Genesis [malexmale]

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

I left Zeus to his devices that night, staying only for a few minutes to make sure I hadn't actually scarred him for life. He'd angrily finished off his bottle of Jack and stormed off to his room, telling me not to come to his home tomorrow, which I denied, reminding him that he had asked for my help, not the other way around.

After a moment of silence and a muttered curse, Zeus told me he'd see me tomorrow and slammed his door shut in my face.

Satisfied with today's turn of events, I returned to Hell, appearing in the foyer of the palace. The smell of fresh herbs wafted through the vents from the kitchen above, a delicious combination of sage, rosemary, and a hint of basil. I made my way down the hallway toward the stairs, turning the corner to head up when I smacked into a body of rock hard muscles.

For an instant, I was thrown back in time. I remembered the feel of that body, the rock hard muscles, the rippling abs, the warm caramel skin stretched tight over a body honed for raw masculine power. Midnight black hair soft as a feather, eyes the color of the edge of the sky, so blue and so pure. I felt those soft lips touch my lips, my forehead... my nose. My eyelids. My cheeks.

I swallowed the memory back quickly and retreated several steps, putting a safe distance between me and Xiphrus, who had been coming down the stairs. He pulled up short at the sight of me as he stood on the last step of the stairs, and I found myself comparing the way he stood there on those stairs to the time he'd stood on the stairs and accused me of being the problem, his words treasonous against the Source.

Back then, he'd been so fueled by anger and hurt, breathing hard and sweating, his torso bare to my eyes, his legs clothed in black pants. Those blue eyes had been a furious storm of emotions.

Now, he stood calm and collected, expression emotionless, save for the way those pale blue eyes became a stormy blue, as if the sight of me caused him inner turmoil that he could not express, or truly feel given the curse placed upon him in the process of his sealing. Now, he wore a pair of black jeans and a basic black v-neck under a long dark gray wool coat, a pair of buckled shitkickers finishing off his attire.

"Joxeia," he greeted me softly. His voice sent chills through me, crept through my skin like a million worms wriggling to escape. I narrowed my eyes.

"That is not my name anymore," I reminded him coldly. Xiphrus's eyes flashed orange to stormy blue.

"I will not call you St. John," he answered monotonously, making me frown, "It is not your real name and it does not suit you." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He could call me whatever he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that I didn't want to talk to him, or hear him say any name in regards to myself. Even more revolting was that he thought he could judge me, claiming my new name did not suit me. What did he know?

I struggled to grasp the anger that was threatening to lash out. I didn't want to lash out, didn't want to give him the satisfaction in seeing that he could rile me up.

And logically, I knew I couldn't blame Xiphrus. It really wasn't his fault that he fell in love with Atlan. Atlan had seen a young, naive, and innocent person and twisted him around his finger. He'd turned Xiphrus against all of us, had broken his innocence, tainted it, ruined it. Xiphrus was simply... too easily influenced. I knew that. And Xiphrus had apologized in the end. Remembering that moment when he'd leaned down to kiss me and whisper an apology to me and Geara choked me up. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, meeting Xiphrus's eyes.

Cold. Empty. Emotionless.

Because he couldn't be trusted; for all we knew, he could run back to Atlan as soon as he felt something again. His love could return. And even if it didn't, Atlan could just manipulate him again.