Page 14 of Patron of Mercy

“We came separately,” Lach replied.

“Oh...” Frowning, Prometheus looked between them.

“This is Lach. Lach, Prometheus,” Thanatos offered. He still hadn’t pulled away from the hand on his back. Lach had an itch to shoot Prometheus’s arm off and see how fast he could repair it. Assumedly, he’d gotten pretty good at healing himself.

“We actually came to talk to you about Cronus,” Lach began. “I’m sure you’re busy. We won’t take up much of your time.”

Prometheus smiled handsomely with his fucking handsome face and his well-trimmed beard and his ridiculous kind eyes and seriously, fuck that guy.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. And damn if he didn’t have a low, godly rumble of a voice that made Lach want to hang on every word and cozy up in front of a fire on a bear pelt. “You have to come upstairs. Jordan, can you get my guests checked in?”

Prometheus led them over to the front desk. Thanatos went first, filling out his information and signing his name on a clipboard.

“No I.D.?” Jordan asked.

Thanatos shrugged. “Afraid not.”

“No big deal. We’ve gotten pretty used to dealing with gods.” Admiration shone from Jordan’s eyes.

“Thank you, Jordan,” Thanatos said. He stepped away, and while Lach wrote his information down on the sheet under Thanatos’s, he heard his laugh. He glanced back to see Thanatos grinning and Prometheus squeezing his arm.

“Are you... like them?” Jordan asked. Their green gaze flicked toward Prometheus and Thanatos.

Lach sucked in his cheeks and blew out a breath. “Not even a little.”

With his inferiority established, Jordan hardly glanced at him when they asked for Lach’s identification. He had that, at least. Lach was a card-carrying member of the twenty-first century, even if the name on his ID was false.

“All set?” Prometheus asked.

He led them to the elevators. After scanning his ID on a security panel, he pushed the button for the top floor.

“What, so you’re in charge of the vampires now?” Lach asked.

Over the years, more than one person had confused Lach with a vampire. When he’d first become immortal, he’d kept to himself, hung out in graveyards, hadn’t aged. But he didn’t need to suck blood out of bilge rats to survive long voyages, so there were some advantages to being an anomaly.

Thanatos sent him a narrow-eyed, unimpressed look. Prometheus only smiled softly as he led the way out into a reception area.

“I am not. That would be Julian Bell, Master of New York. Matthew—” A harried man stood behind a desk opposite the elevator, shuffling papers around.

“Adrian left cronuts in the kitchen,” Matthew said without looking up.

“Did you get one?” Prometheus asked.

Matthew shot him a look that said he clearly didn’t have time for donuts, croissants, or anything in between.

“I’ll bring you one,” Prometheus offered.

Past the public parts of the floor, there was a more comfortable suite. All modern, it opened up to a kitchen with dark granite countertops. Prometheus made a beeline for the box on the counter. He flipped the lid open and, with a thin paper napkin, picked one out and put it on a plate.

“Help yourselves,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

For a second, that left him alone with Thanatos. Crossing his arms, Lach leaned back against the counter.

“So, Prometheus, huh?”

Thanatos stuck out his chin. “What about him?”

“You two are close.” Was there as much envy sharpening his words as Lach imagined?

---