Page 87 of The Gods Forbid

His power probably didn’t even affect him, just wreaked havoc on anything around him. He could have a nightmare powerful enough to burn through an entire village and he would probably wake up without having broken a sweat.

Maybe someone had told him, accidentally woken up with their skin red and splotchy like it would be after spending too many hours under the summer sun. A partner or girlfriend or someone he looked to for pleasure.

Well. That wasn’t a productive line of thought.

All it made me want to do was leave him to suffer and atone for spending any amount of time with another woman. That was not only incredibly wrong to wish upon him, especially since I made it my career to avoid inflicting pain at all costs, but it was also entirely inappropriate.

I didn’t have any sort of claim on him. I would never have any sort of claim on him.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to lock him in a room and make him give me the name of every single person he’d ever been interested in and make sure they never stepped foot near him again.

Another surge of heat pushed through the walls, lashing out like a solar flare.

I was up and moving before I could even think to do it. My hand barely registered the stinging burn of the metal doorknob, practically melting under the force of his power. The second I entered his room, I was blown back by a blast of wind. I regained my footing and plowed forward, wading through his power like it was mud.

“Sebastian,” I said softly. His hands were glowing, his body flushed with heat from his neck down to where the sheets gathered around his…

He was … well, it was just that he …

He was shirtless. I’d seem a glimpse of his hard chest yesterday, but it was entirely different seeing him sprawled out and surrounded by sheets.

I blinked quickly, reminding myself why I was in here. To help him, not to ogle him.

I approached the bed slowly, careful not to startle him. If he woke up in the middle of a panicked state, for all I knew he’d shoot an arrow into my chest before he realized what he was doing.

“Sebastian,” I tried again, and the warmth in the room pulsed. Degrees lower and back again. But by the time my thighs were touching the bed, his skin was radiating enough heat to burn.

Carefully climbing onto the mattress, I inched towards him. “I’m going to touch you now,” I said, right as my hand descended on his arm.

The second I did, he pulled me into his dream with him.

One moment I was in his room, staring at his glistening, sweat-slicked chest trying to stave off inappropriate thoughts, and the next, I was living his dream with him.

I took in my surroundings as quickly as I could, because there was already screaming and loud banging that was threatening to steal my attention. I was pretty sure I was in the Apollo ancestral home.

Everything was gold and bright and expertly-crafted, a tribute to the pinnacle of arts and perfection. There was a man—Sebastian, I realized—sitting on a sprawling, plush couch, forearms rested on his thighs and head hung low.

I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting it to be him. Even from the top of his head and the curve of his shoulders, I could tell that it was him as he was now. If only he’d lift his head, then I could confirm that the number of dark freckles scattered over his face and neck was as I remembered.

Two voices stole my attention, and I immediately had the urge to cower and hide. That wasn’t my normal reaction to fear, which only served to prove how horrid those voices were. The hatred in their tone, the vitriol in their words.

And directed at Sebastian, I realized.

“You are complacent,” his mother snapped, gesturing wildly with her hands. “For fuck’s sake, Sebastian. You are a disappointment to this family. We have been working toward this for years, with a line that is nothing short of perfection, until your delusional self came along. You’re really willing to fuck all that up in the name of order?!”

Sebastian’s shoulders pinched, bowing under the volume of his mother’s words. His father chimed in next, his voice so loud it sounded like a volcano exploding, taking off an entire side of a mountain with it. It felt that destructive, anyway. “I know your mother and I raised you better than this. Or maybe you were always doomed to be this … thing that refuses to have any sort of ambition whatsoever.”

“I told you I would do it,” Sebastian gritted out, his eyes staying on the floor. “Excuse me for believing it can be done without mass murder.”

His father scoffed, looking up to the ceiling and muttering a prayer for his ancestors to help him deal with his idiot son. That made my hackles rise even further. Everything they were characterizing Sebastian as was just plain wrong.

“You are weaker than I thought if you think that’s not a reasonable price to pay,” his mother shot at him, her words clearly intended to hurt.

The whites of Sebastian’s knuckles popped as his hands squeezed together in restraint. It took everything in me not to run over there, going to my knees in front of him and trying to pry his hands apart so he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“Innocent life for glory?” Sebastian quipped. “What a fair trade off.”

“As if enough innocent life hasn’t already been lost because of that horrid god,” his mother returned pointedly. Sebastian’s head snapped up, and his stare was almost molten with fury.