Page 8 of Never Nix Up (The Arun Nixes #2)

8

Finn

I ’ve been fantasising about Hazel ever since I came to Wyrten Bridge. Respectfully, of course, but pretty much constantly. Sex with anyone else lost its appeal the moment she walked through the bakery door.

But she doesn’t know that.

So that statement was rude. Fucking rude.

“I apologise,” I say, sincerely. “I was just thinking out loud, and I don’t want you to think that just because there was a kiss, anything else is expected.”

Her face remains stony for a moment, before she relaxes into a smile. “I’m kind of winding you up. If it won’t put you in danger…” Hazel’s voice trails off and then we’re both blushing.

“Oh Gods, are we that sickeningly cute?” asks Chlo.

“Of course we are,” retorts Vi, and kisses Chlo sharply. “We’ll leave you two to talk then. We’ll be at mine if you need us.”

I’m not going to need anyone but Hazel, but I don’t say that. Instead I wait, slightly impatiently, for the two of them to leave. “Do we need to speak to the Goddess first?”

“No. Wait, maybe? I’m not sure.”

The last thing I want is to piss off some Goddess, especially if she holds some sort of sway over Hazel. “Let’s go speak to her. I want to start this off right.”

She doesn’t hold my hand as we walk along the riverside. Our fingers graze, and each glancing touch feels electric, but no holding hands.

If Hazel says it’s dangerous, then it’s dangerous. And as much as I want her, I’ve spent my life having to be careful with lovers out in public; this time just happens to be because I’m human, rather than because I’m gay. I know how to keep myself and my partner safe.

We walk up to the bridge, and I’m confused. Surely a river goddess would reside in the river? But instead we’re walking up to the old abandoned church, and Hazel is knocking on the door.

I don’t really watch horror films, not my thing, but when the door creaks open, I can see why people run screaming from a haunted mansion. It’s creepy as fuck.

“After you,” I say, and Hazel looks as if she wants to say something, but instead steps in and I guess this is where I meet a Goddess.

The church looks nothing like I expect it to. Plants wind themselves around every column, which are painted with murals that take my breath away. That’s Hazel’s work, I know it. And there is an altar, only it’s overflowing with water.

“Bringing a mortal to visit Hazel, how quaint.” The voice reverberates around the church, and I can hear the river in it. That should be impossible, I know, but it’s distinctly there. The sound of water rushing along on its journey to the sea.

I blink and find myself looking down, instead of up.

“This is Finn, my Goddess.” Hazel is herself and not herself. There’s a formality in the way she speaks that I recognise from her dealings with her clients. She’s never like that around me, however quiet or shy she may be.

“Finn.” She fills the syllable with a million questions.

“Yes, that’s me.” I step forward awkwardly, and speak out into the church, still not looking at her. It’s as if there’s a soft blue light, just to the right of me, and the longer it remains there, the more the pressure in my head builds. “I want to date Hazel, and she explained the whole acolyte thing. So rather than risk incurring wrath, I thought best to come and speak to you myself.”

“You are amusing.”

I’m not entirely certain how to take that, but I guess that anything that doesn’t end with indescribable anger is fine by me.

“You wish to court Hazel?”

“I wish to do a bit more than that,” I reply, before I can stop myself. And then, because I might as well continue now that I’ve started, “The othersChlo and Visaid something about sex magic and energy, and I don’t have a problem with you siphoning off energy that’s going to be out there in the universe anyway.”

When she next speaks, it’s directly into my ear and I almost jump out of my skin. “You will offer up your lovemaking as an oblation?”

I can feel sweat beading on my brow and I don’t know whether it’s because she’s a river goddess, or whether it’s because I’m terrified. “Not exactly? Our… lovemaking is for us, and us alone. It’s a private and personal thing. But the energy it generates? That’s yours to take.”

And then she is standing in front of me and she is shapeless and formless and simultaneously all flowing curves bound up in… well. I’m not sure there’s a word for it. Trisantona leans forward and presses her lips to my forehead.

Adult women are 55% water, and I feel every single molecule of it as the river goddess’s lips touch my skin, my whole body thrumming with energy. The moment she steps back, I remember how to breathe again.

“I have bestowed my blessing upon you,” she says, and then, turning to look at Hazel, adds, “She is protected.”

“Thank you, my Goddess,” says Hazel, and I hear the relief in her voice.

But as we leave the churchTrisantona’s templethe Goddess whispers a terrible threat in my ear, and I am at least grateful that Hazel has such a fearsome protector, even crossing her would end me.