Tributes

Chapter Fifty-Four

What was he supposed to do now?

Jake checked the window and confirmed it was night before ducking into one of the side rooms that used to be for people to prepare to present themselves to the Wolf God. Judging from the thick layer of dust in it, it hadn't been used in a long time. The portrait of Rose, dolled up in her finest, judged him as he paced in the space, biting his thumbnail as he tried to think of a sensible thing to do. He was a father, he was an adult, why couldn't he think?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but clutched his nose to stop himself from sneezing as a waft of dust blew up in his face. This was not good. He'd broken his side of the rules of the promise; he couldn't go home and pretend that he hadn't. He also didn't have anywhere to wait until morning.

Well, he did.

Jake had a room in the tribute tower.

Tyreol's gift to every immortal tribute was a permanent place to crash in the castle that was theirs. It was something that the next clutch of souls would not steal away. Going to the tribute tower involved going past Tyreol's bedroom.

He'd have to try to sneak past the Wolf God. Tyreol would feel his presence. Teleporting to the castle wouldn't be enough to wake the god, but creeping past his door would. Jake already knew Tyreol was asleep because the wolf god's presence in the castle was calm. If he walked past it, there was no way the god wouldn't wake up if he went that close to him.

Was that so bad? He was here to see Tyreol.

That didn't mean he didn't want his first interaction with the god to be while the god was sleepy, and potentially half naked. He planned it, dressed, and with an audience. 

This was not helping. Maybe if he could find a servant, they'd point him to some guest rooms he could use? They used to have visitors before, though the state of this room suggested maybe that wasn't the case anymore. He couldn't stay here all night. 

It was a better plan than hiding in a room with his older sister's judgmental glare.

"Jake?" Standing in his nightclothes, Helian stood in the doorway, clutching the frame with his hair out of place and with a man who looked equally dishevelled beside him. His eyes glowed in the dark with an almost cat-like glare. "I thought I smelled your soul."

"Evening, Helian. I can tell this is a bad time, so I'll just," Jake trailed off. He didn't know what he was going to do. 

Heilan took the answer off him as fae magic entrapped his legs, and Heilan's hair flicked angrily, and the glow of his eyes intensified. "Move and I'll transport you straight to Master," Helian threatened, stalking over, his movements catlike as he locked on to his prey.  

Maybe coming home was a bad idea. Maybe he wasn't welcome anymore. 

Slender but strong arms yanked around him, and his face pressed against a bony shoulder. The sheer tightness in the faeblood's grip made Jake's bones creak. His next breath was wetter than he liked to admit, and he clutched back, the smell of Heilan's perfume nostalgic and familiar. He was home. People were angry with him, but he was home. 

"Welcome home, Jake." 

Jake wanted to respond, but his chest tightened. His eyes burned closed, and he willed himself not to humiliate himself and fall apart completely. He regretted his words almost as soon as he stormed from Tyreol. His love had disapproved too, for all Tyreol did not want them together. A God would not break their word. Few could. 

It was a long hug, but it settled Jake's feet and stopped his heart from spinning in figure eights. Helian had him, and soon, Tyreol would, too. 

Helian pulled away slowly, studying Jake's face and tracing his thumbs over Jake's cheekbones. Jake didn't have an androgynous face like many of the favourites, instead having an oval face with sharp features. Helian clicked his tongue as he found the scar on Jake's ear where his wedding earring had hung. He didn't heal it, and Jake loved him for it.