Don't Read in the Closet volume one Read Online Free Page B

sucked in a
shocked breath, only to find Achan smelt divine—a combination of sweet from the
sweet-ice and spicy from something that was simply Achan. As he pulled away,
their eyes met and held—making it feel like they were the only two immortals in
Godshome. But just as Dashiel went to move in and bring their lips together for
a proper kiss, Achan stepped back—blushing furiously.
    “Well that was—” Achan
cleared his throat. “Interesting.”
    “Achan—”
    “I should go,” Achan
continued—sounding overly bright and cheerful as he took several more steps
back. “First day and all that. Got to make a good impression.”
    “Wait! Achan! Will I see
you at the Spring Festival tomorrow?” Dashiel rushed to ask, desperate not to
let the other god escape again.
    Like flicking a switch,
Achan changed in an instant. As if playing from a script, the cocky,
self-assured god was back in the blink of an eye. “Well, that all depends.”
    “On?”
    “If I get a better
offer.”
    Dashiel gaped at him.
But before he could think—or sputter in indignation—the sound of tinkling bells
interrupted, calling Achan away to deliver more messages.
    “Oops! Saved by the
bell. Must go.”
    “Achan!” Achan
turned—flying backwards so he could look at Dashiel but still technically be
answering the summons. Smart godling. “Tell me I can pick you up tomorrow
evening to go to the Spring Festival.”
    Achan sighed
theatrically. “Oh all right. I wouldn’t want you pining away.”
    And with that, Achan
spun around and dashed off, laughing all the way. Strangely enough, Dashiel
felt like laughing too. It was only then he realised he didn’t know where Achan
lived. Damn! The little imp wasn’t going to make it easy on him it seemed. He’d
have to hunt down the information himself. Somehow, the thrill of the chase
made the pursuit all the sweeter.
    ****
    Hearing the steady beat
of rain against the roof, Dashiel sighed and sank further into his chair by the
fire. It looked like Jupiter’s Minions were out living it up with one last
winter storm before tomorrow’s big Spring Festival. After the day he’d had
trying to get the leaders of two rival crime syndicates to fall in love it
seemed like the perfect excuse to bar the door, ignore the whole Pantheon and unwind
with a good book and a glass of red.
    Unfortunately, it wasn’t
so easy to concentrate on the words or the Merlot. Achan’s image invaded his
thoughts time and again. Something about the god haunted him, especially since
their little impromptu meeting earlier in the day. Dashiel couldn’t shake the
feeling there was something else going on. Something more than just an
accidental re-acquaintance with an old friend that had turned out to be a real
hottie. One he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.
    A fist pounding on the
door snapped Dashiel out of his ruminations. The rain was still coming down in
buckets outside. Which didn’t mean much admittedly—The Pantheon was full of
gods and goddesses crazy enough to run around partying in weather like this.
But he couldn’t think why they’d be bothering him. He’d let it be known
centuries ago that rain depressed the crap out of him. He was more a spring and
summer sunshine kind of god.
    The hammering came
again, this time louder—more insistent.
    “I’m coming,” Dashiel grumbled,
pushing himself up out of his comfy chair and heading for the front door—all
the while thinking of interesting ways to torture and maim immortals that came
to the door in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm.
    He flung open the door
in disgust, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind,
and was stunned to find a very wet, very bedraggled looking Achan dripping on
the stoop.
    About a thousand miles
away from the teasing, mischievous god he’d been only a few hours ago, Achan
was a mess. His spikes were all gone now—his hair plastered to his head by the
rain in mangled disarray. His normal full