Page 63 of Wildfire

Unlike when he had used this ability in the past, when he had been left wrung out, feeling as though his internal fire had been snuffed, the lava still bubbled and flowed beneath his skin. Merely thinking of it made it rise up in offering—did he need the fire again?

No. Not now. But he understood it for what it was, and he worried for the future of his world, if this creature was only one of many that had escaped. The reservoir of power within him now dwarfed his birthright by a frightening magnitude. Typhon’s power, stolen from the monster as he had killed it.

The flames need never go out, unless he willed it so.

Wilder realized as he dropped to his knees, head down and eyes still closed, that he was naked—his clothes burned away by the flames he himself had produced. It was like that old nightmare about showing up naked for final exams, being naked in front of half the student body, and he couldn’t stifle the broken laugh that came from him any more than he could stop his whole body from trembling.

When someone pushed a graduation robe over his shoulders, he tried to blink open his eyes, and found himself looking at a smiling Theodore Ward. “Good job. And, um, welcome to the family, I think.”

An arm draped around his waist, and without looking over, he knew it was Hermes, and he leaned on him. “This is ridiculous.”

Hermes threw back his head and laughed. “Damn right it is. And it’s gonna be awesome.”

The warmth rose within him again. Not the flames, but... feelings. He let his head fall onto Hermes’s shoulder and sighed. “You’re an ass, and I love you.”

Hermes squeezed him in close. “Love you too, Professor Pyro.”

More than a Spark

The first thing Hermes did was drag Wilder to see Hebe to stuff him with ambrosia. He’d have none of this halfway-to-immortal bullshit that Lach had dealt with for millennia. Lach’s blood was still blood, and Hermes remembered too distinctly trying to press it back into his chest as he bled out after being stabbed by the cultists on Santorini. No, he’d have his baby full of ichor and godsdamned impermeable.

Or as close to it as possible.

When they were home, Wilder kept staring at his hands. His flesh was warmer now, and when Hermes pressed into his side, it was like pushing against a star. Fucking magnificent.

Of course, Wilder had always looked the part of a god—strong, haughty, handsome, and perfect in every single way—but his smile came easier now, like he’d shed something when he burned off his clothes.

Hades below, Hermes didn’t hate that—whenever Wilder went nuclear, he’d burn off all his clothes and stand there in his nudie glory.

“Do it,” Hermes poked Wilder in the side. They were sitting on the couch, listening to Beethoven on vinyl, and Hermes was ruining it by jabbing his finger into Wilder’s soft side. “Do the thing.”

“What thing?” Wilder asked, immaculately arched brow cocked his way.

Hermes grinned. “You know, thething.” He made a whoosh sound and threw his hands up.

And even though he rolled his sapphire eyes, even though he sighed like he was the longest suffering upper-class fire starter in all of DC, Wilder’s lips twitched. Hermes would’ve sworn he almost smiled.

“I am not risking lighting my home on fire so you can get me naked,” Wilder sneered. But he leaned in, his broad chest pressing Hermes back into the arm of the couch. “All you have to do is ask.”

Holy fireballs Batman, that confidence was sizzling.

Moaning, Hermes shifted down on the couch, spreading his legs as Wilder leaned in over him. He felt like a mortal in a teen movie, making out on the couch. Sure, the classical music didn’t exactly fit the mood, but if they timed it just right with the crescendo—

A knock on the door had Wilder jerking back and frowning. Hermes groaned, flinging his arm over his eyes.

“I don’t get no respect,” he lamented, as Wilder detached himself to go and get the door.

Hermes wiggled to sit up in time to see Athena sweep into the living room, pulling the needle off the phonograph with a careless scratch.

“Can wehelpyou?” Hermes snipped. As fuzzy as things had gotten between Wilder and Athena, she was still, sort of, his boss. But that wouldn’t stop Hermes from snarking at his sister.

“I’ve come to discuss our next moves,” Athena said, once again ignoring him entirely.

Hermes beat back an eye roll, but he was sated when Wilder sat down again, his hand closing over Hermes’s knee, stroking slow circles with his thumb. As long as Wilder kept touching him, he supposed he could be patient.

“Our next moves?” Wilder echoed.

Athena sat at the edge of a wing-backed chair and nodded. “Indeed. We dealt with one titan.”

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