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Loved. Past tense. “I know,” I admit with shame.
And I was too proud to admit it back to him.
“The question is,” Carrick drawls as he stares at his brother’s lifeless form, “what are you going to do about it?”
“Do about it?”
He nods at Maddox. “Fix it.”
“But…” I can’t.
Can I? My gaze roams over Maddox and the scraped-out husk of a demigod. I felt no pulse, no life.
“You’re a god,” Carrick says harshly. “You just crushed the Blood Stone as if it were nothing more than a gnat. Save my brother.”
My hand tightens reflexively. I have the power to do it. The gods brought me back. Plucked me from a mortal death and created a god. I, in turn, resurrected Finley.
I’m the fucking god of Life. I have the power to make anything grow and thrive.
I can do this.
I start to bend forward but a slurred voice stops me. “Do not.”
Glancing up, I see Onyx standing there. She doesn’t look good, but she managed to awaken from the sleep of Valshour. She blinks slowly, as if she’s still in a partial trance.
“You need consensus. What’s done is done.”
The rules I don’t understand. The vague proclamations that some things must be unanimous while the gods can freely meddle in anyone’s life they want.
It’s simply not fair, although I’m well aware that the first rule I learned was nothing is fair in the game of gods.
“Fuck your consensus,” I snarl, and without hesitation, I place my hands on Maddox’s chest and press my mouth to his.
His lips are cold and dry, but I’m not repulsed.
Rather, I’m determined.
I blow warm breath into him laced with my power, and I dare say, a bit of love to go with it. I feel it deep in my gut, and it’s what gives me the courage to face down Onyx.
My eyes are closed, but I feel the flare of light that I know is radiating from Maddox’s body as I breathe new life into him.
I sense the changes before seeing them as I keep my eyes closed. His lips soften, become warm, and fill out. His bony chest and ribs disappear as muscle bulks out his form.
And the most beautiful thing I feel… his heartbeat under my hand.
Maddox jolts, a clear awakening from death, and I push back to see him blinking. His eyes are clear again, ferny green and sparkling with vitality. His face is flushed, skin warm, and his hair…
“Oh,” I breathe out in awe and a little worry. “Did I do that?”
Maddox’s hair is silver-white. Not the dull, brittle stuff that was as dry as winter grass, but as long and luxurious as before, though no longer golden.
It’s an otherworldly color… much like my own.
I glance up at Carrick, and he shrugs.
Maddox sits up, drawing my attention back to him. I keep my hands on his chest, relishing too much in the thick muscles that still can’t hide the beating of his heart.
His eyes come to mine, bore into me not with gratitude but… with nothing.
