Each week, I send out a story via my email newsletter. Each story is around 1000 words, sometimes less, sometimes more. The stories are in a variety of genres: supernatural, thriller, sci-fi, horror, and sometimes romance, and all of my stories typically feature a gay protagonist.
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This is story number 40 of the series. Enjoy!
The God Clause
Cory Daley had trust issues. Not the cute, quirky kind that made for good date conversation, but the deep-seated, therapy-worthy kind that came from watching his parents’ marriage implode when he was twelve. So when walked into Rosie’s Tavern on that drizzly Tuesday night, looking like he’d stepped off the cover of a romance novel, Cory’s first instinct was to run.
Instead, he stayed glued to his barstool, nursing his third beer and pretending to watch the Celtics game.
“You’re not really watching,” Stephan said, sliding onto the adjacent stool. His voice carried a slight accent Cory couldn’t place—something old-world and musical.
“Says who?” Cory kept his eyes on the screen, but he could smell Stephan’s cologne, something expensive and woody that made his stomach do weird things.
“Says the fact that you haven’t blinked in two minutes, and the game ended ten minutes ago. They’re showing highlights.”
Cory finally looked over. Big mistake. Stephan’s eyes were the color of storm clouds, and when he smiled, tiny lines crinkled at the corners like he’d been doing it for years. Decades, even.
“I’m Cory,” he said, because his brain had apparently short-circuited.
“Stephan.” The handshake lasted longer than necessary. “Buy you another drink?”
Three hours later, they were stumbling back to Cory’s cramped studio apartment, hands everywhere, mouths crashing together in the hallway like teenagers. Stephan tasted like whiskey and something else, something Cory couldn’t identify but made him feel dizzy.
The sex was incredible. Not just good—transcendent. Cory had been with enough guys to know the difference, but this felt like Stephan was reading his mind, anticipating every touch, every movement. Afterward, lying in the tangle of cheap sheets, Cory felt like he’d been hit by lightning.
“You okay?” Stephan’s fingers traced lazy circles on Cory’s chest.
“Yeah, just… wow.” Cory laughed, slightly breathless. “Where did you learn to do that thing with your—”
“Practice.” Stephan’s smile was mysterious. “Lots of practice.”
Over the next few weeks, Cory fell hard. Stephan was attentive without being clingy, passionate without being overwhelming. He remembered everything—Cory’s coffee order, his work schedule, the way he liked his eggs. It should have been perfect.
Except for the weird stuff.
It started small. Stephan’s phone never died, even though Cory never saw him charge it. Street lamps flickered when they walked by. Once, Cory could have sworn he saw Stephan’s reflection shimmer in a storefront window, like heat waves rising from summer pavement.
“You notice anything strange about Stephan?” Cory asked his best friend Michael over lunch.
Michael raised an eyebrow. “You mean besides the fact that he looks like a Greek god and is somehow into your neurotic ass?”
“I’m serious. There’s something off about him.”
“Dude, you always do this. Remember Jake? You convinced yourself he was a serial killer because he owned nice knives.”
“He owned a lot of knives, Marcus. An unusual amount.”
“He was a chef!”
Cory dropped it, but the incidents kept piling up. Stephan never seemed to get cold, even when Boston’s October wind turned vicious. His apartment was always the perfect temperature, though Cory never saw him adjust the thermostat. And then there was the night Cory woke up to find Stephan standing by the window, perfectly still, staring out at the city with an expression of profound sadness.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Cory asked softly.
Stephan startled, which was strange because nothing ever seemed to catch him off guard. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Old friends. People I’ve lost.” Stephan’s voice carried a weight that seemed too heavy for someone who couldn’t be older than thirty.
Two months in, Cory finally worked up the courage to dig deeper. They were walking through the Common after dinner, autumn leaves crunching under their feet.
“How many people have you dated?” Cory asked, trying to sound casual.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“Come on. I told you about my disaster of a dating history.”
Stephan was quiet for so long Cory thought he might not answer. “More than I care to count,” he said finally. “But none of them mattered. Not like you.”
The words should have made Cory happy, but something in Stephan’s tone made his stomach clench. “What do you mean, none of them mattered?”
“I mean I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone.”
“Not ever?”
“Not in a very long time.”
Cory stopped walking. “How long?”
Stephan’s expression shuttered. “Cory—”
“How long, Stephan?”
A homeless man shuffled past them, muttering to himself. As he got closer, Cory noticed the man’s eyes were completely white, like cataracts, but he was walking with purpose, not stumbling around blind.
“Beautiful evening, isn’t it, my lord?” the homeless man said, looking directly at Stephan.
Stephan went rigid. “Walk away, old man.”
“Of course. Forgive the interruption.” The man melted back into the shadows like he’d never been there.
Cory’s heart hammered against his ribs. “What the hell was that?”
“Nothing. Just a crazy guy.”
“He called you ‘my lord.'”
“People say all kinds of things.”
