Page 8 of Bride of Death (Netherworld Fae #1)

“I’m not one to mince words, trouble,” he informs me. “If I hurt someone in your honor, you would know.”

“In my honor?” I repeat. “And why are you calling me trouble?” It’s the second time he’s said that, but I was too preoccupied to comment on it the first time.

“Because you’re trouble,” he replies, returning to his task. “And a mystery.”

“I’m neither,” I promise him. “I’m just a human named Sera.”

“You’re a human that possesses the soul of a Goddess,” he corrects me. “Which is both exhilarating and frustrating. You’re powerful, yet ridiculously breakable. An infuriating combination to protect and now guide, apparently.”

That last part is muttered under his breath, causing me to ask, “Guide in what way?”

“Toward the altar,” he drawls as he drops more items into his pan, causing a sizzle to enter the air. He hums an odd tune under his breath that sounds like a march of some kind before adding, “And I now pronounce you husband and wife. Or is it God and Goddess?” He shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.”

I scowl. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Because you’re not an Omega and not Persephone.” His sarcastic tone is not appreciated, nor is the slight feminine lilt he attempted to add to the statement. “At least I believe your memory problem now.”

“My memory problem?”

He nods. “Hades thinks you’re acting.” Maliki glances back at me. “If you are, then bravo, because you certainly have me convinced, little mystery.”

I stare at his muscular back as he resumes cooking. “He thinks I’m pretending not to remember? That I’m secretly aware of my soul somehow?” Does he hear how insane that sounds?

“Yes, he thinks this is all a game or an act,” Maliki confirms. “But it’s been thirteen months since you arrived here, and you truly do seem to be clueless to me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” I mutter.

“It’s probably not.” He flips something in the pan, making me wonder what he’s making. “That said, I don’t mean it as an insult. As I said before, I don’t mince words.”

He reaches for a cupboard to pull out two plates, then sets them on the counter.

“So to answer your earlier question,” he goes on, “no, I didn’t hurt Tank. He’s in the Midnight Fae Realm with his boyfriend. And I gave him three months of ink coins in exchange for borrowing his place. So he’s fine.”

He picks up the pan and lets something slide off it onto one of the plates, then the other.

“As to your follow-up question regarding my purpose as your guard, it’s because Hades gave me you as an assignment.”

Maliki opens a drawer to grab two forks, then turns around to bring the food to the table.

I meet his gaze, my throat struggling to swallow. Not just because of how intense he looks right now or the alluring display of skin, but because of him referring to me as an assignment .

“You’re valuable,” Maliki tells me as he sets the plate down in front of me along with one of the forks. “More than valuable, actually. You’re one of a kind. And I’m here to protect you. Although, as of last night, it’s also apparently my job to convince you to marry Hades.”

I blink at him. “He wants you to make me marry him?” I suppose Maliki did say something about me choosing the hard way and not to blame him for our next meeting.

“No, I said convince, not make ,” Maliki reiterates. “One suggests persuasion; the other implies force. So we’re going to start with me explaining everything and go from there. But first, you should eat. The sounds coming from your stomach are reminding me of the Blood River rapids.”

I grimace. “Pretty sure that’s not a compliment either.”

His lips quirk up as he sits across from me. “You don’t need me to compliment you, trouble. In fact, I’d advise against it.”

I huff out a breath, then pick up the fork to poke at the yellowish patty on my plate. “Why would you advise against it?” I ask, half aware of my question as I examine the food he’s made. “And what is this?”

“You seem fond of asking two questions at once,” he muses. “As to what that is, it’s similar to an omelet. Regarding why you don’t want me to compliment you, it’s because I happen to like being among the living.”

I blink. “I don’t know what an omelet is,” I tell him, then look up at him. “And I have no idea what complimenting me has to do with you enjoying life.”

He gives me a surprised look. “You’re human and you’ve never had an omelet?”

“No.”

He huffs a breath. “I keep forgetting that you grew up in an alternate dimension where humans are stuck in the seventeen or eighteen hundreds. Granted, I’m pretty sure omelets date back to Ancient Persia, but I digress.

” He gestures to my plate with his fork.

“It’s basically eggs and vegetables with a pinch of cheese. Try it.”

My stomach grumbles again, making him give me a pointed look.

Sighing, I give in and try the omelet .

And instantly groan.

Because wow . The flavors are so much better than the cereal I usually munch on in the morning. It even beats the pastries I enjoyed at the palace. “This is really good,” I say around a mouthful, not caring at all that it’s probably impolite.

“You sound surprised,” he murmurs in response.

“I am.”

“Why?” he asks, arching a brow. “You didn’t think an assassin could cook?”

I choke on my food at the term, causing Maliki to push away from the table. I stare at him wide-eyed as he opens the fridge to pull out a pitcher of water that he promptly pours into a glass and hands to me.

I almost don’t accept it, but I need to swallow, so I do.

Then I sputter out the word, “Assassin?”

He grunts. “Would you prefer the term enforcer ? That’s a favorite title among the Death Fae.”

I just stare at him.

Which earns me a sigh from the assassin. “I’ve already told you I’m here to protect you, Sera. Obviously, that means I’m not going to hurt you.”

When I don’t reply, he leans back in his chair, his plate as forgotten as mine.

“You don’t need to fear me.”

“I think I do,” I counter. “You’re an assassin who is here to convince me to marry the God of Death. What happens when I keep refusing?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Then I’ll probably be punished for failing, and Hades will come up with a new method to persuade you.”

“That sounds ominous,” I say, swallowing.

But Maliki just smiles. “Actually, I think he should be the one explaining himself to you, not me. So it would serve him right to have to change course.”

With another shrug, he leans forward again and resumes eating.

I gape at him.

He ignores me for several minutes, then says, “Oh, and the reason compliments would be bad is because they can be construed as flirting. And Hades is a possessive asshole. So flirting with you would equate to a death sentence. Ergo, no compliments. Now eat your omelet, or I’ll be forced to feed it to you. ”