Damaged Gods

I lean over, place one hand on his handsome face, and bring my lips up to his. He sucks in a breath just before we make contact. Like he’s truly afraid of what comes next. But I whisper, “I don’t care what you look like, Tomas. We’re friends now. Looks have nothing to do with that. And this kiss has nothing to do with Pell, or this game, or the smoke, or the magic. This kiss is just me and you.”

He’s looking down when I say all this. But at the end, when I get to the part about us, his gaze meets mine. “You say that now—”

But he doesn’t get a chance to finish. Because I kiss him.

He’s stiff for a moment, his lips unresponsive. But then they soften and mold against mine. His mouth opens first and his hand slips up to my head, his fingers twisting around my hair. He pulls it into his fist as our tongues tumble into each other.

Then there is a pause. A moment when we’re deep into it, but also thinking about the consequences. About Pell sitting a few feet away, watching. About who he is, and who I am, and how we fit together.

We don’t know.

So the kiss ends. But it ends slow, the way it started.

We’re looking at each other when I draw away out of his personal space and back into mine. Then we sigh.

“So,” Pell says. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

I look for malice in those words. I look for jealousy and anger. But there’s nothing to find there. The question is genuine.

Tomas must think so as well, because so is his answer. And it comes with a smile as he plops backwards onto his velvet cushion. “It was better.”

I blush a little, unsure what to do now. Unsure who I belong to. Which is a stupid thought because obviously, I belong to no one. But we all say that, right? It’s something we say. We are our own person.

And we mean it, but…

But. Don’t we all want to belong to someone?

And I want to belong to Pell.

Maybe I didn’t know that before today, but I sure do now. He doesn’t believe in us, but I saw it. So whatever his memories are, they’re wrong. I didn’t make that stuff up.

“Helloooooooo!”

The call is both distant and surprising. It comes from somewhere deep inside the cathedral.

“What the fuck was that?” That’s what I’m thinking, but it comes out of Pell’s mouth.

Tomas jumps to his feet. “There’s the door!” He laughs. “My kiss gave us a door!”

“Shut up, monster.” Pell gets to his feet and then he does something unexpected. He crosses the small distance between us and extends his hand to me.

I look up at him and he gives me a little shrug. That shrug says a thousand things. It’s my fault. I’m sorry I made the dare. Did you like it? Do you like him? Do you like me? What have I done?

And I answer every single one of those questions simply by taking his hand and allowing him to pull me to my feet.

I am his and he is mine.

The kiss between Tomas and me was… something else.

“Hellooooo! Is anyone here?”

“Who the fuck is that?” Tomas is enraged. “Who the hell is inside our home?”

And then he is through the door. Pell takes my hand and we follow. But when I come out the other side and find myself in the upper hallway, just a few feet from the stairs that lead down to the lower great hall, I am me again.

My horns are gone. My fur, my hooves, my cool hind legs—all gone. I’m wearing my classy blue sweater dress and knee-high boots. And despite my earlier claim that they were comfortable, and the fact I wasn’t even wearing them for this whole time, my feet are so achy. I think I have blisters.

Interestingly, Tomas stays the way he was. A dragon chimera. Of course, Pell doesn’t change. He’s just himself.

“Helloooo! Pie? Are you here?”

“Ho-lee fuck,” I gasp. “It’s the fucking sheriff.”

“How did he get in?” Pell asks.

“How should I know? But I told you! I freaking told you the other day that he walked through the gate.”

“He’s bloodline,” Tomas whispers. “He has to be. That’s the only explanation.”

And just as that last word leaves his mouth, my ring—the very thing tying me to this place and this curse—slips off my finger and falls to the floor with a sharp clink.

“Pie?” Russ Roth calls. “Is that you?”

How did he hear that? There is no way he could’ve heard that.

I quickly pick up the ring, but don’t put it back on. “Russ!” I call down. “I’ll be right there.”

When I turn to look at Pell and Tomas, they are both pale. And they are both looking at the ring in my hand. Slowly their eyes migrate up to meet mine and neither of them needs to speak for me to hear their questions.