Page 48 of Lovesick Gods (Lovesick #1)

Mal stared at his Netflix screen. Nothing sounded appealing. Tapping the remote against the cushion beside him like a metronome, he was clearly bored, and not the kind of bored that an old show or favorite movie could squelch.

There was nothing more to be done in preparation for the heist until the day of.

He could fiddle with his amplifier, but he already understood the inner workings of the cold field and didn’t want to risk throwing something off.

Besides, taking out his new toy to tinker with in his home could get risky if Danny showed up.

Not that Mal was holding out for Danny to come over.

Kid had ‘family dinner night’ to attend to and had only mentioned offhandedly that he might be able to stop by if things ended early.

Mal did not wait by the phone for some pretty young thing to give him the time of day.

If he didn’t see Danny tonight, he’d see him tomorrow.

After that, the heist might even prove to be a kind of foreplay between them.

Danny might enjoy the chance for something normal after all this mess with Ludgate, and Mal didn’t mind providing a challenge that neither of them could win or lose.

Zeus could still look like a hero saving the security guard from unknown tortures—even if he’d just be passed out on the floor. There could be a win-win in there somewhere as long as Mal still made off with the diamond and didn’t see any jail time. That was part of their deal.

But that was Monday. Today was Friday, and right now, Mal had no new messages from Danny and nothing else to occupy his time.

Maybe Big Trouble in Little China . It never failed to amuse Mal when Kurt Russell got knocked out by falling ceiling debris at the start of the final battle and only really contributed at the very end.

A gust of wind made him shiver.

Wait. Gust of wind?

Bolting off the couch, Mal whirled around to take in his apartment. No one. Everything in its place. The door was still closed, but—there. The rug. It was folded up as if someone had just walked over it.

“Sparky?” Mal called, relaxing marginally, but a little on edge since he couldn’t see Danny and wondered where he could be hiding.

Maybe he was feeling coy and had lightning jumped upstairs to undress and wait for Mal on the bed.

Mal didn’t care for surprises, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at a gift like that.

Nothing save the familiar creaks of his apartment replied, though the tingling sense that something was wrong , that someone was there, he just couldn’t see them, made him slowly circle the sofa while keeping an ever-watchful eye directed outward.

Another gust of wind. Mal whirled again—still nothing. Hands twitching, he called with more warning, “ Sparky , if you’re angling for me to reveal my gear, it’s not gonna happen. Not unless you’re looking for a fight.”

A faint, eerie giggle responded. “Spoilsport,” Danny’s voice came from behind him, but again, when Mal turned, there was nothing.

“I don’t want to fight,” Danny said, yet the tone of his voice seemed to say the opposite, coming from—right in front of Mal, damn it, why couldn’t he see him? “I want to play .”

Mal was already backing off, scanning every inch he could see, when that gust of wind came right at him and he found himself pinned to the wall beside the stairs.

He was fine, he was fine , he was fine . But his first instinct was to react with ice, rush forward, attack —or face the consequences.

No . This was Danny. Danny wasn’t holding him too tightly; he hadn’t slammed Mal back too hard; he didn’t know this bent the rules in ways that made Mal’s stomach twist. How could he?

Their initial encounters were made up of Mal grinning at him as they traded blows.

But that was different. That was theatrics.

That was planned and prepared for and expected.

When Mal was safe in his home with someone he should have been able to trust, he couldn’t…

He had to keep it separate. Otherwise, he’d turn this into a real fight or panic , and he couldn’t allow either.

But where was Danny? Mal could feel him, the kid’s gloved hands on his shoulders, his breath against Mal’s face, but he couldn’t see anything .

“Like the new suit?” All at once, the image before Mal rippled, revealing a body in black that he might not have recognized as Danny if not for the voice. Then came his mouth as he pulled up the mask just enough to free his lips.

Danny descended and Mal tensed. His brain was still playing catch-up.

He wanted to fight back or at least take a moment to breathe, to really see Danny so he could shrug off the tightness in his limbs that wasn’t going away.

He tried to turn his head out of the kiss, but Danny was too strong, pressing him into the wall and delving into his mouth with a possessive tongue.

Mal trembled—and not in the way he enjoyed trembling at Danny’s touch.

Breath catching, his hands grew colder as Danny held him in place. Mal felt helpless and he…he couldn’t be helpless like this, not like this.

