Page 39 of Dark Rover’s Luck (The Children Of The Gods #95)

39

FENELLA

F enella studied her reflection in Shira's full-length mirror, adjusting the black blouse she'd 'purchased' from Jasmine's seemingly endless wardrobe. Paired with black jeans, it meant she was ready for her first night tending bar at the Hobbit.

"Not bad for a seventy-three-year-old," she murmured to herself as she struck a pose to admire her profile.

Her belly was flat, her breasts were perky even without a bra, although she was wearing one now, and her face was exactly the same as it was fifty years ago.

All thanks to Max.

Behind her, the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam as Din emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders, and his hair was slicked back from his face, emphasizing his strong jawline.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, his eyes traveling appreciatively over her body.

"Hello to you, too, handsome." Fenella stretched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

She'd spent the night with him again, just as she had the night before. Waking up beside him in the morning was a nice treat, and it felt as natural as if they'd been doing it for years instead of days. Then he'd come with her to Shira's place.

Her roommate was working the midday shift in the library again, but she'd promised to do her best to stop by the bar and get a drink or two to support Fenella on her first night on the job. She'd also murmured something about a potential hookup with a guy she'd met in the library, so Fenella wasn't really expecting Shira to show up tonight.

Din pulled on a T-shirt. "Nervous?"

"Excited, not nervous." She watched him dress with unabashed interest. It was a luxury to enjoy such casual intimacy with a guy, the simple pleasure of admiring a lover's body without fear or reservation or the urge to bolt at the first opportunity. "For me, bartending is like riding a bicycle."

"Except, this time, the clientele is immortal," Din pointed out, zipping his jeans.

Fenella waved a dismissive hand. "Immortal, human—doesn't matter. Drinkers are drinkers the world over. They want their drinks made properly, a bit of conversation, and someone to listen to their troubles without passing judgment."

She took a final glance in the mirror, then grabbed her small purse from the bed—another acquisition from Jasmine's closet. "We should head out soon. I want to get there early and help Atzil set up for the evening."

Din nodded, running a hand through his damp hair. "Do you want to stop by Thomas's place first? I need to grab a dress shirt."

"The one you're wearing is fine."

"It's a T-shirt. I thought I'd wear a button-down."

Fenella raised an eyebrow. "Why? You're just walking me over there, right?"

Din's sudden interest in examining his shoe spoke volumes. Fenella narrowed her eyes.

"Din?"

"I thought I'd stay for a little bit," he said, attempting nonchalance. "To show support on your first night."

"A little bit, meaning what?"

"Until closing."

Fenella crossed her arms. "You want to sit at the bar all night and watch me work?"

"Why not? I spent decades thinking about you and the way you looked behind the bar. Now, I finally get a replay of my fantasy."

It was a nice sentiment, but Fenella wasn't fooled. "Try again. The truth this time."

Din sighed, finally meeting her gaze. "Fine. I want to make sure everything goes smoothly and that no one gives you any trouble."

"Trouble? In this village of perfect immortals with their perfect teeth and perfect manners?"

"Immortals can be assholes too," Din said. "Especially after a few drinks. Not everyone behaves themselves when they've had too much."

"And you're going to do what exactly? Defend my honor if someone gets obnoxious? I know how to handle drunk patrons, Din, and I've done that in places a lot rougher than a bar called 'the Hobbit' in an immortal commune."

"I know you can handle yourself," Din protested. "But this is your first night, and I just want to be there for you."

Fenella softened at the earnestness in his expression. "It's sweet that you want to protect me, but it's unnecessary. And if I'm being honest, a bit stifling."

"Stifling?" Din looked offended.

"Yes." Fenella slung the strap of the purse across her body, signaling it was time to leave. "Having someone hover over me is going to take some adjustment."

"I'm not hovering," Din protested as they walked down the hallway. "I'm being supportive."

"Supportive would be saying 'have a great first night, I can't wait to hear all about it when you get home.' Hovering is planting yourself at the bar for seven hours to make sure no one looks at me wrong."

Din ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Fenella was beginning to recognize as a sign of frustration. "What's wrong with me wanting to be with you?"

"We've hardly been apart since you've arrived."

"And it's been wonderful."

"It has." Fenella surprised herself by agreeing. "But I also need space to breathe, Din. I don't need a babysitter."

She walked to the front door and checked her watch. Still plenty of time to get to the bar early.

"Look," she said, her tone softening, "you can come tonight and stay until closing, but just this once. It's important to me that I establish myself there on my own terms."

"Fair enough," Din conceded, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "Just tonight, unless you decide that you actually like having me around and keeping the drunks from harassing you."

Fenella wasn't sure she believed he would obey her wishes on that. There was something in his tone that hinted at future arguments over this boundary. For all the talk about fated mates she'd heard from Kyra and Jasmine, she and Din were still navigating the complexities of two fiercely independent people trying to forge a connection that wouldn't suffocate either of them.

Kyra and Jasmine both seemed completely in sync with their mates—unable to be apart for long without experiencing physical and emotional distress. They described it as a tether connecting them to their mates and pulling taut when the separation exceeded a few hours.

Fenella hoped that would never happen to her. She craved her space, her independence, and she couldn't imagine being attached to someone at the hip. She enjoyed Din's company, found him intellectually stimulating and physically irresistible, but she didn't feel like she couldn't breathe without him being near.

In her not-so-humble opinion, Kyra and Jasmine were the crazy ones and she was the normal one.

Then again, it was possible that her and Din's connection was not fated but something more mundane and, therefore, potentially more fragile.