More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Are you falling back on your do as I say, not as I do idiocy? Because we’ve discussed your stupidity in that area before.” Wade cackled loudly at that and smirked at Jono. Jono shook his head. “That’s more Patrick’s state of being.” “You both hold the title of idiot when it comes to personal safety sometimes.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you and ruin you?” Andras asked through the hunter’s mouth. Jono couldn’t speak, not in his current form, so Wade did the talking for him. “Big words for an ugly-ass meat suit I can crispify in two seconds,” Wade said right before he let loose an explosion of dragon fire so hot it melted metal.
He was done praying to the gods and kneeling before their altars. Love was the only altar Jono would ever worship at from here on out, and Patrick would be the only one to hear his prayers.
“You face a hell you cannot outrun if what you sacrifice is not enough.”
Patrick grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. “You run now, you’re just going to die.” “I don’t get paid for shit like this!” the man cried out. “And the government stopped paying me to do this shit, but we’ll ignore that.”
“Don’t tempt him. Jono lives for grudges,” Patrick warned. Jono snorted his opinion
“Might be useful against demons,” Jono mused. “Only if he believes in that god,” Patrick said. Wade snorted, a hint of smoke drifting out of his nose, the acridness impossible to ignore. “Hell no. Gods are just trouble.” Jono tugged on Patrick’s arm. “At least we’re raising him right.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “He’s nineteen. He could raise himself.” “Doubtful. He’d be living off Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets if he tried.”
there’s a difference between wanting you and wanting to murder you.” “You want me.” “Yes, but there are some days you’re so bloody stubborn I think about murder. It’d be purely out of love though.”
Thursday afternoon found Patrick running on coffee and spite
All of this could’ve maybe been avoided if he had only pulled the trigger when he’d had Ethan in his sights back in Cairo all those years ago at the end of the Thirty-Day War. But if he had, he never would’ve known Jono or Sage or Wade. Never would’ve gained a pack and a family. Patrick would’ve remained alone, and he wondered, right then, if maybe it hadn’t only been shock that had stayed his finger on the trigger, but fate. If there was one sure thing he’d learned over the years, it was you couldn’t outrun fate.
What did she say?” Gerard asked. “Nothing new. Pay my soul debt. Kill my family. The usual.”
“I want a tank,” Patrick said, trying not to whine. Gerard tossed Patrick an exasperated look over his shoulder before his attention shifted farther behind them. “Not even the president has the authority to request tanks be deployed in downtown DC.” “The government should change that.” “Keep running.”
“You’re why I’m getting gray hairs in my thirties.” “It makes you look distinguished.” “It makes me want to strangle you.”
Wade leaned inside, yawning hugely but already dressed. “Demons?” he asked. “Demons,” Jono grunted. “Ugh. I’m bringing mouthwash.” “I wasn’t going to ask you to eat any.” “Yeah, but I usually have to, so this time I’m coming prepared.”
One god of war had gone after Patrick, and another had been sent to aid Jono. The irony wasn’t lost on him; there were many sides to every war, after all.
“I’m not letting you fight Estelle sleep-deprived. Get on the bed. You’re hugging me until I feel less murderous that she tried to execute you in an ambush.”
They had a pack, and they had each other, and it was more support than Patrick had ever had for his entire adult life, because Jono knew his secrets. Jono knew him, and that made all the difference when everything that made Patrick who he was kept being torn down. Except the bones of Jono’s support were made of a fierce belief that would never be shaken or broken.
“You know nothing of worth. Our myths always end, in one way or another. Our lives ebb and flow with the prayers that sustain us and bury us. We are an echo of what we once were. Ethan will build his hell, but you must turn it into his Armageddon, his Ragnarök, his myth’s ending, because gods are never born or reborn easy, and dying is harder than you think.”
“You should know Jonothon challenged us to a fight. We told him he would never see you again if he chose that route,” Estelle said, Andras an echo in her voice. “I’ll always come back to him,” Patrick said.
Estelle flinched at his words, but she didn’t lower her gaze, didn’t show throat. “I will always be a god pack alpha.” “You aren’t anything if you’re dead.”
Patrick wrapped his arms around Jono and hugged him tight. “Even if you can never find me, I’ll always come back.”
Patrick gently tugged the documents out of Jono’s hands before he crumpled them. “You’d have to give up tea if you become American.” “Sod that,” Jono said gruffly. “The US allows for dual citizenship.”
