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“Is that why they all keep staring at you? Do they all want to sleep with you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or you. You seem to be attracting the most attention in this place. Or wherever we go. Perhaps they wanted to see if they could best a god, steal his woman out from under his nose.”
I was joking about that last part, but from the fire in his eyes and the way his nostrils fare, I realize I need to tread more carefully with Mr. Literal here.
“They’re just being guys,” I say quickly. “I know how to handle them.”
“A knife to the throat, I hope,” he says, nodding his thanks as the waitress brings over another glass of beer, one she tells us is on the house. Obviously, she thinks the glass was faulty, because what man could break a thick mug with his bare hand?
“If it comes to that,” I tell him. “The sad thing about learning self-defense is that you can actually use it when the time comes, and that time usually does come.”
“I know. I’ve seen you put it to good use already. I just didn’t think you would need it inthisworld.”
I sigh. “Yeah, well, you might have a skeleton army uprising going on back at home and usurpers and vengeful exes, but in this world, mortals aren’t much better. Don’t you ever wonder how so many people end up in Inmost? This is where they learn to be bad people.”
He grumbles at that, palming his beer as he thinks it over. “I’ve never seen anyone hit on you before. Threaten you, yes, and I made sure they were never able to do it again. But try and sleep with you? No. That doesn’t happen in Tuonela, not under my watch.”
I laugh softly. “That’s because everyone is under your watch. Who is going to try and sleep with me in Shadow’s End? Your son?”
The light in his eyes darkens. “Why would my son?”
“I’m using him as an example. Your son wouldn’t, but he’s also the only slightly human being there. Sarvi’s not trying to get their horn in my pants, that’s for sure.”
His lip curls up slightly, and I can tell he’s trying to picture it.
“Well, you have no reason to be jealous,” I go on, though, truth be told, I’m tickled pink that he is for once.
“Jealous,” he says slowly. “What a strange emotion. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before.”
“Maybe you’ve never had anything you…” I trail off before I saylove before.
I can’t finish the sentence, because the truth is, he doesn’t love me. I know that much. The fact that when I told him I loved him, he didn’t say it back hasn’t left the back of my mind, nor my heart, having wormed its way deep inside like a cavity. It’s a constant reminder that though our feelings for each other may be genuine, they aren’t equal.
“Everything has always been mine,” he finishes. “Including you. Here, it’s like that doesn’t matter. In this world, it’s like any man can come and try to take you away from me.”
Butterflies take flight in my chest. “No one is taking me away from you. You have nothing to worry about.”
He nods at that and takes a generous sip of his drink, but I can tell it’s troubling him. I’m all for making a guy jealous, but I don’t want them to be sad about it.
I finish the rest of my beer and then excuse myself to go to the restroom, which is located around a dark corner, in between the restaurant and the hotel lobby. It’s not until I’m walking that I realize how drunk I am, weaving slightly as I go. It could also be that my body is just absolutely tired after taking beating after beating in Inmost. Either way, I think I have to slow my roll, because the last thing I want is to wake up tomorrow with ahangover. I’ve already lost a year of my life here; I’m not losing another day if I don’t have to.
After I’m done, I look at myself in the mirror above the sink. I look a lot better than I did earlier, but I’m wondering if I should stop by a store tomorrow to get some makeup and skincare. We were lucky enough that the hotel had mini teeth cleaning and vanity kits in the room, but it would be nice to have at least a hairbrush.
I tuck my hair behind my ears and step out of the bathroom.
I run right into the drunk mustache guy.
“Oh, sorry,” I apologize, stepping out of the way.
But the guy just steps in front of me again, blocking the way back to the bar.
“Is that guy really your husband?” the guy says, slurring his words. “Or is he an overprotective friend who doesn’t like it when men talk to you?”
I’m about to tell him to fuck off and shove him back against the wall when I see Tuoni approach out of my peripheral.
Death moves like a flash of silver lightning.
Tuoni’s hand shoots out, and he grabs the guy by the throat, throwing him back against the wall, holding him a few feet above the ground so his head is almost touching the ceiling. Unlike what he did with the front desk clerk, I think Tuoni means to kill this guy.
