Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,81
up, despite my several protests about it all being embarrassing.
"You were running away from Killian like he decided to stab you or something," he chuckles before his face darkens, and he takes a long sip of his drink that smells like some pretty strong alcohol. "I thought you guys looked pretty close before that happened." I try to ignore the jealous comment, knowing that Storm isn’t going to make me feel bad for anything with Killian. Storm doesn’t own me, nor has he made a move to suggest he wants to be more than a friend. I also know literally nothing about him, other than what everyone else in this prison knows. As much as I don’t like to admit it, Vivian was right in some ways. Storm is a closed book and keeps everything locked away tight.
"Hand that over," I say, holding my hand out for the bottle, knowing that I could use a drink. Storm shrugs before giving me it, and I take a long sip, the unfamiliar liquid burning my throat almost instantly. I cough a few times, thinking the closest thing I've tasted to this is whiskey, before I can even speak. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"Honestly? Who knows?" he tells me. That isn't concerning at all. "A pleasure god who lives in here makes his own drinks, and he gave me that a while ago, telling me it would 'chill me out'."
"Does it?" I ask with a little chuckle as I rest back on the sofa, well aware that at some point, either Storm or I have moved closer to each other. Our legs are now pressed tightly together.
"I wish," Storm replies as I take another sip and hand him the bottle back, watching as he takes a long drink. "Nothing can erase the past and make everything less stressful. Not even this stuff." I’m surprised by his comment, because that is the first time I’ve heard him comment on anything to do with his past.
"We know each other now," I start off as he hands me the bottle back, and I drink some for bravery. "Will you tell me what kind of god you are?" I ask, reminding him of the first time I asked, and he asked me a question right back. What happened with me isn’t a secret though, so I was just teasing him, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. The last few weeks, Storm has asked a load of questions about my past and my life before here, but he never asked about what I did to get here. Storm leans back, placing his arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers finding their way into my hair.
"If you will do something for me, then yes," he replies and moves his gaze from me to my hair as he gently twirls the curls around. “You have exquisite hair, you know that?” I can only nod, words escaping me.
"What do you want?" I eventually ask him, and the question seems to linger between us as he looks down at me, facing me as he takes the bottle back, bringing it to his lips. I never knew it could be sensual to watch a guy take a long drink, but holy gods, Storm makes it borderline erotic. Not that I'd tell him that. I'm pretty sure he knows it anyway from the smirk on his lips.
"A lot of things, Karma, but this time, I want you to be my date to a party next weekend," he tells me. “We celebrate the changing of the seasons, the way my parents once did many years back. Next weekend, we change from autumn to winter.” Even though he is asking me out on a date—which god, makes me nervous and happy at the same time—he sounds sad. I just wish I could understand him more to know why it does. I know he is old, like really old, but it sometimes feels like he has been in a trance for a long time. Just frozen in this prison, waiting forever to escape. Then he looks at me, and somewhere in his gaze, I see something familiar.
"You are asking me out on a date? Again?" I ask with a cheeky smile. “Is there any chance of getting stopped by your ex-girlfriend on this one? Not that I’m saying yes.”
"That tour wasn't a date, I was teasing you. I want a real date," he responds, tilting his lips up. I’ve cheered him up a