"The way you just looked at me could never be described as nothing. I won't forget it, that's for sure," Killian responds.
"Are you always this charming and romantic?" I ask him.
"Are you always this good at avoiding everything?" he counters, but he doesn't wait for an answer as he picks one of the tea bags up. "Yorkshire tea, the best kind. I'm a big tea fan."
"I don't mind a cup of tea, but I'm more a peanut butter fan. You can have the tea if you want," I offer, and he looks down at me with a surprised smile.
"You don't have to give me them," he tells me.
"I want to, honestly. Though that French toast looks awesome and would be a great thank you trade," I tell him, accidently sweeping my hand across his muscular arm. Yep, that was a total accident alright.
"Alright, but I was making the house breakfast anyway," he tells me, grinning as he offers me a plate to hold and slides the toast off the pan onto it. I find a knife and cover my toast in peanut butter before going to sit at the table.
"You're up early anyway. I didn't have you down as a morning person," he says as he carries on cooking.
"I'm not, are you?" I ask, avoiding the reason I'm up early.
"I like mornings, call me weird. There is something about watching the sunrise and loving the pure silence...but then I realised this morning, you can't see the sunrise in here. There is something deeply fucked up about that," he mutters, leaving me a little lost for what to say to him. "At least it is quiet though."
"So how long have you been a god of justice? Are the rumours true that you are immortal while in service?" I ask him, because why not? I've heard a million rumours about the famous gods of justice, and I'm curious what is true.
"Since our father was killed by the higher gods about fifty years ago...and yes, we became immortal from the moment we inherited his powers," he explains to me.
"What do you mean he was killed?" I ask.
"Have you not heard the rumour about the curse of justice?" he asks as he continues cooking, and I try to rack my brain about why that sounds familiar, but nothing comes to mind. When I don't answer, he looks back to see my blank face, and he sighs. "The powers of justice are a strong thing to control, and they are similar to the higher gods’ powers. So, one of my ancestors grew too powerful, too old and lost all control. He attacked the higher gods, and they had no choice but to kill him and then pass a law called the curse of justice."
"Why would he attack them? What is the curse of justice?" I ask, captivated by his story, though he doesn't look at me much as he talks.
"The curse of justice is a law that states when a god of justice turns a hundred years old, they must be killed, and their child will take on the powers for the next hundred years," he explains to me.
"That's insane. I'm so sorry they killed your father," I whisper. “They gave you a death sentence because of your powers.”
"He wasn't a good father to us, so don't worry," Killian replies.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask him.
"My father didn't want anyone to be a new god of justice, and he never meant to get my mum pregnant. She died in childbirth, he was horrified he had twins. As a result, we were brought up in foster homes, not told we were gods until the day my father was killed," he explains to me. “As kids, we saw magical things no one else did and never had anyone to explain it to us. It wasn’t easy.”
"Sounds like the higher gods are still lording it up," Storm coldly remarks, and my head shoots to see him leaning against the door, biting into an apple. "Also, I overheard your conversation. There is one part of the prison that gets natural light, and you can see the sunrise. It's full of apple, lemon and orange trees. I will show you it later if you want."
"Thanks," Killian replies, nodding his head once. "I made breakfast if you want some." Seems like someone is making friends. Why does it make me happy? I shouldn’t care; I don’t really know these guys.
"Maybe later, but thanks. I'm stealing little Karma for the morning," Storm replies.
"For the love of gods, stop calling me little," I snap before eating the rest of my toast in annoyance.
"But you are so little," Storm replies with a smirk at my annoyance. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.”
"Let's just go before you say anything else that makes me want to throw something at you," I mutter, standing up and taking my plate to the sink. "Thanks, Killian. Maybe we can talk more later?"
"We need to leave," Storm interrupts before Killian can reply to me, and Killian only grins over at Storm before looking down at me.
"Any time, my angel," he replies. Oh, these gods with killer smiles, sharp jawlines and dangerously sexy eyes are definitely going to be trouble.
Chapter Twenty-One
"What have you got planned for us then, big guy?" I ask Storm after I close the front door, stepping out into the garden. I run my eyes over the herbs, flowers and various plants that are being grown out here, admiring how healthy they all look. It sure takes some dedication to keep a garden like this alive. Storm looks back at me for a moment, giving me a second to take in his white shirt, black trousers and holder for his axe which is still strapped to his back like he expects trouble at any moment. Storm's black hair is a complicated looking braid, with a long yellow string woven in before it's tied at the bottom, near his lower back.
"Big guy is a nickname I like, little Karma," he tells me. Dammit, I didn’t mean to call him any nickname at all.
"Maybe I should call you little guy then," I retort.
"Nothing about me is little, darling," he teases, and I roll my eyes, swiftly walking past him to the gate which I pull open. He is such a typical guy, and even though I know better, my cheeks still burn a slight red. Thankfully he swiftly changes the subject. "I wanted to show you around, introduce you to some of my people and just have a chat."
"Alright then," I reply, following him across the bridge that I'm getting a little used to. I'm still not a fan of heights, but jumping off that bridge sure did help with my fears a bit. I briefly glance down, seeing all the bridges with people walking across them, and instantly, I feel a little dizzy and shoot my head up, focusing on Storm's hair instead. We get off the bridge and walk across the ledge and down the steps.
"The level below our home is the general housing area. I will show you that another day, but there isn't much to see other than homes in caves,” he tells me as we pass another ledge and carry on down the stairs.
"Are these stairs the only way up?" I ask.
"No, there are five more stairways on the other side, but this is the only one that goes to our level," he explains to me.
"How many people live here?" I ask as we get to another ledge, and Storm steps out into it. He pauses, placing his hand on his chin as he thinks about an answer I presume.
"We did a count about five years ago. It was four hundred and ten, if I remember right," he tells me. "Though many people have children here, people die, and sometimes we get newcomers like you. It could be more or less than that count now." I walk to his side, stopping as I look over the huge bridge in front us, observing the busy group of people that are walking around on the other side between wooden stalls where there are other people handing out food and random goods, by the looks of it. I love the vines of flowers that crawl up the walls, but it makes me pause for a second.
