Psycho Gods: Enemies to Lovers Romance

HORSES

Oscitancy (noun): drowsiness.

I woke up to find drool on my face and Corvus sprawled atop me like I was a bed. If I’d been a smaller woman, I would have been crushed by his excessive weight.

Good thing I was big-boned.

I tried to push him off, but he just grumbled in his sleep and reached for me. He didn’t wake up. After ten minutes of kicking and pushing, he finally rolled off.

I sat up and studied him.

Sunlight filtered through the rich green leaves, and his skin shone like polished bronze.

He seemed younger.

Softer.

Gentler.

He didn’t seem like the same man that had stalked down dark corridors, setting people alight as he expertly wielded enchanted swords.

His features abruptly scrunched up, and he whimpered. He flinched and rolled on the blanket like he was under attack.

His arms flailed. He yelled out like he’d been stabbed.

I knelt on top of him.

Using all my strength, I grappled with his flailing limbs and crossed his arms over his chest. Then I pushed down.

“You’re okay,” I said as I exerted pressure. “The war is over.”

He panted harshly, sleepily fighting against my hold.

Finally, he breathed out—a long shuddering sigh.

He fell still.

I traced my fingers over his brow and whispered soft words as he resumed snoring peacefully.

Feeling exhausted, I climbed off him.

I fingered the ribbons in my curls. I’d found them in a craft drawer last night.

This morning, as I’d hyperventilated in front of the mirror, I’d placed dozens of them in my hair. Just because I could.

A rebellion against myself.

I was no longer the girl who liked pretty things, but I’d find her.

With my toes in the warm grass, I tipped my face towards the sunshine and stretched.

In this foreign realm, I was just a woman who could fly.

In a field.

With no plans.

This lifestyle was new for all of us. It would take time, but we’d heal.

Together.

Pipe hanging lazily from my lips, I turned and sprinted toward the back of the estate. I ran just because I could. No other reason.

My joints were still stiff, and my muscles were achy.

I didn’t care.

I ran to the stables and chose a pretty white horse. We trotted aimlessly around the estate.

A few minutes later, I crossed paths with the twins, who were also riding horses across the countryside. I blinked, unable to process the sight of them casually trotting like aristocrats.

We were living a dream within a dream.

Their heads were tilted together, and they were whispering to each other with forlorn expressions. Their features were harder, less boyish than they had been before the war.

We were all rougher.

When John looked up and saw me, his morose expression transformed into a playful grin. “Last one to the pond loses,” he shouted as I rode up.

He broke out in a fast gallop, and Luka grumbled but gave chase.

I grinned and spurned my horse forward.

Faster and faster.

Green and yellow blurred.

The warm breeze kissed my face, and I laughed with abandon as my stomach whooped with adrenaline.

Suddenly my horse reared back as a duck flapped its wings with fright.

I was thrown from my saddle.

For a long second, I lay on the ground, watching the fluffy clouds drift past as I struggled to breathe. My horse sprinted back toward the stables.

The twins shouted with worry.

I spread my arms wide in the grass.

“What the sun god do you think you’re doing?” Scorpius shouted from far away—he projected his voice like he did when he needed to be heard in the middle of battle. “Orion told me what just happened. What’s wrong with you idiots. She’s still healing!”

I looked up to find Orion and Scorpius stalking over the hill, still dressed in their silk pajamas.

The twins dismounted and ran to my side.

“Are you okay?” Luka asked as John checked me over like a mother hen. I slapped them away.

“I’m super fine,” I said, “I barely felt it.” My muscles screamed in protest as I tried to move.

Scorpius kept ranting as he approached. “What is wrong with you? Do you have any…” Blah, blah, blah. Orion looked at me with wide worried eyes.

The twins helped me to my feet.

I groaned as I flexed my aching joints, then I turned and screamed, “Run for it!” I ran across the hills clumsily, sore muscles protesting as I clutched my aching sides and laughed uncontrollably.

