Page 7 of Bride of Death (Netherworld Fae #1)

Sera

Hades.

The name whispers through my mind, both familiar and frightening. “You think I’m engaged to Hades?” I ask Ghost, my voice sounding a million miles away as I try to sort through the confusion in my head. “Is this because of Alina?”

That’s the only thing that makes sense. My sister is an Omega. Maybe Hades assumes I’m one, too.

But I’m not.

I’m nothing like Alina.

I don’t mean that as an insult or a barb; it’s merely the truth.

Alina is fearless. Comfortably mated. Happy.

I’ve been called timid all my life. Fragile. Malleable. Na?ve .

None of those adjectives are accurate. But this male—the one who seems to think I’m engaged —no doubt has his assumptions.

“I know she’s mated to Orcus,” I go on, my thoughts spilling out through my mouth.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m suitable for his brother.

” My brow furrows. “And besides that, I’ve never even met Hades.

So…” I lift my gaze from Ghost’s abs—I didn’t even realize that was where I was looking until I went to find his face—and say, “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“You said that last night,” he replies, his muscles rippling as he folds his arms. “And as I said then, I know exactly who you are, Persephone.”

My jaw clenches. There’s that name again. “My name is Sera.”

“Which you also said last night.”

“Then perhaps you should try listening to me,” I interject before he can go on or say something else to annoy me. “I’ve never met Hades. I’m not engaged to him. I’m also not an Omega—hence I’m not like Alina—and I would really like you to go now.”

He pops his hip against my counter, his gaze assessing.

“What if I stay and fill you in on what I know instead,” he offers. “Such as the fact that Hades says you possess an Omega’s soul, and not just any soul, but the one he was mated to in a past life. And by the way, her name was Persephone. Therefore…” He gestures at me while I gape back at him.

Because that was a lot of information to pass along in the blink of a few words.

“Hmm, I see I’ve finally made you listen,” he muses. “Shall I feed you as well?” He glances at my ruined stove. “Or did you have your heart set on charcoaled pancakes?”

“I…” I follow his gaze to the burnt mess as my stomach begins to grumble. I haven’t eaten anything since before my shift last night, and now my kitchen is destroyed. My options are pretty limited—walk over to the Bone Shack for a burger or take Ghost up on his offer.

I’m not particularly fond of meat first thing in the morning. So the latter seems more appetizing. Except…

“What kind of breakfast are you going to make?” I ask him, unable to mask the wariness in my tone.

His gaze dances over me, his lips quirking upward into a smirk. “Get dressed, then come over and find out.”

My brow furrows, my eyes dropping to the towel I’m still clutching to my chest. “Oh.” It feels like an hour has passed since my shower and the whole fiasco in the kitchen.

“And be prepared to tell me who he is,” Ghost adds.

“He?” I echo, not following at all.

“The he who was supposedly making you breakfast,” he says.

“Oh,” I repeat, my lips twisting. “Pip.” I glance around. “Where did he go, anyway?”

“Who the fuck is Pip?” Ghost demands.

“A spirit,” I tell him, then shake my head. “Wait, why am I explaining myself to you? It’s you who owes me answers, not the other way around.”

“I owe you answers?” he asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah,” I reply, my hands dropping to my hips. “About my supposed fia ? — ”

The towel begins to unravel, ending my commentary as I scramble to grab the cotton and hold it against my chest.

“You know what? I’m going to go put on some clothes.”

“I did suggest that already,” he drawls.

But I ignore him and leave for the small bedroom. It’s not a far walk, the door only two paces to my left. Actually, I’m pretty sure the entire space is about fifteen steps or so from the front door to the back wall of my bedroom.

Very different from the room I stayed in at Death’s Palace.

Hades’s home , I think.

My sister and her mates live in one wing of the massive estate, and I lived there for a year without ever seeing Hades. Yet he seems to think we’re engaged.

No, worse than that— mates .

“If that’s true, then why didn’t he ever come to see me?” I mutter aloud as I pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top.

I’m about to put them on when I think better of it and grab some black pants instead. The cotton fabric is a lot softer and meant for sleeping, but I don’t care. It’s a comfort-first kind of morning. Especially considering all the work I’m going to have to do in the kitchen today.

Stars, what a way to spend my day. Fortunately, I only have the late shift at the Den tonight.

Pip and I are going to have a very long one-sided conversation whenever he returns.

But first, I’m going to get some answers from Ghost. And hopefully eat something edible in the process.

I yank the black tank top on, the built-in sports bra making it a comfortable top to pair with the casual pants. Then I gather my wet hair up into a messy bun and tie it up on top of my head.

