Page 88 of Broken Obsession
When they stepped up to the counter and saw Nyoka standing behind it, Ares was momentarily able to let his irritation go.
“What are you doing here?” He glanced at the red apron tied around his friend's waist, noting the shiny golden name tag over his heart.
“Fisher had an emergency at the hospital,” Nyoka explained with a shrug, “so I stepped in for him.”
“You’re working his shift?” Ares shook his head. “Just offer him money.”
“Tried that. You know how he is.” Nyoka cut the conversation short by greeting Eden. “Afternoon, Professor Baldur. See anything you like?” In case his flirtatious tone wasn’t enough, he wagged his brow suggestivly.
Ares lifted his right arm, hand bending inward so he could wave his middle finger beneath the tiny scanning device and activate his blaster, but Nyoka noticed and backtracked with a laugh.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It was a joke, man. Chill.” The Black Hart clicked his tongue at Eden. “Can you believe him? He’s so trigger-happy. Guess that’s what happens when you’ve died a hundred times. Death no longer carries any weight. Some of us only get the one life, Creation, and we’d like to keep it.”
“Died? Ares has died?” Eden must have caught a couple of comments where Ares had hinted as much, because he didn’t sound nearly as surprised, despite his words.
“You didn’t know?” Nyoka started typing on the holo-screen in front of him, placing an order for them, even though they hadn’t made any selections. “Project Firefly. It was an NDE experiment that lasted a decade.”
“NDE?”
“Near Death Experience.” Nyoka curled two fingers Ares’ way. “Pay up. It’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”
Ares pressed his multi-slate screen to the scanner, not bothering to check the price or what had been ordered on their behalf, and then stepped off to the side where the pick-up counter was located.
“You were a part of something like that?” Eden asked, lowering his voice as he joined him and other students moved up the line to fill the space at their side. The café was crowded since it was lunchtime, the chatter helping to drown out anything they might say, but discretion was still called for.
“My Father was head of the program,” Ares explained. “He was responsible for the conception. Mother helped make it a reality when she came on board and brought Bal.”
“Bal?”
“Zar.” Balthazar. Bal. Zar. God of Reality. “Names change depending on where you are.” It was a shitty explanation, but it was the best he could give. “Names help me associate different branches or time periods. They help make it real somehow. Before Eden, there was Ransom. Before Paradise there was—”
“Starling.” It was hard to tell what Eden thought about that, but he didn’t press for more.
Truly understanding a thing was impossible, and yet it was so obvious that’s what the pensive professor at his side was attempting. Eden wanted to comprehend what made Ares the way he was. Why?
“Weren’t you the one drawing lines in the sand this morning?” Ares reminded. “If all I am is your personal executioner, there’s no need for you to learn about my past. Leave it where it belongs.”
“According to you,” Eden countered, pushing him to the side when the barista handed over their drinks so he could take them both himself, “things like the past are irrelevant.”
Ares watched him turn and wander off, then grabbed the tray of food Nyoka had also ordered for them. He found Eden tucked into a corner of the room, his back against the glass of a window-wall, sunlight streaming down over him from behind.
He was so pretty…
If he hadn’t agreed to keep his distance, Ares would reach across the small, crimson colored square table and touch him. Run his fingers through the silky strands of his golden blond hair. Eden’s roots were showing, the pale blond shade noticeable against the darker dye, and Ares was reminded of last night.
Eden had gone through the clothes he’d packed and realized nothing was good enough for his first day. When Ares had shown him the closet, already filled with appropriate business wear, he’d been torn between annoyance and gratitude.
How would he react if Ares offered to bring him to the salon later to touch up his dye job? It wasn’t necessary, but Ares liked him in the darker shade. It separated him from Ransom. Ironic, considering this had all begun do to his obsession over the fictional character.
“I thought about forcing you to be him,” Ares confessed, even though there was no need for it. He reached for his red paper cup and sipped, pleased when a burst of artificial banana flavoring mixed with espresso greeted his tongue. “That could have been my stipulation. You be Ransom for me in exchange for your vengeance.”
“Oh?” Eden didn’t seem surprised. He plucked a golden dessert fork from the tray between them and carefully cut the corner off a piece of cheesecake. “What changed your mind?”
“Dinner.”
“You were incredibly normal at dinner,” Eden said. “I never would have guessed you—”
“See ghosts?”