Page 23 of Bride of Death (Netherworld Fae #1)

Sera

Scents surround me. Heavenly ones.

Silky cotton.

Leather and smoke.

A hint of crisp, wintry air.

Mmm . I nuzzle into the source of the alluring aroma and inhale deeply. Fae, it feels warm. Safe. Hard, yet soft. Like muscle.

Sculpted muscle.

Abs.

My brow furrows as my fingers skim the ridges of a masculine torso.

Am I dreaming? It feels hotter than usual. Even more defined, too.

Hades is always tense, his abdomen a playground for my hands.

But this landscape is slightly different. There’s no thin trail of hair beneath the belly button to tempt my fingertips downward. Instead, it’s all smooth, toned skin.

“Sera,” a deep, growly voice rumbles against my ear. “If you go any lower, I cannot be held accountable for my response.”

I slowly lift my head away from the pillow—er , masculine chest— and gape up at Maliki. “Oh!” I yank my hand away, and he visibly shudders.

Which isn’t just visible, actually. I feel it against my leg.

Because my thigh is wedged between his.

My eyes widen as I try to untangle our limbs.

He grabs my hip just before I tip backward off the bed.

Because yeah, I overcompensated and nearly sent myself to the floor.

I wince, then go to bury myself in my pillow.

Which is just Maliki’s chest.

“Thorns,” I breathe.

“No, just Maliki,” he returns. “In a very itchy sweater.”

I peek up at him and realize said sweater is pushed up all the way to his neck. Because I apparently made a bed out of his bare chest.

My eyes close, and I slowly roll away from him this time. Cloth whispers beside me, likely a result of him fixing his sweater. After a beat of silence follows, I open my eyes again, as I assume it’s safe.

And find him now shirtless in the bed.

I gape at the delicious display of muscle before forcing myself to look up at his face. “Do shirts just offend you or something?” I blurt out. “You never seem to wear them.”

One dark brow inches upward. “I’ve been in that itchy sweater for far longer than I care to admit, all because I didn’t want to wake you. So yeah, that sweater does offend me. Particularly as I’ve been choking on it since you tried to push it over my head while sleeping on me.”

My cheeks burn in response to everything he just said. “Oh. Um. Sorry?”

He grasps my chin between his thumb and finger, his gaze intent as he stares down at me. “Don’t ever apologize for trying to disrobe me, trouble. I really don’t mind.”

With that unexpected pronouncement, he releases me and rolls off the bed to his feet in a deft motion that makes me a little jealous. “I’m going to make breakfast. How do you feel about crepes?”

“Breakfast?” I repeat, feeling dumb. Or just confused. Yeah, I prefer confused.

“You slept for over twelve hours,” he murmurs. “So yes, breakfast. Crepes?”

I don’t know what crepes are, but I nod anyway. Because my stomach is growling. I’m warm and tingly everywhere. And I’m feeling a bit bewildered.

So breakfast would be good.

Because it would mean Maliki is giving me some space to process what just happened.

“Thank you,” I whisper. I voice the gratitude in response to him leaving me alone for a minute, but the words feel weighted, like I mean them for so much more.

And I realize I do.

Because I asked him to stay for a few minutes, my need to just be held overriding my pride.

My soul is evil. It destroyed an entire realm. I… I don’t know how to reconcile that.

“Hey,” Maliki says, grabbing my chin again. Only, he’s towering over me this time, as he walked over to my side of the bed.

I stare up into his gold eyes, my throat working to swallow.

“Don’t thank me for giving you what you need, Sera. While I appreciate the acknowledgment, I don’t want you to ever feel like you owe me something in return. Okay?”

I finally get my throat to function properly, but now my mouth feels dry. “Okay,” I manage to reply.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my lower lip and leaving a foreign warmth behind. “I need to grab some things from Tank’s place so I can cook here. While I’m doing that, why don’t you take a shower and try to relax.”

I nod because I don’t think I can speak anymore.

He gives me a small smile. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Are you sure about that? I want to ask. Because I feel like I’m about to catch on fire.

He gives my chin a little squeeze, then releases me again. “I’ll start your shower for you,” he says. “Then I’ll head over to find what I need to make crepes.”

I gape at his muscular back as he wanders into my bathroom to do exactly what he just said. When he doesn’t return, I frown.

The water is running. I can hear it. So why didn’t he come back out?

My eyes widen. Did he decide to shower first? With the door wide open?

For whatever reason, that thought has me slipping out of bed, curiosity guiding my actions.

I shouldn’t go look. I really shouldn’t. But a naked Maliki might be in my shower right now.

