Page 224 of The Gods Veiling
“Let me do this. I can’t take your pain, Thayla.”
I take a couple of deep breaths until the burning down my spine subsides. He takes that as his sign he can start walking. “You can feel my pain through my soul? Can they?”
“They won’t feel it to the extent I do, but yes, we can all feel it.”
I groan. “Okay, so I can assume your domain has to do with souls?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Still not comfortable enough to tell me?”
“Comfortable isn’t the word I’d use anymore.”
The uncertainty in his voice is shocking and I don’t know how to respond. After what he did for me today, I don’t think there’s a domain he could tell me he has that’d scare me.
Of course now I have some guesses, but they’re off the wall if I’m being honest. I have an ugly tendency to think the worst, and I’m not trying to do that to him or any of them anymore. Not after today.
I may still be mad at the situation I’ve been put in, but it could’ve been a thousand times worse had I got a Valtrue of other gods.
What if the god that’s messing with me had interfered with Derivius’s plan and paired me with Mellcom, Jeremiah, Chasin, and Gladian instead of it being Mara?
The thought makes me shiver.
“Reach your hand back and open your door.”
“You can do it.”
“I can’t—”
“I’ve already given all of you permission.”
His chest flinches against mine. “When?”
“A couple days after the Abandon.”
He hums, maybe grunts, as he opens my bedroom door and heads straight for the bathroom. When the lights come on, I squint until my sight adjusts, then I catch my reflection. Well, my face that’s resting on his shoulder.
“Yikes. I definitely look like I went toe-to-toe with the God of Strength and lost. Maybe next time.”
If I didn’t think I could be even more mortified, Creed proves otherwise. Instead of giving me the chance to try to get balanced on my own again, he sets me on the toilet. Then he kneels until he’s eye level with me.
“I’m not the brother to make those types of jokes with. That’d be Riven, possibly Kyzen, depending on the subject. There will never be a next time.”
My lips part as I struggle to find something to say.
Note to self, Creed doesn’t appreciate dark humor in tense situations.
“I think I got it from here,” I whisper.
To my surprise, he flicks on the sink as he passes it by, then perches himself in the doorway with his back toward me. I have half a mind to tell him to get all the way out, but the way my bladder is begging for relief, I decide it’s not worth it.
Slowly rocking from side to side, I grip my pants—not pants, definitely not pants.
Frantically, I pat myself down and take in the state of the clothes I’ve been dressed in.
It’s just an oversized T-shirt with the back cut out, someone’s boxers, and nothing else. One wrong move and I’m going to have a nip slip out the armpit hole.
Just take care of your business, then you can ask questions.
