Page 27 of Thanatos' Craving

I owed him something.

Be a friend, a companion, just for a little?

I guess I could give him that.

I turned to Athena and said, “You said Thanatos needs to learn emotions? The good kind?”

She nodded. “Yes, he would never hurt you. Know that. He saved you, the first mortal in his entire existence. Do not take that lightly, Juniper. Death never saves a soul, but he saved yours.”

My stomach fluttered.

Death saved me.

But why? Why me?

Confusion must have flashed across my face because Athena stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “You must be someone worth saving.”

I scoffed. “Maybe it was because he thought I was easy. I was wearing a stripper outfit.”

She frowned. “One thing you should know about Thanatos. He can see inside someone’s soul. He judges not what is on the outside.”

Oh. That made me feel terrible for calling him a twat then. He’s probably a sensitive thing. That’s a lot to take if you can see someone’s soul, their insides like that.

I rubbed my lips together, and I heard a growling noise, books slamming to the floor. My heart jumped in my chest, and the worst feeling overcame me. Maybe I had hurt his feelings.

A god hurt? I hurt the God of Death’s feelings?

I pushed through the thick curtain and called out to him. But when I blinked, I found Thanatos’ hand gripped tightly around another man’s neck.

Chapter Nine

Thanatos

“You came back awfully quickly.” Hypnos yawned and leaned back on the couch.

I paced the large living room, my wings trailing behind me. They flowed outward and came inward repeatedly. My body was not sure what sort of reaction to take.

Hypnos eyed me, his brow raised as he sat up from his lounging position.

“What’s got you all riled up?” he asked.

I stopped and ran a boned hand down my face. “She called me a twat,” I said calmly.

Hypnos tried to contain his laughter but slapped his knee and threw his head back. I continued to pace the floor, unsure of this word, unsure of why she would call me such a name.

“I don’t think she tried to call me that out loud,” I spoke over Hypnos’ laughter. He paused, intrigued by my story. “She also asked herself since I have wings, if I molted.”

Hypnos eyes narrowed at me and then at his wings. “Well, can we molt?”

I snorted. “No, we are not birds.”

“But we have feathers. It is quite a logical question.” He trailed his fingers down his white ones. “I’m sure if we willed ourselves to that of our animalistic side, we could very well do it.”

We were twins, but we were very different in most ways. My skin was white, while his was dark. My wings were black while his were blazing white.

I ran my fingers through my feathers, feeling the delightful tingle they gave me when I preened them. They do not fall out, nor have I tried to clip them. It must be a mortal animal thing.

“And a twat,” Hypnos continued with a light laughter, “is a word of vulgarity. Like pussy.”

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