And I… I find myself very interested in seeing that.

Only, my bathroom is empty when I arrive.

Because he said he was going to start the shower and then make the crepes.

He shadowed back to Tank’s place , I realize, my eyes closing at my own idiocy. Wow, Sera. Wow.

I… I really need to just stand under the water until I find my brain again.

So I do. I take probably the longest shower of my life. Which is impressive considering how chilly the water is here.

By the time I surface, I’m basically an ice cube. But some part of me recognizes that I probably deserve to feel cold given what my soul did in a past life.

I wince. Why did you pick me as your host? I want to demand. Why did you hurt all those fae?

I grab the sink counter and close my eyes, my towel loosely wrapped around my torso.

What happens if I become an Omega like Alina? I asked this before, wondering if I would lose who I am in favor of my soul.

But as Morpheus pointed out, Alina is still herself. Maybe I’ll remain the same, too.

Only, Alina didn’t possess a spirit with a known identity. So what does that mean for me?

Swallowing, I force myself to focus on finding clothes. Except my heart isn’t really in it, so I end up pulling on some black shorts and pair them with a long-sleeved top.

It’s a weird combination, but I don’t care. I want to be comfortable. So no jeans. And the blouse-like top has a low V-neck that makes me feel like I can breathe.

Maliki’s gaze runs over me when I enter my kitchen, a towel in my hand as I try to dry my hair. He doesn’t say anything, so I assume that means my outfit is fine.

Instead, he returns his focus to the stove—which doesn’t look repaired so much as brand-new. I don’t know what his magic-wielding friend did, but I swear he upgraded my entire kitchen after the Pip incident.

I take a seat at my small kitchen table and watch Maliki work. He’s put on a long-sleeved shirt and changed into a dark pair of pants. There are little droplets of water clinging to his unruly hair, suggesting he may have just taken a shower, too.

Naturally, my mind conjures up an image of him bathing.

Naked.

All those tattoos on display.

Do they move when he’s wet? I wonder, then shiver as I think about what that looks like.

“Do you prefer sweet or savory for breakfast?” Maliki asks, interrupting my fantasy.

“Savory,” I say, admiring him again. His outfit is all black, the fabric clinging to him in a way that accentuates his muscular physique.

I snuggled that body all night , I think, shivering. I’ve never shared a bed with a male before. I’ve never desired to, either. But I rather liked the warmth Maliki provided.

And his scent.

I inhale now and nearly flutter my lashes at the fragrances blossoming to life in my kitchen. I smell his leathery cologne. I smell fruit. I smell something buttery.

So many alluring aromas.

So many alluring sights .

Fae, what is wrong with me? I took a long cold shower, yet I feel overly warm.

Maybe I should have worn a tank top with my shorts instead of long sleeves.

I tug at my low neckline, my chest feeling a little funny.

The last few days have been intense.

Thorns, the last several years have been intense.

I just… I don’t know how to reconcile any of this. My soul is evil.

But there’s so much I don’t understand.

Morpheus said the Omegas disappeared and are believed to be dead. Yet he worded it in a way that suggested he didn’t believe that. Which makes sense—Alina is an Omega. And she’s very much alive.

“So were the Omegas reincarnated?” I wonder out loud, causing Maliki to glance back at me.

“That’s the theory,” he answers, making me frown. “Hades found traces of an Omega’s essence—his mother’s, actually—in your home world. That’s why he had me open a portal to the infamous Monsters Night; he wanted to give Orcus a proper cover story for exploring the alternate dimension.”

Maliki returns to his task while I consider what he just told me. “That means the Omegas might be… alive, right?” I’m not sure if alive is the right term. Maybe… “Like they survived after all?”

“Hades never thought they were dead, just hidden away somewhere. That’s why he’s been hunting for them all this time.

” He flips something onto a plate and sets it to the side.

“But Alina’s existence, as well as yours, suggests that the souls were hidden in new forms of life in alternate dimensions. ”

He repeats the action with a second plate, then turns off the stove and rotates toward me.

“So, yes, it seems that at least some of them were reincarnated. Unfortunately, there are only two souls who know the truth. One is currently imprisoned in Pandora’s Box, where she’s refusing to speak. And the other…”

“Is Persephone,” I whisper, finishing the sentence for him.

He nods.

“But Alina doesn’t remember anything about a past life,” I tell him. “She has a deep understanding of what it means to be an Omega, but not exact experiences.” Or that’s how she’s explained it to me, anyway. “Is that because she didn’t have a specific spirit inside her?”