Page 31 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

I’m not grateful to the Gods for coming here. Even if I’m only alive because they did. The harm I’ve seen them cause doesn’t make my existence worth that sacrifice.

“Should I…?” I move towards the Terra female standing behind Theos, performing the same task that one of the males had attempted on Ruen. Her wrinkled hands jerk the measure across his back and then she circles to the side, wrapping it around his bicep as a strand of her graying hair slips out of the loose bun on the back of her head.

“No,” Theos answers, guessing my question before I have a chance to finish it. “No, you don’t need to help them. I’m sure most of the other students have already had their attire made for the event tonight. We were caught off guard when we got the invitation at midnight last night. Unless you can sew…” He looks at me with expectation.

I shake my head. Sewing up a wound? Fine. But clothing? I cast a glance at the mannequins and the luxurious glittering fabric of the suit coats sitting there. It’s not my forte.

Theos nods as if he expected as much. “Then don’t worry about it,” he says. “Besides, you have to start getting ready soon too.”

My head spins away from the mannequins. “What?” Me? Why would I have to get ready for a Day of Descendance party?

Kalix’s creepy ass smile widens even further. I don’t know how it’s possible, but the damn thing takes up almost the entire lower half of his face. It’s the most terrifying expression I’ve ever seen on him.

Theos blows out a breath and eyes me up and down as if he’s measuring me the same way the Terra flitting around him like a honey bee is measuring him. “All claimed Terra are required to attend these kinds of parties,” he explains and then tilts his head to the side.

Discomfort fills me, but I don’t shy away or flinch from his narrowing gaze. “You of all people won’t like it,” he says. “But there are certain … other requirements as well. Events held by the Gods, themselves, aren’t like what you might be used to.”

Even if I’m not necessarily sure what an event held by a God looks like, considering the only parties I’d ever been to were rough and tumble tavern brawls, I have to agree with him. Unfortunately, that only serves to increase my dread. That, combined with Kalix’s unusually elated expression, means that this is nothing good.

I sigh. “What do you need of me, Master Theos?” I dip my head as another of the Terra men skirts around us to stop at Kalix’s side. Though the man is taller than the average human and built a bit wider, his hands tremble as he holds up his own tape to Kalix’s arm. Kalix, for his part, doesn’t move.

Theos fixes me with those golden eyes of his, silently begging for my understanding. He waits until his Terra has finished measuring him and moves away, back towards the copious amounts of fabrics that are strewn throughout the room on lounges and even covering Ruen’s reading table.

Kalix snorts, causing his Terra to jump in surprise. The scent of fear permeates my nostrils along with … I wrinkle my nose and glance at the man, whose pale face is even more ashen, almost grayish. Did he just piss himself?

I glance at the man’s trousers but note no stain. Still, my upper lip curls back in disgust. It’s not showing, but even if it was only a little bit, I can smell the sharp, acrid odor. He, too, finishes quickly and hurries back to where the others are twittering around each of their mannequins.

Theos steps closer to me and my eyes settle on the expanse of naked male chest before me. Images of that one night we’d spent together circulate in my head. I drag my eyes up to his face, but that doesn’t make them stop. No, instead, my gaze fixates on his lips, remembering the softness with which they slid over mine before delving down, down, down further until he’d sucked my clit and tasted my pleasure on his tongue before giving it back to me.

Heat crawls up my throat, choking me with a strange wanting that I’ve never felt before. One night. That’s all it had been and it can’t be anything more. I told him that, and I’d meant it.

“I need you not to unman me, Dea,” Theos says, dropping his voice to barely a breath below a whisper. Something that only he and I—and maybe Kalix—can hear. His words hit me and force me back to the present rather than to the place behind his bedroom door where he’d taken me gently and roughly with everything I never knew I desired.

“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” I reply, matching his tone.

He closes his eyes, dark lashes lowering over his high cheekbones. A moment passes and then another. It takes Kalix’s long breath for Theos to reopen them, shooting his brother a dark glare before returning his attention to me, expression softening the second he does.

I shouldn’t feel the way I do at his easing tension when he looks at me. Like there’s an opening in my chest, a hollowness that is waiting to be filled.

“You’ll be attending the event with us as expected,” Theos murmurs, “And Dolos is sending along the…” His words trail off, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out how to word whatever it is he’s trying to say. “Ensemble,” he finally decides to go with, “that you’ll be expected to wear.”

No, definitely not a good thing.

Then the door behind us opens and a new Terra enters, her face far more youthful than the other three as she bustles in with a mannequin clutched in her arms. She moves awkwardly, hefting the mannequin higher as she tries to keep the legs from scraping the floor as she sidesteps the three of us.

Her arrival doesn’t cause a block of ice to sink to the pit of my stomach so much as the scraps of fabric that cling to the mannequin she’s holding do. I gape in shock and horror as she walks across the room to set the damn thing up alongside the other three. Unlike the suits and jackets hanging from the guys’ mannequins with the long sleeves and glinting, ornate buttons, this fourth one has no such coverage.

“That’s not a dress.” My words choke out as I stare at the sheer strips that curve down the female-shaped mannequin, pinned in various places.

Kalix snickers and shakes his head.

I can’t punch a Darkhaven, I remind myself. If I tried, they would immediately know that I’m not as weak as a normal human. The desire to, however, doesn’t go away. It only grows as the new Terra flips through the fabrics and jewels that litter the ground and lounges. Picking up a thick golden neckpiece, she settles it on the neck of the mannequin before pulling the transparent fabrics up and doing something with her fingers that I can’t see.

When she steps back, it looks like the strips of barely there material are coming from within the necklace. No, not a necklace, I concede. It might look sparkling and pretty, but I’m no ignorant innocent. That’s not a piece of jewelry. No matter how many rubies, black diamonds, and topaz gems are encrusted into the piece—I see it for what it truly is.

It’s a damn collar, and wearing it will be proof that I’ve learned my lesson for my disobedience and disrespect.

Now Theos’ comment to not unman him makes sense.

---