaknesses. They cloud judgment, compromise missions, lead to the kind of mistakes that result in punishment by the Divine Council.
“I did what I had to do,” I say carefully.
“Which was?”
I turn to face him, allowing my anger to fully show. “I don’t owe you any explanations,interim god. I told you not to cross me before we got here. Don’t forget that I’m still your superior.”
“You’re hiding something,goddess.” He spits the title just as venomously as I did to him. His eyes never leave mine as ataunting smirk pulls at the left side of his mouth, that irritating dimple taunting me. He enjoys this—pushing my buttons until I explode.
“And if I am?”
“I’ve got to figure it out first.” He moves closer, and I resist the urge to retreat. “And then, I’m going to lay you out to dry before the Divine Council.”
“I don’t owe you?—”