“Stephan.” Cory grabbed his arm, and for a split second, he could have sworn he felt electricity under his fingers. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Stephan closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they flashed gold. Just for an instant, but Cory saw it.
“You want the truth?” Stephan’s voice was different now, older somehow. “The truth is I’m not who you think I am.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m older than I look. Much older.”
Cory’s mouth went dry. “How much older?”
“I was born when your ancestors were still figuring out fire.”
The world tilted sideways. Cory stumbled backward, shaking his head. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Stephan raised his hand, and every streetlight on the path flickered in sequence. “I’m what your kind used to call a god, Cory. One of the old ones, from before Christianity swept through and made everyone forget.”
“You’re insane.”
“Am I?” Stephan’s form shimmered, and suddenly he was taller, more radiant, his clothes replaced by something that looked like it belonged in a museum. “I am Stephan, son of thunder, keeper of storms. I’ve watched civilizations rise and fall. I’ve loved mortals before, Cory, and I’ve watched them all die.”
Cory’s legs gave out. He sat down hard on a bench, his vision swimming. “This isn’t real. This is some kind of breakdown.”
Stephan knelt in front of him, back to his normal appearance. “I know it’s a lot—”
“A lot?” Cory’s voice cracked. “You’re telling me you’re an actual god. Like, mythology textbook god.”
“I prefer ‘divine entity,’ but yes.”
“And you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”
Pain flashed across Stephan’s face. “I’ve never lied about my feelings. What we have is real, Cory. More real than anything I’ve experienced in millennia.”
Cory laughed, high and hysterical. “Right. The immortal god has feelings for the accountant from Dorchester. That makes perfect sense.”
“You’re not just an accountant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before Stephan could answer, the temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant. Frost spread across the ground, and the air filled with the scent of ozone and something else—something rotten.
“They found us,” Stephan whispered, rising to his feet.
“Who found us?”
Three figures materialized from the shadows. They looked human, but wrong somehow, like someone had tried to recreate people from memory and gotten the proportions slightly off.
“Well, well,” the center figure said, its voice like grinding glass. “The fallen prince and his little pet.”
Stephan stepped in front of Cory. “This doesn’t involve him, Morrigan.”
“Oh, but it does.” The creature that had been called Morrigan smiled, revealing too many teeth. “He’s the key, isn’t he? The one the prophecy spoke of.”
“What prophecy?” Cory stood up, his legs shaky but holding.
“The one about the mortal who would awaken the sleeping god,” Morrigan said. “The one who would restore what was lost.”
Cory looked at Stephan. “What is she talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Stephan said, but Cory caught the lie in his voice.
Morrigan laughed. “He doesn’t know! Oh, this is rich. You fell in love with him without even realizing what he is.”
“What I am?” Cory’s voice was barely a whisper.
“You’re the last of the Nephilim, child. Half-human, half-divine. Your power has been sleeping, waiting for the right trigger.” Morrigan’s eyes gleamed. “And what better trigger than the love of a god?”
Cory felt something stirring inside him, like a beast waking up after a long sleep. His skin began to glow with a soft, golden light.
“No,” Stephan breathed. “That’s impossible. The Nephilim were wiped out centuries ago.”
“All but one.” Morrigan’s smile widened. “The one whose power we need to tear down the barriers between worlds. The one whose divine blood will fuel our return to glory.”
The creatures lunged forward. Stephan raised his hand, lightning crackling between his fingers, but Cory was faster. Power exploded out of him, pure and white-hot, sending the attackers flying backward.
In the sudden silence, Cory stared at his hands, which were still glowing like he’d swallowed the sun.
“I’m not human,” he said wonderingly.
“No,” Stephan said softly. “You’re not.”
Cory looked up at him, and for the first time since they’d met, he saw Stephan clearly—not as the mysterious stranger who’d swept him off his feet, but as what he truly was. Ancient. Powerful. And absolutely terrified.
“You knew,” Cory said. “You knew what I was.”
“I suspected. The way you made me feel, it wasn’t natural. I haven’t felt anything like love in over a thousand years, Cory. Nothing could break through that kind of numbness except—”
“Except someone like me.” Cory’s laugh was bitter. “So what, this was all some cosmic setup? The universe’s idea of a joke?”
“No.” Stephan reached for him, but Cory stepped back. “My feelings are real. What we have is real.”
“Is it? Or is it just destiny manipulating us both?”
Before Stephan could answer, Morrigan stirred in the frost-covered grass. “Kill us if you want,” she rasped, “but others will come. Your awakening has sent ripples through every realm. They’ll never stop hunting you.”
Cory looked down at her, power still humming under his skin. “Let them come.”
Without a word, the three of them disappeared as they were never there.
Cory turned to Stephan, who was watching him with something like awe.
“I guess we’re both stuck with what we are,” Cory said. “The question is, do we face it together or apart?”
Stephan’s smile was radiant. “Together. Always together.”
THE END