Page 33 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Sienna

I find Revel on the rooftop of our apartment building later that night, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers as he sits dangerously close to the edge.

The setting Seattle skyline glitters before him, a poor imitation of the stars that blanket Umbraeth.

His shoulders are slumped, defeated in a way I’ve never seen before.

“Starting the party without me?” I materialize partially beside him, letting the cool night air pass through my spectral form.

He doesn’t startle. Somehow, he always knows when I’m near. “Didn’t think the Goddess of Death would be interested in celebrating.”

“Depends on the occasion.” I settle beside him, my ghostly legs dangling off the edge. Thirty floors up. The fall would kill a mortal instantly, but Revel isn’t mortal, and I’m already dead. “What are we drinking to?”

“Failure.” He takes a long swig directly from the bottle. “Or maybe success. Hard to tell the difference anymore.”

I understand what he means. Sebastian has fully awakened to his divine nature. We’ve got a plan set in place to return. Yet the cosmic balance is faltering more each day. Our fates still rest in the hands of gods who want to see us fall. We’ve fulfilled half our mission and failed at the rest.

“How much have you had?” I ask, eyeing the bottle. It’s nearly half empty.

“Not enough.” He offers it to me before remembering I can’t take it. A bitter laugh escapes him. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Must be nice,” I say, watching a drop of amber liquid roll down the neck of the bottle. “Being able to dull your senses.”

Scowling, he holds up the bottle. “With this garbage? You didn’t ever warn me how horrible mortal alcohol is.”

I huff out a laugh. “It certainly doesn’t compare to an ice-cold whispershade.”

My mouth waters at the thought.

Revel releases a disapproving sound in his throat. “It’s not working, anyway.” His steely eyes find mine, startlingly clear despite the alcohol. “My problems are still just as sharp in my mind.”

Something flutters in my chest, a sensation I haven’t felt since I was last alive. I look away. “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to forget what’s at stake.” He leans back, looking up at the sky. “A fae, Sienna? Really?”

My expression falls. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Good, because I don’t.”

Hot anger floods my chest. I knew he’d be like this, but I had hoped, deep down, that his time with us would have him see that the Divine Council’s way is not the right one. “How is this any different than Sebastian and Jovie? Relationships with a mortal are just as taboo.”

He barks out a condescending laugh. “Mortals and fae are hardly the same.”

“Then we’ll agree to disagree.” I drop my gaze to the city below.

We sit in silence, each of us too stubborn to abandon our own belief. “I’m sorry you lost him,” he finally mutters. With a teasing smirk, he tacks on, “Even if it makes you a fae apologist.”

“Thank you.” I lift my head, searching his gaze for any sign that he’s lying. To my surprise, he looks genuine. We’ll have to work on the fae aspect later.

“Do you really think the Divine Council will concede to all our wishes?”

I shake my head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Your mother won’t let them hurt you.”

He forces out a bitter laugh. “Won’t she?”

My brows pull together in a frown. Through all of this, I’ve been certain Myelle would protect him when it came time to dole out our punishments. Have I had their relationship all wrong?

“I don’t think so.”

“She’s only one of seven. Those aren’t the best odds. If they want to ruin me, they can easily outvote her.”

“Let them, then.” I’ve never been afraid of the Divine Council. Thirty-three lifetimes of punishment have burned away any fear I might have had. “What more can they do to us?”

“To you and Sebastian? Not much. To Jovie?” He lets the question hang.

Ice forms in my veins. “They wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t they?” He turns to me, suddenly intense. “They sentenced you to fifty lifetimes for far less.”

I drift upward slightly, agitated. “They will not touch her.”

“Because Sebastian won’t let them? Or because you won’t?”

I don’t answer. My attachment to Jovie is still a weakness I can’t afford to fully admit, not even to myself. After everything we’ve been through—the friendship we built, the secrets we shared—she’s become as dear to me as my twin.

“We’ve convinced Sebastian to return,” Revel continues when I remain silent. My body relaxes as my anger dissipates. “That’s all we needed to do. Everything else is just...uncertain.”

“Give us some credit. Convincing him has been a much larger task than we anticipated.” I sink back down beside him. “We’ll handle this next part with the same finesse.” Digging my elbow into his ribs, I flash all my teeth in a teasing smile.

