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There was something untouchable, something holy and unholy about the boys. Sacred and sinful all at once. Bastards of Grace. Fame, wealth and power poured out of them. They were the things of legends and myths.
“You’re the only one who makes me furious.” A smile stung his mouth. “Good.” He looked far too smug. “I’m the only bastard who gets your wrath.”
The only thing I was afraid of was my own mortality in front of him. Gods fell in love with mortals and demolished them piece-by-piece. I had been fighting against the electric pull between us, but I was becoming hungry for more of him.
