Ascension - Book Eight - Man x Man

Chapter 120 (M)

We sleep lightly, though the shift often leaves Verando exhausted, I could feel him resting fitfully in my arms. My gaze struggled to leave the cuff, why had Fenrir wanted to take it? My reflection peers back at me in the morning light, glinting off the solid gold of the large band. A gift from a god, but the god's don't give gifts? 

Slipping out of bed, I travel out of our bedroom in the small suite of the hotel and move over to the desk that houses a laptop. Verando had attempted to become more versed in technology but at the end of it all, it tended to be me who had the patience for the typing that came with computers. 

I turn it on, move over to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and bury my nose in the collar of my borrowed shirt. The scent of my husband was less potent to me, but still delicious, enough to stir the deep connection our wolves had for each other, but I could feel that my 'heat' cycle was finally over. 

Sitting in the chair, I cross my legs as I feel the chill creeping through my body. A deep frost from using last night, my fingertips still dark from the lack of protection against the ice. I open and close my hand, cursing as I type quietly. 

I couldn't do both, perhaps. My wolf needed the warmth to be content, but my body had to maintain a chill to form ice, leaving me vulnerable to frostbite though my healing from my wolf side probably saved me from stronger repercussions. 

Turning my attention to my task, I type in a quick search for the Egyptian gods, attempting to formally educate myself in the ins and outs of what I was dealing with. Fenrir would have done better to warn me not to trust a cat than to throw the virtue of gods back into my face. We'd dealt with many selfish deities, what was one more if they actually wanted to help? 

Resting my elbow on the desk, I sacrifice my posture to lean my chin into my palm with a pathetic sigh of defeat. "Where are the good ones?" I mutter. 

There was supposed to be balance, why were we always finding the cruelty of these upper beings? Yet, thinking back, I guess we were also surrounded by the difficulty that surrounded creating such a creature. 

We had one, our own slice of perfection, in Darrius. Verando, himself, was the product of multiple attempts at a 'good' side. 

All research on Bastet came with its ups and downs, romanticized versions of a more intimidating Goddess coupled with bouts of fertility, women, and healing. 

The Lady of Dread, the Lady of Slaughter, alongside stories of the desire others had for her and the beauty she possessed. I close the laptop with a heavy exhale, smelling that my coffee was ready, I couldn't go any further into this without a guide as to what to believe, I'd have to look into this further when I could go to a library. While I was getting used to these internet pages, books that could be in my hands were something I felt more comfortable with. 

"What's wrong?" Verando's voice makes me jump.

I straighten, feeling his warm hands resting on my shoulders as I unfold myself from my defeated posture. Kissing his wrist, I place my hand over his, smiling at the warmth radiating off of him that was so familiar from those first nights together. He bends, folding his arms over my shoulder to hug me and kiss my cheek. 

"You're freezing."

"A little repercussion for using yesterday." Showing him my fingers, he frowns and I quickly place my hand back in my lap. "It's fine, I'm recovering quickly. I was just making coffee, you hardly slept last night so I didn't want to wake you."

Leaving me, he steps stiffly into the kitchen and I watch as he opens a bottle of pills and swallows down a handful with a glass of water. We were both worse for wear, sore, tired, and worn thin from the stress of managing this all. Standing, I tread across the rooms as the sleeves of the pullover unravel to cover my hands with their length. My arms wrap around his midsection, pressing my cheek against his back.