Page 11 of Take Two (Valleywood: Season Three)
Chapter 11
Phobos
I stood there stunned for a moment after Declan’s father stormed out. I couldn’t wrap my head around everything that had happened in the past five minutes. From first kiss to physical assault, all in the blink of an eye. My heart pounded hard in my chest, echoing in my head where he’d headbutted me. I lifted a hand to the source of the throbbing.
“Don’t touch it,” Declan scolded, taking me by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I followed blindly, unaware of my surroundings as he unlocked a door behind the bar beside his office, grabbing the first-aid kit from behind the counter. We headed up a dark narrow stairwell, single-file, the wood creaking under our feet, his fingers still entwined with mine like he didn’t want to let go. I could feel the trickle of blood down the bridge of my nose and my cheek. We shucked our jackets quickly, leaving them on hooks at the door, before I let him lead me through his shadowy apartment. I didn’t have a chance to check it out before I was being ushered into a tiny bathroom.
Declan flicked the single bulb on overhead, the yellow light glaring off the pale blue tiles. “Sit,” he instructed, pointing at the closed toilet seat. The plastic groaned a little at my weight, but if I broke it, I would buy him a new one. Hell, I would buy him a whole new apartment. This one was too small, too dark and old, the grout around the tub cracked and gray, though spotlessly clean.
Sighing, Declan set the first-aid kit on the narrow counter and flipped it open. “I’m sorry about my father. He’s…” He didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. “But you shouldn’t have antagonized him. I know how to take care of myself.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes, so I reached out and took his hand, pulling him over until he was standing between my knees. “I don’t doubt your abilities for a second, but you shouldn’t have to protect yourself from your own father. You know that, right?”
I hated how sad his eyes were, how exhaustion seemed to weigh him down. “In an ideal world, maybe, but that’s not the kind of father he is.”
My own father was the literal god of war, and as hard as he’d been on me and Deimos, never once had he threatened us or tried to force us to do his bidding. This was messed up.
From his spot between my legs, Declan grabbed a packet of sterile gauze and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. The scent of it seared my nostrils as he soaked the gauze pad in it and brought it to my forehead.
He took my face gently in his strong hand and tipped it up, dabbing at the wound. “You were such a fool to go head to head with him—literally,” he said, snorting at his accidental joke.
I hissed and tried to draw back from the stinging pain. “Ow, that hurts,” I blurted, surprised.
Declan arched a brow at me. “Seriously? This is barely more than a scratch. I’ve had worse from shaving. You’d think you’ve never been injured before.”
“Well… I haven’t,” I admitted reluctantly.
“How is that possible?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, his hair falling forward over his face as he shook his head. “Does this have to do with the whole… glowing-eyes thing? You want to explain what that was? I thought for sure my dad was going to beat you to a pulp, but then he just seemed to give up. What did you do?”
Gods weren’t really supposed to go around telling mortals about us, but technically, I’d already revealed it all when I was drunk. And since I wasn’t exactly one of them anymore—not to mention there was something a little extra about him too—I decided to throw caution to the wind.
I winced again as he held me firmly in place and went back to tending to my injury, my skin feeling tender and cool as the alcohol dried. “Remember that night I was first here and had a little too much to drink?”
He huffed a laugh. “You mean the time you got trashed, bragged about wearing tights, and then hit on me, and I had to throw you out? Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Smartass,” I mumbled. “As I was saying, that night, everything I told you, well, it was all true. I was literally a superhero, like flying in to save the day, super strength, the whole shebang. I am a god of fear—or was , rather. That’s a whole other story, involving me trading my powers for freedom, but that doesn’t really matter except to say I’m not sure how well it’s sticking. The glowing eyes, the creeping, spine-tingling terror… yeah, that was just a small taste of what my powers used to be. And so yeah, I’ve never actually bled before. Can’t say I’m a fan.”
Declan’s hand had stilled, hovering in the air between us. He was frowning in thought. “Huh. I thought that was just drunk rambling.” Wow, he’d accepted that pretty easily. “Your brother and sister?”
“Gods,” I confirmed, nodding.
“Your parents too? When you introduced them as Ares and Aphrodite, those weren’t just hippie names from the sixties?”
“Also gods.” I nodded, though I’d thought the answer was pretty obvious.
“That actually explains a lot. Like that couple I’d overheard talking about their new baby, calling him their little demigod.” His eyes widened. “Wait, so what about those actors, Anubis or Horus Ahket? Holy shit, or Apollo Kesios?!”
“Okay, okay, no need to make me feel worse about my failed attempt at acting,” I said with a grimace. “Some gods can make it work.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that the gods are real and they live among us.” I reached for my forehead, since he seemed to be done with it, but he swatted my hand aside. “I said don’t touch. If you’re not a god anymore, who knows if you can get an infection.”
“And what about you?” I asked, setting my hands tentatively on his hips. “What was with the growling and the flashing eyes, your dad’s strength? There’s no way you’re entirely human either.”
He pursed his lips but didn’t immediately brush me off. “I’m not really supposed to tell people either, but you’re actually… kind of a special case. So, I can turn into a wolf.”
“Oh, you’re a shifter. Sure, that makes sense.”
“Y-you—you’ve heard of shifters? Oh. I mean, of course you have, because you’re sort of a part of the paranormal community already.”
I laughed at his reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for the big reveal to be so anticlimactic. Should I act more awed?” I widened my eyes to comical size, my mouth a wide O. “Woooooow! That’s so cool!” I gushed with as much fake enthusiasm as I could.
Declan laughed, a rich throaty sound that had my cock perking up, a reminder of where we’d been before his dad had so rudely interrupted us. He slapped my chest lightly. “It’s no wonder you’re not getting any acting jobs. You’re horrible!”
I let out a little playful growl and wrapped my arms around him to grab handfuls of his ass cheeks, bringing his flush with me, my face landing squarely in his chest. “Don’t tease the former god. I might not be able to fly anymore, but I still have the power to torture you mercilessly.” I punctuated my point by nipping at his nipple that was poking out from his t-shirt, sucking on him through the fabric.
Now it was his turn to hiss, and his fingers carded through my hair, holding me in place. “It’s not nice to tease,” he said, his voice containing both an invitation and a promise for more if I should choose to accept. “You don’t have a concussion, right?”
Honestly, I had no idea. I did feel a little off, kind of overheated and off-center, but it wasn’t anything that would stop me from having some fun. “I’m so good,” I promised, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him back down for a kiss. Maybe it was the knock to my head, but it seemed like this kiss was even better this time around. Part of my brain was still lingering on something he’d said about me being a special case for being let in on his shifter secret, but I wasn’t about to stop what we were doing to ask. Not when we’d already been interrupted once. With my luck, his dad would come knocking for round two.
I stood off the toilet—because yeah, the bathroom was not a good place for sexy times, especially not our first—and grabbed Declan by the backs of the thighs to hoist him off his feet. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the whole lack of godly strength thing, and instead of the swoonworthy act of sweeping him off his feet, I staggered under his solid weight and nearly toppled us both off our feet and straight into the towel rack.
“Oops, sorry,” I mumbled, catching him with an arm around the waist.
“It’s okay, I can walk,” he said, laughing.
“No, I got this,” I promised, trying again. This time, he helped out by wrapping his arms and legs around me like a koala, and with my legs quivering, I carried Declan toward the bed.