“What is wrong with you people?” Scorpius bellowed, and I looked back over my shoulder. Orion smiled beside him.

I laughed harder as I ran, the twins jogging up behind me. John was laughing with me. Luka shook his head like he was disappointed in us.

“It’s just a horse,” I yelled over my shoulder at Scorpius as I ran pathetically, unable to pick up much speed because I was laughing so hard. “I survived the ungodly. Of course—” I gasped “—I’m fine.”

Fine was a relative term.

If my laughter had a manic quality to it, that was none of my business.

My mental health was not my problem. It was everybody else’s.

“This is not funny,” Scorpius snarled as he gained on us, easily tracking the sound of our unsteady footsteps.

I turned around and flipped him off with both hands. “I’m flipping you off, Princess.”

Orion laughed at my nickname, and Scorpius scowled.

“He’s gaining on us,” Luka pointed out dryly as he jogged behind me.

John picked me up like I was a fair maiden. “I’ll save you!” he yelled dramatically and sprinted back toward the estate.

I vibrated in his arms as he picked up some serious speed, both of us laughing the entire time.

Over his shoulder, I was just able to make out Luka, Scorpius, and Orion gaping after us like we were idiots.

John ran us all the way to the kitchen.

He was a good man.

We feasted on rich jam, crackers, exotic cheeses, and colorful fruits until our stomachs hurt.

Time continued to meander forward lazily.

After eating and talking by the hearth for a few hours, the rest of the men joined us and we found cards. We went back outside to play on the lawn.

The sun set over the hills in shades of pink and orange.

Scorpius brought out a bottle of enchanted wine that was three centuries old, and we passed it around and drank greedily. Fuzzy yellow insects with rows of wings buzzed around us, drawn to the sweet alcohol.

Corvus joined us, and we all made fun of him for being so sleepy.

I didn’t mention his nightmare.

But when I leaned down to give him a hug, he trembled in my arms as he held me, like he was afraid the mirage would break and we’d be back in dimly lit corridors, chasing monsters.

Drunk on wine, one another, freedom, and the shock of surviving the war, we lay awake for hours and talked under the stars. Galaxies swirled across the sky in streaks of purple.

When there was a lull in conversation, Orion whispered cryptically, “I always suspected it.”

Everyone turned to him with confusion.

He pointed up to the sky and said, “The Ara constellation. It sits closest to Scorpius and belongs to the family of stars that includes Corvus.”

I inhaled sharply.

“Ara” was engraved in gold on the mittens he’d given me. Even in the middle of war, he’d been trying to tell me. My chest became toasty and warm.

The quiet king whispered reverently, “Ara sits so close to Scorpius that it, too, is directly opposite Orion.”

The men all made different noises of surprise, but Corvus stared at Orion with betrayal on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I thought the engraver had made a mistake.”

All of us laughed at his incredulous expression.

Orion shook his head wistfully. “I didn’t want her to feel pressured or think that we only wanted her because of fate.”

Corvus made an annoyed noise but didn’t argue.

“But we are fated,” Orion whispered. “We’re all destined for each other.” He turned to the twins. “You two included.”

John made a warm noise of contentment next to me.

My heartbeat faster.

Scorpius shifted so he sat closer to me, and he pushed John away so he could put his arm over my shoulder.

John scoffed, “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

He stopped talking as Scorpius draped his other arm around him, and he pulled us both close against him.

“I always knew these two were mine,” Scorpius said, and everyone snorted.

“Bullshit,” Corvus laughed while John tried, but failed, to get away. It was wrong, but it made me feel better to see someone else struggle.

I laughed and settled into the crook of Scorpius’s arm as we continued to stargaze.

Luka played with my hair, and Corvus readjusted so Orion was sprawled against his chest.

The night was quiet and full of new beginnings.

Hope was a fragile, delicate thing.

It unfurled around us.