Page 42 of Patron of Mercy

“I don’t know. I think I’ve always had a pretty good grip on—”

Thanatos cut him off with a glare, marching toward him and jamming his finger in the center of Lach’s chest. “You said we couldn’t travel my way—that it’d make you get sick. Instead you let me spend daysmiserableon that damned boat—”

“Hey!” Lach cut in, anger rising to match Thanatos’s. “You can be mad at me, but don’t talk about Mis that way.”

Thanatos rolled his eyes. “Of course you care more about that boat than you do about—” He caught himself. Fell silent.

What was there to say to that? Lach did care about Misericordia. She’d been his partner and best friend for decades. But it wasn’t a contest. His shoulders sagged. “It’s not like that.”

Another scoff from Thanatos. Crossing his arms, he turned to look out across the water.

The quick rush of anger, then its dissipation left Lach feeling sober and empty. He reached for Thanatos’s hand, resting on his opposite elbow. Thanatos shrugged him off, so Lach stuffed his empty hands into his pockets.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I just wanted—” Whatever he’d wanted, he’d been selfish about it.

Thanatos still wouldn’t look at him, so Lach leaned over to try and catch his eye. “If I had asked you to travel with me, to spend any time with me at all, would you have said yes?” Lach asked.

Silence hung between them, Thanatos’s eyes hard and wary. Didn’t matter how close he was—Lach could’ve reached out and held him in his arms, and Thanatos still could’ve disappeared with a thought.

“No,” he admitted. That was the answer Lach was looking for, the one that would give him half a shot of getting himself out of this mess, and it still hurt to hear it.

Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, Lach nodded. “I get that. You’re completely right. I lied. I did it because I... I wanted the chance to show you I’m not the same man I was the last time you saw me. Guess I fucked that up right off the bat, huh?”

Thanatos didn’t laugh. He still wouldn’t look at Lach. The distance between the god he’d known and the one that stood in front of him now struck him. This wasn’t the first time they’d stood on a dock, one of them imploring the other for mercy.

Back then, Thanatos had looked at him, eyes wide and guileless, and been ready to do anything to close the distance between them. And Lach had shoved it in his face. He’d hurt Thanatos on purpose. Why should he give Lach the benefit of the doubt now?

That wasn’t the point, though, was it? If he wanted to be the kind of man who deserved someone like Thanatos—a powerful god and so, so much better than Lach could ever hope to be—he needed to take the lesson from Thanatos back then. He had to be willing to do anything.

“Listen,” Lach said quietly, hanging his head. “I’m sorry I lied. I wish I hadn’t. If there was some other way to see you, I’m—I’m too thick or careless to figure it out. But you deserve better than that. If you want to go, I get it.”

Thanatos finally turned away from the water and back toward him, and Lach tore his eyes from the planks underfoot and met the god’s hard gaze. “But I’m not sorry you came,” Lach continued. “However I got you here, these last couple weeks have been the happiest since...” Lach bit his tongue. He couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier since before he’d completely wrecked his chances with Thanatos by abandoning him on those docks.

“I never should’ve left you back then,” Lach said. “I was an idiot, and cruel—a complete pile of shit.” He forced a smile, hoping it’d get Thanatos to crack one. No luck. “I’m so sorry.”

Maybe it was the human in him that made him fill the silences Thanatos left. He’d say immortality made Thanatos patient—and no doubt he was a lot older than Lach—but Lach had plenty of time to figure that out. To figure anything out.

He’d been trying his luck with Thanatos this whole time. Every smile, every glance or moment that Lach thought he was making some headway toward winning him over—every small victory was built on lies.

“Thank you for coming with me this far,” Lach whispered.

“I’m not leaving.” Thanatos’s words were as blunt as a baseball bat.

A real grin turned up Lach’s mouth. The god before him didn’t return it, but Lach couldn’t quell his pleasure.

“You sure?” He stepped in, reaching out to cup Thanatos’s cheek. The god turned into his palm like he didn’t have to think about it.

“There’s a world to save.”

An excuse. They both knew it. Thanatos could’ve met him in Santorini. Hades, he was a god. Maybe he could sense the scythe and Lach was entirely redundant to the whole enterprise, despite his adventurous spirit and skill with a pistol.

Thanatos was staying.

Unable to help himself, Lach leaned in and kissed him. It was the first kiss he’d shared with the god in millennia, but a familiar warmth flooded him. Thanatos’s lips were every bit as soft as he remembered—sweet silken heat—and yielding.

Too soon, Thanatos pulled away from him. He tucked his chin down, denying Lach a second chance at kissing him. Didn’t matter. He wasstaying.

“And one pathetic man to keep out of trouble,” Lach added.

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