Page 6 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

My head tilts upward and I start for the stairs. A light nip—no venom—on my palm has me putting the spider onto the banister and leaving her behind as I ascend to the second floor. I don't stop until I'm in front of Kalix's door. It's then that I hear the male voices on the other side. I lift my hand and knock.

Seconds later, the door opens with Theos on the other side, his glittering gold-white hair shoved back from his face and color high on his cheekbones. "You're awake." He holds the door wider, inviting me in.

Regis is sitting up in Kalix's bed, seeming far livelier than he had the week prior. His face is no longer the strange ashen gray that it had been and his shoulders don't droop as if a heavy weight sits on his back. Across from him, Ruen stands, feet braced shoulder width apart and arms crossed over his chest. At the window, Kalix strikes a dark figure of relaxation where he sits upon a settee, dagger in hand as he carves grooves into the side of the furniture.

I can’t help but stare at those long wooden slices, feeling each one as if it’s a scar branded on my soul. Twenty years I’ve beenalive and yet not a single of those years have prepared me for this. For what I now know. We are alone. Four Mortal Gods and a human against everything—and everyone—else.

Chapter 3

Ruen

Kiera’s face is a shadow of paleness. In the past week, the crescents beneath her eyes have grown darker, longer. Her body is thinner than it had been days ago as if she’s wasting away with each passing hour.

Caedmon is dead.

I close my eyes, shutting out the image of Kiera on the stone floor of our living quarters, eyes wide and unseeing, hair a tangled mess around her face, and the slightest hint of red rimming one nostril. A bloody nose none of us had even scented and proof of her claim—Tryphone's attempt to get into her head and her subsequent reprisal earning that horrible knowledge.

Caedmon is dead.

Spoken in a hoarse near whisper, those three words have turned the world upside down. Yes, I've known Gods could be killed—and more so after Caedmon's admission to the Gods' lack of actual Godhood—but not Caedmon. In my mind, he has always been and would, beyond my own time and death, continue to be. Caedmon was supposed to be a fixture of the world. Now ... I don't know what the fuck he is. Dead. Gone. A God in the wrong world or not.

"They're going to call us sometime today." Theos' words have me reopening my eyes and focusing on the room once more instead of the riot of emotions buried in my head and chest.

The mortal—Regis—begins to slide back the covers of Kalix's bed and get up. No one moves to help him even though as his feet land on the hard floor, he wobbles slightly before righting himself. "I cannot be here," he states. "I should go while everyone is occupied with the Gods."

"That's a good idea," I agree. "No one can know you were ever here."

Regis nods to me. "Do you still have my clothes?"

Theos answers him. "They were too ruined and had to be thrown out," he says before striding across the room to an armoire.

I glance at Kalix to see how he'll take Theos giving over his clothes to a mortal, but he's not even watching the man. His eyes are focused purely on Kiera. Glancing between the two of them, I dimly realize that this was bound to pose issues. Kiera hasn't just been with one of us, and any infighting right now will surely result in one of our deaths if not all of ours.

Quelling the vicious, demanding beast inside, I turn to face him and make short work of the space between us. "Are you going to be a problem?" I demand, lowering my voice until I'm sure only he and I can hear my words.

As Theos pulls out clothes for the mortal, Kalix's green eyes flick up to meet mine. "Problem?" he repeats, tilting his head. "Why would I be a problem?" He arches a brow and smirks as if he can read my mind. Then again, it doesn't take a genius to know what I'm thinking. Now that the week of reprieve is over from the Gods' announcement and the impending trials we're about to embark on hover just beyond the door, he must know that I worry for the sanctity of our dynamic. "You're the possessive one of the three of us," he concludes.

"No fighting," I snap, ignoring his final words. "Promise me. No matter what happens—until we're through this, until whatever the Gods have planned for us has come to an end—you will not lose it on us or our allies."

"We have allies?"

"Promise."

Kalix lowers the knife to his side and frowns. "I don't care if you fuck her," he snaps, though thankfully he still keeps his voice low enough for no one else in the room to hear.

"Then why won't you promise not to cause issues?" I demand.

"Because I don'tneedto." Kalix bares his teeth at me, the twin incisors of his canines lengthening as he hisses at me. "You are not my master, Ruen. You are my brother. Just because I have followed you before does not make you my lord and king. I respect your ability and your intelligence—after all, you're smart enough not to get in my way when I want something."

"You want her." It's a statement, not a question.

"I have her," he replies. "She is mine."

I'm already shaking my head. "You cannot own a person," I tell him. One good thing the Gods had done for this world when they'd come hundreds of years ago was ban that horrid practice. "Even if you could, though," I continue, glancing back to ensure that the others are suitably occupied, "Kiera is not someone who'd allow it."

"She doesn't need to allow it for it to be true," Kalix grits out. His pupils grow slitted and his fangs don't recede, but I don't give a fuck if he's getting pissed off. This needs to be addressed, and though I know it should have been well before now, we're almost out of time. "Just as you are mine, she is also mine. That's why I don't give a shit if you fuck her. My things may play as they wish together provided that they do not go beyond those boundaries."

I blink and for the first time in a long time, I feel my face go slack with shock. A regular occurrence when I'd first met my brother, I'd honestly thought he and I had both grown past the point of surprising one another. Kalix's fangs retract back into his gums, and he presses his tongue against the tip of one now much duller point. Then he stands up, forcing me to step back.

---