When He Takes -fallen God 2- - Gabrielle Sands File

The moment the chains fell from my wrists, I knew he was lying.

“You should hate me,” he said. Not looking at me. Looking at the altar where they’d once bound him for a thousand years.

Not of his enemies.

“I am still a monster,” he said against my pulse. When he takes -Fallen god 2- - Gabrielle Sands

In the silence, I remembered what the old texts said about the Fallen God’s curse. That he would destroy whatever he loved most. That his touch was ruin. That his heart beat only to break the world.

“To speak.” I stepped closer, my bare feet pressing into cold marble stained with divine blood. “And I’m telling you now—you don’t get to fall alone.”

Not with words—Valdís, the Fallen God of Ruin, never lied with words. He lied with silences. With the way his scarred fingers paused before touching my skin. With the way he said “run” like a prayer rather than a command. The moment the chains fell from my wrists,

“Good,” I answered, and pulled him closer. “So am I.” Because some falls aren’t endings. They’re the first step toward something the gods never anticipated: A monster loved. And a monster who loves back.

Valdís went utterly still.

Instead, I watched him kneel among the ruins of the celestial court, his massive wings—once white, now the color of bruised storm clouds—folded tight against his back. The other gods had fled. The mortal army had scattered. Only the two of us remained in the great hall, surrounded by fallen pillars and the soft, terrible sound of ash drifting through broken windows. Looking at the altar where they’d once bound

Outside, the other gods were gathering their armies. Inside, Valdís pressed his lips to my throat—not to break, but to breathe.

I didn’t run.

“You left me my breath.”

He pulled me against his chest, and his wings closed around us like a tomb. Like a womb. Like the beginning of something that had no name yet.