Page 79 of Gods of Prey
“Have you ever been worshipped, goddess? Properly?”
Shaking my head, I bit my lip. I’ve definitely been worshipped before, but not in the way he’s asking.
“That’s what I’d do next. I’d lay you down and honor every inch of your body. With my hands...” His eyebrows flicker. “With my tongue.”
I’m more alarmed with the heat building in my core at his words than anything else. Because Iwantthat. I know he means it. I need his touch on my body, exactly as he’s described. Exactly as I’ve had him in his dreams.
Worse, even.
But he’s not thinking straight, and I can’t allow myself to get caught up in fantasies and regret.
“Once there’s not a single speck of flesh that hasn’t been touched by me, I’d lay you down and make love to you. Fast, slow. Rough, soft. Angry. Caring. I want all of it. Every version. With you.” His heated gaze never leaves mine as he openly confesses such forbidden things.
I have no doubts about what he’s describing. And if I allow myself to fall into this madness alongside him, I know I’d want the same. I’d want him to fight me and love me. To caress me and use me. Our relationship is so chaotic, there’s no way we could settle for one or the other. I want the goodandthe bad.
But I’m afraid it’ll only lead to disappointment. I don’t often get what I want. Especially when there are beings who would rip it all away from me the moment they catch a whiff of my happiness.
I look away first. “You’re drunk.”
“Yes.” He nods earnestly. “Very. Which is why I can finally say it.” He sets the bottle down with deliberate care. “I’ve hated you for centuries. Did you know that?”
The words sting more than they should, but I refuse to let it show. Tilting my head, I bite back, “The feeling was mutual.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I hated you because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The fearsome Goddess of Death.” He holds his hands out like he’s bracketing the words. “Sebastian’s untouchable sister.” His voice drops lower. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you take on your role in Umbraeth, collecting souls with so much...grace. Probably sooner, if I’m honest.”
A warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with my spectral form. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“Am I?” He sits up, leaning toward where I hover. “Then why can’t I even look at you without wondering what it would be like to touch you? To feel your power matched against mine?”
The air between us charges with something electric. I’ve felt this before—the push and pull between Life and Death, creation and ending. But never so intimate, never so focused on me as a woman rather than a goddess.
“You can’t touch me,” I remind him, though my voice has grown softer. “Not in this form.”
His smile turns wistful. “Another reason to drink, then.”
Something reckless stirs within me. I’ve spent centuries constrained by duty, by punishment, by the limitations of mortal forms. But here, tonight, with the city lights below and Revel looking at me like that...
I focus inward, drawing on my divine essence. It’s difficult in the mortal realm. Illegal. But not impossible.
Gradually, I feel myself solidifying, darkness coalescing into form. My spectral blue-white glow shifts to something darker, deeper—the midnight hues of Umbraeth. My true form.
Revel’s eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise. “Sienna,” He warns, but it’s only halfhearted. More of a knee jerk reaction than a reflection of his true feelings.
I’m so tired of living with the fear of the Divine Council over my head. Dreading the fact that they’ll punish my every move.
I stand before him now, corporeal but not mortal. My skin shimmers with the faintest dusting of stars. My hair, white as the void between worlds, floats around me as if underwater. The mark of Death—a crescent moon—glows faintly on my forehead.
“I am still the Goddess of Death,” I say, my voice resonating differently now. “Even here. They haven’t taken that away from me yet.”
He rises slowly, unsteady but determined. When he reaches for me, his hand meets solid form. I shiver at the physical contact. The first I’ve felt since dying in this realm.
That thought sobers me.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing up my arm.
“Death usually is.”
His palm cups my cheek with a gentleness I don’t expect from him, and the warmth of his life energy seeps into me. “Let me warm you, then.”