Apparently, I’m engaged.

No need to tempt the sexy shirtless fae waiting in my living room, right?

Not that I want to tempt him. Or tempt anyone. Or find a mate. Or be engaged .

It feels like I told Ghost and Jack a week ago that I have no interest in the mating games. Yet it’s been, like, twelve hours.

Insanity .

Blowing out a breath, I walk back into the kitchen and find Ghost evaluating my stove again. “Yeah, that’ll do,” he says, causing me to glance around. “Thanks, Jerry.”

My brow furrows. “Jerry?”

Ghost turns to point to his rounded ear.

I stare at it for a beat, frowning. Uh, okay… If he’s on a phone, I don’t see it.

“I don’t care how many inks, man, just don’t involve Bear.” He nods to himself. “Good. Two hours, yeah?” Another nod. “I’ll pass it along. Thanks again.” He taps his head, his eyes on me. “I thought clothes would help curb the temptation. I was wrong.”

I frown, but he doesn’t give me a chance to reply—not that I know what to say to his commentary anyway—and heads toward the door.

He pauses after stepping through the threshold and looks back at me. “Pip is a Death Fae. That’s what you meant by ‘spirit,’ right?”

“Uh, no. I mean he’s a spirit. You know, like a ghost. Only not you, obviously.” I meet him in the doorway. “But I think we established that you’re answering the questions now, not me.”

“I never said anything about answering questions, trouble. I offered to share what I know.” He takes a step backward. “And I promised you food. So follow me and I’ll feed you something more appetizing than the meal Pip prepared.”

“He meant well,” I mutter as I trail after Ghost to the hut I share a wall with. Tank’s house.

Only it seems Ghost has been staying here, something he proves by entering without knocking and walking straight to the kitchen. When he pulls out a bunch of items without pause, I know he isn’t lying, because he doesn’t hesitate in finding what he needs.

I close the door, then join him by sitting at the two-person table. He moves around without comment, clearly focused on his task.

“I’m not a ghost, by the way,” he says conversationally. “I’m an abominable mix of several fae, but Death Fae isn’t in my monstrous makeup.”

I frown at him. “I never called you a ghost. I was referring to your name.”

He pauses whatever he’s doing with his knife and looks up at me. “My name is Maliki. Ghost is a nickname.”

I scrunch my nose. “Oh.”

“Not a fan?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Uh, no.” I clear my throat, realizing how that sounds. “No, I mean, I… I’ve just been calling you Ghost . So I’m just, um, adjusting?” It comes out uncertain because I sound like a babbling idiot.

Which isn’t me.

I’m not this nervous, confused, delirious female. I’m just… overwhelmed, I guess.

And hungry.

My stomach growls.

Scratch that. I’m very hungry.

The sensation seems to be growing by the second as savory aromas start to scent the air. I didn’t realize that Ghost— Maliki— started something on the stove. But I notice now as he drops whatever he chopped up into it.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, which I suppose he does to an extent.

Because Tank is on holiday . That’s what Maliki said, anyway.

I frown. “You didn’t hurt Tank, right?” I’m not sure why I ask. But something about this male screams danger. And now I’m a little concerned that a fae was harmed in Maliki’s quest to live next door.

For reasons I still don’t understand.

“And why are you staying in his place?” I ask before he answers my Tank question. Only, I already know the answer to this query. “To guard me?” I voice that knowledge as a question because I don’t understand the reason. “Why?”

Maliki looks up from the counter where he’s chopping something else now. His dark hair falls across his forehead in a messy wave, one he seems to ignore even as it grazes his golden eyes.

“Why would I have hurt Tank?” he questions me. “Did he touch you?”

My frown deepens. “What? No. We spoke for, like, thirty seconds. He asked what I was doing here, I told him I just moved in, and he nodded, gave me his name, then went into his house.” It was probably the easiest conversation I’ve had with a fae since moving to this kingdom.

Unfortunately, the interaction set an unfair standard. Tank didn’t ask for my mate status or try to flirt with me. That was part of what made him memorable—he treated me like a normal person, not some exotic animal.

“Then why would you think I hurt him?” Maliki asks.

I stare at him. “Because you said he’s on an all-expenses-paid holiday…” I trail off, the words leaving my lips slowly as I’m not sure how to complete my thought out loud or how to explain that my mind translated his words to mean something else.

The reply, You’re intimidating, sits on the edge of my tongue. And you have a violent aura.

Yeah, those comments would go over really well, I’m sure.