Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Logically, he understood. He got it. He really did.
This was the best plan for what they had to work with. It was an opening they couldn’t pass up. There was no telling when Feng would be outside of Aswa again. Attempting to attack him in the heart of New Rosanthe was stupid.
It had to be here and now.
And Tyche had to be the one to do it.
But he shouldn’t be alone. Jules was a nice guy, and while he apparently had some fight training, Shey was reluctant to believe it would be enough for what they faced. Compound that with the fact that Tyche had no fight training whatsoever, and the situation looked dire.
The door opened to the bedroom, and Tyche strode in with damp hair and a rosiness to his cheeks after his shower. A woodsy scent wafted into the room ahead of him from either his soap or shampoo. The god was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and an even baggier T-shirt that was Caspagir blue and had the emblem from the University of Sirelis emblazoned on the upper left side of the chest.
Shey’s eyebrows snapped together, and he sat up. “Where did you get that shirt?”
Tyche flashed a cheeky grin. “Stole it from you before we left Sirelis.” Tyche pinched the front of the shirt and lifted it to his nose, where he took in a noisy breath. His eyes fell shut as if he were savoring the aroma, then opened to stare at Shey. “Mmm…smells like you.” He dropped the shirt so Shey could see his wide grin. “Actually, it smells like the royal laundry detergent, but I started associating that smell with you during our time in the palace.”
A soft laugh escaped Shey, and he could feel his smile fading far too quickly, as if he couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth pinned up where they belonged.
Tyche frowned as well. “Don’t look at me like that.” He shut the door behind him and crossed the room, the floor creaking under his bare feet. The mattress bounced as he climbed into the too-small bed, but instead of sitting next to Shey, he sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, facing Shey.
“I can’t help it. Tomorrow is going to be incredibly dangerous. People are going to die, and I’m terrified that you’re going to be one of them.” Shey licked his lips and his hands balled into fists at his sides. “You can’t tell me it’s not possible. Gods die. Zyros was killed. I fucking watched Yesuntei die. We don’t even have a clue if Cirina is still alive after Kaes made her disappear. I don’t want you to join them. We just found each other.” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking, “Ty, I—”
“Oh, no you fucking don’t! Don’t you dare!” Tyche lurched to his knees and crawled across the mattress awkwardly as the thing sank under him with every movement. He pressed his hands against Shey’s chest and straddled his waist. Shey almost expected Ty to smack him. “I refuse to let you give me some bullshit, last-minute, I-think-you’re-gonna-die confession. Hell, no. I haven’t lived my extremely long life to have a taste of real feelings only to have you toss off some slapdash romance because you’re scared.”
“This isn’t slapdash—”
“Don’t care,” he snapped. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, you can wait for when you can say it without the fear. I want romance, flowers, candles, wine, and violins. Fuck, at the very least, I want to hear it when you’re bursting with joy and can’t hold it in any longer. Those words shouldn’t be riddled with terror, said in a moment of desperation. At least not for the first time.”
Tyche dropped, his butt resting on Shey’s thighs, a frown marring his adorable face. He was right. Tyche had lived a very long existence alone, and this was something that should be treasured. It should be looked back on with overwhelming joy. But Shey also didn’t want to think about him going through his entire life never hearing those words.
He gazed into that face, memorizing the tiny sprinkling of freckles across his straight, slender nose. His dark green eyes glittered and shone like rare emeralds lit by dancing firelight. A cloud of messy, long red hair framed his face. How was he not the God of Mischief? The only thing missing was the wicked curse of his full lips. Right now, they were downturned with worry and frustration.
“I think you forget who the fuck I am.”
Shey huffed a near-silent laugh. “I was thinking it’s strange that you’re not the God of Mischief.”
“Goddess, actually. And she was a real pain in the ass. Met her a couple of times,” Tyche said in an off-hand manner. He stopped and gave his head a shake before frowning at Shey for distracting him. “I’ve stood up to gods, Shey. I went head-to-head with Kaes, a major god, and survived. Yes, I wasn’t alone, but I certainly gave him pause. I stood up to a mad dragon. There have been other gods from my past that I’ve locked horns with and survived. Do you honestly think I can’t handle some humans?”