Page 31 of Patron of Mercy

There had been whispers about the influence of gods, his mother’s infidelity, and witchcraft. Lach had known he had to leave Thrinacia, his family, and everything he’d known behind. And the only person he could take with him—Thanatos—he’d run scared from, because he hadn’t really understood what forever meant. He hadn’t thought it was possible that Thanatos might care for the thieving son of a fish monger for that long. So he’d hurt Thanatos before he could get hurt.

Just as he was getting ready to sink into a sulk to rival all sulks, the bed under him lurched. The open end lifted, folding toward the headboard, lifting Lach off the ground.

Panicked, he tumbled off. No sooner than his feet hit the floor than the bed did too. It could stay, but it wasn’t for him. Mis was kicking him out.

There were two options—he could sit up there, do nothing, and risk Thanatos disappearing; or he could try.

“Fine, fine. I get it. Asshole boat.” He’d have to apologize for that later.

The short distance to the back cabin felt like the longest stretch Lach had ever walked. The tight worry in his chest loosened when he knocked on the door and cracked it open to find Thanatos there on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey,” Lach said softly.

Thanatos only grunted in return.

“I was scared you’d be gone,” he admitted, leaning in the doorway.

“I just said I needed to think.” All the stiffness that had seeped out of Thanatos earlier in the day had returned in full force. Lach could see it in the rigid lines of his back, hear it in his voice.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

“It’s your room,” Thanatos replied sullenly.

Thanatos sat up. He swung his legs around, like he couldn’t stand to lie vulnerable with Lach there in the room.

“I know. But thinking’s going to bring you to the obvious conclusion that you shouldn’t be here.” Lach tried to make it a joke, but Thanatos didn’t smile, and it only made Lach’s heart ache. “I thought maybe we could talk instead.”

He crossed the small room and dropped to his knees. Thanatos tucked his chin and turned away. With a single tentative finger, Lach touched Thanatos’s chin and turned his head toward him. For a second, Thanatos’s gaze stayed trained the other way. When he finally looked at him, Lach smiled weakly and dropped his hand to Thanatos’s thigh. He knew he should’ve kept his distance, that Thanatos didn’t want him there, but if he could hold him, maybe he wouldn’t disappear. Or maybe this was his last chance to touch him at all.

“Listen, I’mreallysorry about the misunderstanding. I could’ve been clearer. When we were in DC, Mis did have a second room, but it disappeared.”

“Why?” Thanatos crossed his arms, and Lach couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect himself. Lach had never understood why he, a god, had ever let him in, in the first place.

Lach’s throat constricted. Vulnerability had never been his strong suit, but he was trying. Maybe if Thanatos knew that he could hurt Lach now, that’d make up in some part for the hurt Lach had caused him.

“Misericordia is supposed to give her captain what they need. It’s... it’s not always what I want, or what I ask for, but what she thinks would make things better for me. And she—she knows I’ve been... lonely.”

Thanatos was staring at him with eyes wide enough that Lach could see the whites all around his irises. Any second now, he was going to laugh and tell him tough shit, so Lach scrambled to explain.

“But it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know how I hurt you. She can just tell how much I want—” Lach broke off. His stomach twisted three-hundred-and-sixty degrees right in the middle. Thanatos blinked at him, straightening and leaning back a fraction.

Desperately, Lach squeezed his thighs with both hands. “I know. I know I don’t have any right to say I want you after what I did. I’m sorry. It’s my fault she took away the second cabin. She misunderstood. That’s why I slept out there. I really wanted you to stay, and I didn’t want to push you for anything else. I just... I don’t know. I missed you and thought maybe this was a chance to—”

Lach sat back on his heels, sighed, and hung his head. None of this was coming out well. Thanatos had the right of it—this whole plan was selfish. Lach wanted more than he had any right to ask. Everything he’d done had been manufactured to get Thanatos to give him another chance. None of it had anything to do with what was best for Thanatos.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said to the floor. “You should go. You’re here because I said we needed to plan—we don’t. Plan for what? And you’re seasick, and... I get it. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t want to spend time with me either. It was selfish and shitty of me to ask you to come. I thought, I don’t know, that it might be fun to go together, but you’ve got way more important things to do than babysit my miserable ass.” Lach couldn’t think of a single compelling reason for Thanatos to stay with him.

Suddenly, Thanatos’s fingers were in his hair. He slipped the cord out of it. It made a soft, muffled sound as it fell on the floor behind him. When his fingers clenched, pulling just enough to send needles of pleasure down Lach’s spine, Thanatos coaxed him to look up.

He did it slowly. The thing about those finely made slacks Thanatos wore was that the soft fabric didn’t hide a goddamn thing. Lach could see the outline of his cock, hard and trapped behind gray silk.

It was difficult to drag his eyes away, up his chest, hardly moving for his shallow breaths, to his half-lidded eyes.

“Thanatos?” Against good sense, Lach slipped his hands higher up his warm thighs.

Hallelujah

It was the worst idea he’d had in centuries. Maybe millennia.

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