He doesn’t think it’s funny, though. Instead, he takes another long drink, then sets the bottle down with too much force. It nearly shatters against the cement. “I didn’t think it would be this complicated.”

“No one ever does.” I reach out, letting my hand hover above his. I can’t touch him, not really, but sometimes I can make him feel a whisper of cold where my fingers pass through his skin. “We’re not just retrieving a wayward god. We’re asking Sebastian to abandon love.”

“For duty,” he insists, but there’s less conviction in his voice than before.

“And how has duty served us?” I gesture to my translucent form. “Look at me, Revel. Look at what duty has cost me. All this pain and death, and for what? Because Sebastian and I dared to question the Divine Council’s wisdom?”

He stares at me, and I see something shift in his expression. He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he reaches for the bottle again, but I drift my hand through his wrist, sending a shock of cold through him. He jerks back.

“Enough,” I say. “You won’t solve anything by drowning yourself in that.”

“I’m not trying to solve anything.” There’s a rawness to his voice that catches me off guard. “I’m trying to forget.”

“Forget what?”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and the intensity in his eyes makes me wish I could step back. “You.”

The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning I’m not ready to face. Meaning I’ve been avoiding all day as we worked with my brother and Jovie.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I whisper.

“I do.” He stands suddenly, unsteady on his feet. He’s closer to the edge than he should be, but there’s no fear in him. “That’s the problem, Sienna. I know exactly what I’m saying, and I shouldn’t be saying it at all.”

I rise to his level, hovering just before him. “Revel?—”

“No, let me finish.” He runs a hand through his hair, disheveled from the wind and his own restless fingers. “I’ve spent centuries in Aurelys, surrounded by everything beautiful and alive, and none of it— none of it—has ever made me feel the way I do when I’m with you.”

“Dead?” I darkly joke, biting my lip. I hate the warmth silently flooding me at his admission.

His head snaps toward me. “Not even close.”

My heart would be pounding if I still had one. “You hate me,” I remind him, grasping for the safety of our old animosity.

“I tried to.” A sad smile tugs at his lips. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

“This is the whiskey talking,” I excuse again, though we both know better.

“Maybe.” He steps closer to the edge, and for one terrifying moment, I think he might step off. But he just looks down at the street below. “Or maybe all of this has made me realize some things.”

“You know, you didn’t have to come here with me,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “You had everything to gain by staying in Aurelys.”

“That’s not how I saw it.” He turns back to me, swaying slightly. “I saw my best friend caught in a mortal trap. I saw someone I care about in danger of losing everything.”

“Someone you care about,” I repeat, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice.

“Yes.” The honesty in his eyes is unbearable. “Someone I’ve grown to care for. Deeply.”

I pull back slightly, creating distance. As if my body is repelled by such thoughts.

Who could care for me? No one . I am coldness and darkness and Death. I’m to be feared, not loved.

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?” He takes a step toward me, closing the gap I tried to create.

“I’ve seen you fight for your brother. I’ve seen you protect Jovie.

I’ve seen you defy the Divine Council and risk everything for what you believe is right.

” His voice drops lower. “I’ve seen the real you, Sienna, not just the Goddess of Death everyone fears. ”

“And who do you think that is?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

“Someone who pretends to be cold but burns hotter than anyone I’ve ever known.

” He reaches out as if to touch my face, his hand pressing against the illusion of my skin.

I feel the warmth of him, like sunlight through water.

“Someone who claims to serve duty but really serves love. Someone who’s endured more suffering than anyone should have to, and still hasn’t lost her compassion. ”

His words pierce through defenses I didn’t know I still had. “Stop,” I whisper.

But he doesn’t. “Someone beautiful and fierce and so damn stubborn.” He laughs softly. “Someone I can’t get out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”

“Revel, please.” My voice breaks. “This can’t happen. We can’t happen.”

“Life and Death,” he murmurs. “Always intertwined.”

“Always opposed,” I correct him.

“Are we?” He’s too close now, his eyes searching mine. “Or are we just two parts of the same cycle? Neither can exist without the other.”

I want to drift away, to escape this conversation and the feelings it’s stirring in me. Feelings I’ve spent millennia avoiding. As Goddess of Death, I’ve learned to keep others at a distance. Attachment only leads to pain.

But I stay, frozen by something stronger than fear.

“It wouldn’t work,” I say finally.

“Probably not.” His smile is sad. “But I can’t stop wondering what if.”

“What if what ?”