Even in Death (The Fragile Divine, #2)

by Randi Garner

“If you wish to curse me, Lord Cassian, then you must catch me first.”

“I may end my life with the very thing you seek. What will you do then?” Cassian moved closer, wafting a rush of citrus and mint up Finnian’s nose. “Even in death, you belong to me.”

“Death cannot touch you?” Cassian’s eyes flashed up from Finnian’s scar, their golden hue shining fervently. “I am Death.”

The young god had a good heart, and for some preposterous reason, Cassian felt compelled to protect it.

“Some never experience love or warmth. All because of the bodies they didn’t ask to be born into. They crawl through life for no other means than to survive. Some last a few months, others maybe a set number of years. In the end, they die and that is it.” A cynical sound scuffed out of him. “Tell me, Ruler of Death, what is the point of such despair?”

“You are mine to chase, to fight with,” Cassian snapped. “Nobody else’s.” A spiteful smile broke apart his lips, flashing his teeth. “Who knew the High God of Death and Curses to be so possessive?” Cassian’s cheeks kindled. “Stop talking. You are hurt.”

“I loathe you,” he said through curled lips. His breath warmed Cassian’s mouth. Desire saturated in his bloodstream, slurring the voice of reason begging him to disappear—to go home and never chase after the young god again. Yet, all he could focus on was Finnian’s fingers bruising his skin. “I loathe you just as much,” Cassian whispered. I long for you, is what he wanted to say instead.

Such beautiful sorrow. An ache splintered down Finnian’s chest. His breath locked in his diaphragm, stunned by his own pain. The dagger dissolved in his grip and he lowered his hand. “I am not strong enough for this,” Cassian said.

“No,” Cassian whispered. Tears dampened through the material of Finnian’s shirt. “I loathe you, and I…” “Long for you.” The words pushed up his throat before he knew what he said.

“We loathe each other. You raise the dead and I despise you for it.” Finnian’s nostrils flared. “You also cannot curse me. You’ve chased me, yes, but you always help me. You sent your god of death to check up on me regularly, prior to creating my city. Say whatever you wish out of your conflicted feelings, but you came here today for the same reason I crafted a spell to keep every deity out of my home but you.”

“I should not have come, but I ache when I am not in your presence,” Cassian’s voice strained. The tension melted from Finnian’s features. His eyes fell to Cassian’s lips, and he inhaled deeply. “And do you think I do not share the same feeling?” Gods, Cassian craved him. The desire swelled outside of his skin and consumed him whole. I am not strong enough for this. Cassian’s mouth went dry, the breath in his lungs swiftly draining the longer he held Finnian’s gaze. “You cannot care about me.” Finnian took a daring step closer. “Oh, it is far too late for that.”

“I will hurt you if I let you in,” he said, breathless against his own desire. “I do not break as easily as you’d think.”

“I loathe you,” Cassian said against his lips. He ran his hands down the sides of Finnian’s neck, over his shoulders, around his waist, and grazed underneath the back of his shirt. “I long for you.”

Centuries of sound and static had plagued Cassian’s mind. He’d walked each day unknowing of peace, secretly envious of the souls he led into the Paradise of Rest. It was an eternal landscape of respite he’d carved within his own realm. Cassian always longed for the day he would be granted such serenity. Finnian was his stillness in the storm; silence in the screaming; peace in the chaos.

Cassian felt possessed by a longing to tear out of his own skin and claw through Finnian’s until they were one. It was unhinged and delusional, a delirium he’d never craved before in his life.

“You do not have to make me coffee,” he said with a crooked smile “After a long day of work seems to be the most appropriate time to drink it. That is when I enjoy my beverages the most.” Finnian turned over on his side, propping an elbow up and resting his head on his hand. The muscles in his bicep flickered beneath the skin, and his long hair brushed over his chest. “All I can think about throughout my day is you in my bed. If you think I am going to stop and drink coffee before kissing you, you’ve gone mad.”

“Lust and adoration are two different things.” Finnian’s finger skimmed up his spine, the warmth of his breath moistening the side of Cassian’s neck as he leaned in. “Oh, but they go wonderfully well together, don’t you agree?” His shoulders went rigid. “Finnian, I have no desire to show you anything but gentleness, and if we do this, I will ravage you until there is nothing left.” “I am yours to ravage.”

“To waste the day away in bed together,” he murmured. “Spend my days foraging and crafting potions, uninterrupted. Never burdened by the stretches of time we are forced to endure now without seeing one another.” He turned to Cassian with a sad slant to his lips. “Sounds like a dream.” A long strand of hair escaped his tie and fluttered in the breeze. Cassian reached up and pushed it behind his shoulder. “Anything you want, Finny, and I will make sure it's yours.” “And if I said I want forever?”

“You once told me long ago how you were tired of life.” Finnian’s eyes pressed with intensity into his, touching the deepest parts of him. “Is that still the case?” Cassian recalled the moment he referred to. In Augustus, on the bank of the stream, sitting next to him while he twirled a moonflower in between his fingers. It was the first time in a long while he’d felt a semblance of contentment. He reached over and lightly squeezed Finnian’s hand. “Life is never tiring when I am with you.”

He’d been naïve with Saoirse, to believe his feelings for her had been love. Perhaps to some degree, but not like this—not attached to his soul. An extension of himself. A love rooted so deeply, the thought of losing it sent Cassian into a paralyzing panic.

“You can do this,” Finnian whispered, caressing the back of his head. “I promise you, when we come out of this, our Fate will be ours. Untouched.” “I am not strong enough to face you when you despise me. Even if it is only temporary.” “You have before.” “Not after knowing what it is like to love you.”

Finnian’s life was never something Cassian was willing to bet on. One thing Cassian knew to be true after his five thousand years: he loved Finnian. The young god was in his blood, in the shivers of his soul, and if death was Cassian’s fate, then he was willing to accept it if it meant Finnian lived.

“My dear boy, death is a part of life. Do not pity those who step into its Land, nor the ones they leave behind.” “But—but death is separation,” Finnian sobbed, hugging the fish to his chest. “Separation is pain. It is how I feel when we are not together.” Father stared at him, eyes glistening. “Death is peace, Finnian, and pain is simply a sign of love’s presence.”

“Promise me” — Father settled both hands on each of Finnian’s shoulders — “that you will let your hostility go. The life of a god may be eternal, but that is no reason to carry on without granting forgiveness. Forever is wasted if you spend it in anger.”

“Even in death, Finnian. Love is the only thing truly immortal.”

“Love is death,” Cassian whispered, holding him close. “But death is love again.”