Part of me wants to squeeze Dev’s hand to let him know how I feel, but Dev’s human, and I’m not entirely sure if it would hurt him or not. Once, I accidentally crushed a brick in my hand. I didn’t realize how fragile they were, and humans are way more breakable. I don’t know the correct pressure ratio for human-hand squeezing to ensure that I don’t hurt Dev.
He’s just so adorable. I love how the tips of his ears turn pink all the time. I have no idea why they do that. Most humans’ ears don’t seem to change color as often as his. Other people’s ears change if they are too cold or too hot, but Dev’s seem to constantly be the delicate shade of the roses he brought for the girls.
And, let’s not forget his grin—Dev’s got this cute shy smile that makes me simultaneously melt and want to taste him to see if he’s as sweet as he looks.
“Ready to go in?” Dev asks, interrupting my internal babbling as he scratches his beard with his free hand.
I lick my lips unconsciously. His brown eyes track their movement and the air is suddenly thick with something that I can’t pinpoint.
“S-s-sure,” I manage to stutter before collecting myself. “What kind of dinner are we having?”
“It’s a surprise,” he murmurs and my body tingles in awareness just like it does when someone uses magic nearby. Vibrations run underneath my skin.
Dev’s voice is a little husky, and he drops my hand to hold open the door to the building for me. I go through first but wait to follow him down the semi-dark stairwell, since he knows it better than I do.
At one point I trip and grab onto Dev for balance. My breath catches. His shirt is so soft under my fingertips. I run my fingers over his back, tracing the line of his spine for a second before I realize what I'm doing.
I blink and step back. "Sorry." I can't believe I just touched Dev without invitation. Home Depot was incredibly clear about the rules for human interaction. Touching humans without their explicit permission and invitation is sexual harassment. People hate it.
That’s why I try so hard not to touch him.
But sometimes, when I look at Dev, I just get so swept up in emotion that I forget. I'm uncertain if that's the deity in me—the god-like propensity to see something, want it, claim it—or if it's something else.
In either case, I know humans abhor it. I can count on one hand the number of times I've accidentally touched Dev. The first time I touched him was the time told him I was a part-god, the night I'd nearly yanked his shirt and dragged him down on top of me so we could enjoy carnal bliss under the stars in the parking lot of Home Depot.
I hadn’t had as much control over myself then. Or as much understanding of human ways, since Dad had basically raised me to tend his goats in Asgard. But I'd managed to restrain myself. I'd stopped. I'd uncurled my fingers and given him a gentle pat, backing away before the eternal, carnal part of me could debase and devalue him. I do the same now, backing up an entire step and holding up my palms in surrender. "I'm so, so sorry, Dev. I fell. I didn't mean to ..."
His cheeks heat. He must hate that I touched him like that. But he's too embarrassed to say.
My Dev's always been easily embarrassed. He's shy. It's one of my favorite things about him. Only humans are shy. Gods are so entitled, they think everyone wants to know their life story. They get offended when someone hasn't already heard of them.
Gods are ridiculous.
Except for Dad. He's mostly okay I guess. Especially when he's not surrounded by assholes. But most of the time, he lives in the middle of that sewage pit he calls family, breathing in their shit day in and day out until his nose is immune to the stench. Kind of like the people in El Paso, Texas.
Dev's from there. He's told me about them. Cow Town. The very air smells like cow patties. You can taste it on your tongue. He’s never wanted to go back.
I turn to focus back on Dev, who's already halfway down the stairs. I grab the hand rail and hurry to catch up, holding on tight so that if I fall, I'll at least face plant into the wall instead of accidentally assaulting Dev again.
I can't help but eye his ass once I've caught up though. Even though he's a total computer nerd since he left the Depot, he always goes to the gym. Five a.m. like clockwork.
I'm not a stalker.
Not completely.
Only sometimes.
Fine. I am.
But shut up. I'm just looking, not touching.
And the Depot didn't say anything about looking. Gods watch humans all the time. And I’m part god. I can resist some impulses. But not all. Not all. Not when it comes to Dev.
He unlocks his apartment door and gestures for me to go in first. When I walk in, I stop short.
The lights are dimmed. There are candles lit on his dual purpose gaming and dining table. He’s set out real silverware and plates. (We normally only use paper plates at his place because he doesn't have a dishwasher.) There's champagne chilling in a popcorn bucket full of ice. Two beer glasses stand next to it. His marijuana plants—his pride and joy—are nowhere to be found.
Hope fizzes in my belly, turning all my insides a bright frothy, exciting purple. It's like Dev has set off a bath bomb inside me. Those are my favorite human creations of all time. Their fizz and sizzle and purposelessness enchant me. I turn and look up at him, my throat suddenly tight and nervous. "What are we celebrating?"
Dev's face goes red and his hands fiddle inside his pockets. Something long, hard, and ... my excitement drops ... thin, presses against his jeans. No. No way. That's too thin. Relief floods me. No way that's a tiny cock. It's gotta be a pencil. Dev's playing with a pencil in his pocket. A sharp one based on the pointed tip.
He opens his mouth to speak, but just then my phone rings.
My phone only rings for emergencies.
Everyone literally only ever texts me.
I hold up a single finger and grab my phone out of my back pocket. “Hello?”
“Val?” a male voice on the cusp of crying calls out.
“Asteio!” I gasp. Son of Dionysus and a human, Asteio has been my friend since we were in nappies. He’s the one who helped me prove gods exist to Dev. He’s a half-goat man, possibly part of why we get along, because I know goats; he’s also a very understanding shoulder to cry on.
“Val! I’ve been arrested!”
4
Raiden
For the fifth time, I circle the jail grounds, searching for the ass-kisser who worships our boss, Ra. The last four times, the little brown-noser wasn’t at his post. What the hell? I round the corner to find that Khepri has finally returned to his station.
“Where were you?” I boom in a thunderous voice.
The Egyptian god barely spares me a look as he fiddles with his golden arm bracelet. He’s so arrogant, does he think he’s that far above me? I want to punch him in his perfect nose and bruise his face until his blue eyes are swollen shut.
“Ra asked me to do something for him. Something special,” he taunts.
I feel my lips twist into a grimace and lightning crackles under my skin. As the Japanese god of thunder, lightning, and storms, I control the weather. My people worship me to bring rain for crops. I am a fair god, but I have very little patience for humans and their foolish ways. I can stave off drought, but anger me, and I will drown you in a monsoon. Every time I interact with Khepri, this stupid asshole who gave up being a sun god in order to be a pathetic God of Shit, I want to start a hurricane.