28 Greggles

Bel

Bel blocked Greg’s blade—barely—with a clang that jarred up his arm, and shoved him back.

“You’re distracted,” Greg said coolly.

“Figured I’d give you a sporting chance this time.”

“Ha.” Greg flipped his blade in his hand, red eyes seeing everything. “Is this about the mortal?”

“ Lily .”

“Lily. The mortal soul. Or is it the kid? Both?”

Something in Greg’s tone had Bel’s temper flaring. He took hold of it, controlling it, understanding it, thinking around it. He exhaled, settling into a stance that was as familiar to him as walking.

“Worried about me?”

“Usually.” Greg feinted left before striking right, and their conversation paused as they exchanged a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

“She makes you happy.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m sensing you have something else to say about that.”

“I told you that if you decided to go for it, I’d support you.” Greg wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. “And I do.”

“But?”

“Not a ‘but’ exactly. Have you had the conversation about reincarnation yet?”

Bel sheathed his blade and reached for the bottle of water resting on a nearby rock. “We have.”

Greg waited silently.

Bel finished his drink, clearing his throat and hoping Greg would think it was because of the water. “She’s going to go back someday.”

Greg’s brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face. Written in tiny script, little micro expressions Bel had gotten very good at reading over the years, but written all over his face, nonetheless.

“I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?” Bel growled, patience fraying.

“She is going to break your heart,” Greg said. “Why risk that? Why get left behind again? Is this some kind of…self-punishment for what happened before?”

Bel flexed his hand, watching the muscles and tendons play under his dusky purple skin. His coloring had always favored his mother, but his build was just like his father. They had the same hands. Now, anyway. He remembered being a child—wasn’t that a long time ago—and trying to hold his father’s sword, which had been taller than he’d was at the time. His father’s powerful hands had been steady and so much larger than his own as he’d helped Bel grasp the hilt.

He relaxed his hand, letting it drop. “I’m well aware that it’ll hurt like fuck when she leaves. Things that end hurt, but they’re all the more precious because they end. Mortals’ whole lives are so short, and yet they pack so much into them. They don’t take partners and spend the whole time thinking about how much it will hurt when it ends. I want to be happy with her and with Sharkie. For however long I can.”

Greg sheathed his blade and folded his arms, locking that entirely too perceptive gaze on Bel, who folded his own arms and stared back.

“Okay,” Greg said slowly.

Bel waited.

And waited.

His tail lashed.

“And?”

The moment stretched. A cluster of demons glanced at them as they passed by. Bel and Greg ignored them.

“Don’t hit me.”

Bel kept his mouth shut, tension shooting through his body. Greg had said nothing about throwing something at him. A shoe maybe. Perhaps a knife if what Greg had to say was spectacularly stupid and out of character.

Fucking bring it, Greggles.

“Does she know?”

“For fuck’s sake, Greg, know what ?”

“Know about your history of getting left behind ? Because if she does and she still entered a relationship with you, then she’s incredibly selfish—”

Bel snarled.

“But if she doesn’t, then I don’t understand. I thought you valued communication and honesty in relationships?”

“I do, but telling her would make me feel like a manipulative asshole. An honest manipulative asshole, but a manipulative asshole. No matter how I phrase it, it would sound like I was trying to guilt her into staying. Lily’s just as perceptive as you are. She’d see right through me.”

Greg frowned. “So tell her that you don’t want to guilt her into staying. If she is as perceptive as you say, and you are as serious about her as I think you are, eventually she’ll start asking questions about certain aspects of your life. Lily isn’t stupid, and she’s got a backbone made of titanium. Plus, she’s nicer than I am.”

“Well, she’s certainly a better kisser than you are,” Bel said loftily, trying to lighten the mood.

“It was one time , and I was under duress. Hardly my finest work. I don’t know what your excuse is.” Greg smirked.

“I rocked your little beanpole emo world.”

“You did not.” Greg tilted his head, amusement fading. “Tell her. You might get lucky. Metaphorically anyway. Maybe someday she’ll take pity on you, and you’ll finally get to second base—do not bring my mother into this.”

Bel shut his mouth and flipped him off.

Greg shook his head, drawing his long knife and spinning the handle in his palm a few times. “I’m happy for you. You’ve been different in a good way. Even if you’ll be utterly useless on trivia night.”

“What? The categories don’t look too bad. Why would I be useless?” Bel drew his own blade and rolled his shoulder, careful with it after his minor injury. It seemed fine.

“Not just you in particular, but a significant portion of the population, you included. Not me. Remember the Night of Many Distractions around nine years ago?”

Bel laughed. Half of the partners had been drooling messes, all trivial knowledge lost to distraction as their beloveds rocked up in their finest, most risqué, most seductive outfits.

From the time his wife walked in with her team of seductresses, Hades hadn’t spoken a single word. Just stared at his wife before hauling her out the door the moment the results had been read. Their resulting daughter was adorable.

Asmodeus had dropped his drink and only made carnal observations that were completely unrelated to any of the questions they’d been supposed to answer.

What animal breathes through its butt?

“Sariah’s butt looks amazing in that skirt.”

The correct answer had been “a turtle.”

In a bingo game, what number is represented by the phrase “two little ducks?”

“Huh? What about ducks? I’ll duck down to get Sariah to ride my face.”

The correct answer had been “22.”

Bel and Greg had been two of the few single members of their team that night and had been laughing too hard to get upset about losing so badly. Not a single team got a perfect score that night. The lines for the bathroom had been hysterically long and full of couples or groups.

“I seemed to handle it just fine last time.”

“You didn’t have someone you were half in love with last time.”

It might be more than half…

What would Lily wear? Fuck, what would Lily not be wearing?

They hadn’t progressed much beyond their kiss on the couch; no heated make-out sessions for them. Yet. Their pace had been restricted more by lack of opportunity than by lack of want. They’d both been busy, and Sharkie was wonderful and dear to his heart…but had a tendency to never knock and just appear places. Their stolen touches had just been fuel for the fire, adding detail to his fantasies bit by bit. The satiny feel of the sensitive skin on her neck. The curves of her body next to his.

He shifted his feet.

“I think I’ll be able to control myself,” Bel said, mostly to convince himself.

Greg shot him a pitying look right before he lunged forward, and Bel lost himself in the motions of sparring.