Danny pulled back just as the panic started to ratchet up higher. “Got called in to try this baby out. Figured I’d share the spoils with you and have a little fun. Race you to the bedroom,” he whispered, and in a blink, he was gone again—black mask back in place, invisible.

Hugging the wall to ground him, Mal moved away from the stairs and kept his eyes peeled for another telling ripple.

“Danny?” he called, demanding of himself that his voice be firm, not shaking, not betraying the bile and fear in his throat.

Malcolm Cho was not afraid—he was never afraid, not anymore.

He needed to shed this feeling of being powerless.

It was just Danny. It was just Danny . “Not my kinda game, kid! Take off that mask and I can show you a much better—”

“Oh, no. It’s my turn again,” Danny’s voice startled Mal from behind, and then he felt hands loop around his waist. He shivered again. He needed to relax. He’d enjoyed this kind of power play with Danny before; he just wished he could see him . “I’ll make it good for you, Cho. You know I will.”

Mal , Mal wanted to correct him, but Danny always fell to old habits when he wasn’t thinking.

And if he wasn’t thinking, then he wasn’t listening.

That darkness in him; Mal had never been afraid of it, but seeing Danny in a sleek black suit seemed to personify those shadows behind his eyes, like armor he’d accepted as his skin.

Still shaking, feeling the chill building in the pit of his stomach, Mal tried to calm his nerves. He brought his hands up to cover Danny’s, reminding himself that he liked the way this body felt pressed up against him, he did . “Whatever you want, Sparky. Just let me—”

Free-falling, rollercoaster ride, gut-wrenching propulsion, and Mal was upstairs on the bed, an invisible body crawling over him, holding him down.

It wasn’t like his nightmares. It wasn’t like his nightmares .

“Danny—”

“Maybe I’ll keep the suit on for a while. Take you apart just. Like. This.”

No. Mal felt the ice fighting to escape his palms. All he could see above him was the ceiling and the skyline of Olympus City, but he could feel the weight straddling him, the hands pinning him to the bed.

“Better than a blindfold, right?”

No, no, no.

The rough hands on him were almost like skin, but Mal knew it was the suit. One pushed up beneath his long-sleeved T-shirt, dragging across his stomach and chest, making his gut clench, while the other hand pawed at the button of his jeans.

Danny’s touch was good. Danny’s touch made him feel alive. Danny’s touch was not like the touches Mal had been running from his entire life, that made his iron-clad control falter and risked turning his entire apartment into a freezer.

He couldn’t let his powers take over like that, couldn’t let his control slip, wouldn’t be like his father.

“Danny, listen to—”

Danny flipped him over so fast, Mal’s head spun. His shirt was hiked up as Danny started to pull his jeans down. His face pressed into the pillow, hands grasping for purchase, and he just…he couldn’t, he couldn’t .

“ Stop ,” he croaked, frost bleeding out of his hands onto the sheets.

Pulling his knees up beneath him, he tried to shift away from Danny as the kid yanked the jeans down his hips.

“Danny, stop,” he said louder, struggling to get away, elbowing Danny back, because he wasn’t listening and Mal couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe . “Danny, stop !”

Ice erupted from his hands and shot up his arms, coating him almost to his shoulders.

His bed became a frozen ruin beneath him as he fought tooth and nail to get away, not seeing, or thinking, or fully aware of anything until the unwanted presence of the body behind him was gone.

Scrambling off the bed onto his hands and knees, he gasped into the carpet.

Mal didn’t remember the last time it had been this bad.

He didn’t get like this anymore. He was always in control, always with an edge to him that would cut anyone who tried to bring him low.

But he trusted Danny. Felt safe in his home like he did in few other places.

And occasionally, too often with both Danny and the comfort of his home, he let his guard down, and that had its hazards.

It opened him up to too many old feelings of being trapped by a man who should have been the person he turned to when he was scared.

A battle was one thing, but nobody hurt Mal like this anymore. Nobody had power over him. Nobody—

“Mal…?” Danny’s voice was close beside him on the floor. Mal glanced aside and saw the black of Danny’s leg, the suit made visible again. “I thought you’d like it, like before. Are you…are you shaking?” A black-gloved hand came into view and Mal flinched.

“Don’t. I’m fine.”

“Mal, you’re not—”