“I don’t need you to joke or to smile. I want you to be who you are, to feel what you feel. That’s all.”
“How can you say you’re okay with how I am?” He broke eye contact.
“Because you’re you.” She wanted to let the conversation end there, but a gut feeling told her to continue. “I can tell something from your past hurt you. Everyone experiences different things that influence their behavior. I’ve been through my own kind of hell. I’m not always rational, and I’m still…”
The word caught the way ‘family’ had earlier.
“Grieving. Still afraid. Some days I wake up and forget they’re gone, then remember, and it’s like losing them all over again.”
She looked down at her hands. “Watching that show with Thanatos, sharing a memory of my dad, it hurt. But it also felt good. Like I was keeping him alive by remembering. Like maybe grief doesn’t have to mean forgetting how to be happy.”
Iliana tried to smile to show him there was a way forward. The pain of her parents’ deaths was still there, catching her off guard when everything was quiet. But each day she spent with the gods made her feel as if it were possible to survive that pain.
“You and your brother didn’t sign up for this. I’m sorry if I’ve made things harder.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said roughly. “I don’t blame you for disliking me. I was an ass.”
She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t dislike you. Just your assholery.”
A startled laugh left him before he quieted, studying her. He was silent for a long moment. Then, in a rough voice, he said, “I’ll try to be better in the future.” When she started to interrupt, he held up his hand. “I’ll still be a grumpy Malákas often, so don’t expect much.”
The shift in tone, from heavy to light, made her blink. Then she realized what he was doing. He was giving her a way to step back from grief before it pulled her under.
She took it gratefully. “What doesMal-a-kasmean?”
“The tamer meaning is a jerk, asshole, or stupid,” he said, his lips twitching.
Biting her lip, she asked, “And the not-so-tame definition?”
He blushed. “Um, someone who enjoys himself too much. Alone.”
Iliana burst out laughing despite Hypnos narrowing his eyes at her. “That was way more information than I ever wanted to know about you.”
Hypnos grumbled and crossed his arms like a petulant child. She grinned, leaning against his side, fluttering her eyes up at him. Poking at him came naturally.
He glanced down, his lips pinching suspiciously. It was almost like he was trying hard not to smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tucked her against his side. “Don’t make me have to put you to sleep so you’ll shut up.”
It endeared him to her even more to know she could get the grumpy man to joke with her. “Uh-huh, empty threats.”
They stayed like that, silent and relaxed. His scent—lavender and chamomile—calmed her. It eased her worry about the others’ absence. She considered asking about his past, about why he lived in his cave, but decided against it. She knew how easily terrible memories ruined moods.
“Do you want to keep watching the show?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Let’s watch a movie instead.” She wanted to watch her show with both twins.
“As long as it isn’t a sappy romance.”
She laughed, grabbed the remote, and settled back against him. “No promises, grumpy Malákas.”
Chapter fifty-five
HYPNOS
Iliana rested against him. She wasn’t asleep yet, but she was getting closer with each exhale. The movie played on, a low-budget sci-fi flick about space travel they’d agreed on after bickering over what to watch. There were glaring errors in theory, and the dialogue was ridiculous, but Hypnos kept his commentary to himself.
Not because he didn’t have opinions. Gaia, did he—but because she was peaceful. Unworried. And for once, she was in his arms because she chose to be.
He hadn’t lied earlier. He wasn’t Thanatos—no matter how badly he wanted to believe he could have this. That he deserved it. That he could be more than a god of sleep and regret; someone she could trust. Thanatos and Anubis had changed, their walls coming down for her. Could he do the same?
