Page 41 of Dark Rover’s Luck (The Children Of The Gods #95)

41

DIN

D in nursed his third beer, watching Fenella work behind the bar with joy and confidence that made his chest swell with pride.

She belonged here.

Her hands never hesitated as she poured drinks, mixed cocktails, and bantered with customers. This was the woman he'd spent fifty years dreaming about, the one who could light up a room and cheer everyone up just by being herself.

She'd vanished for a while, had been buried beneath layers of trauma and wariness, but tonight she had resurfaced in her full glory.

This was the Fenella he remembered—vibrant, quick-witted, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased the patrons. When she laughed, the sound carried across the crowded room, bright and uninhibited.

She was radiant.

"Earth to Din," a familiar voice said, breaking through his reverie.

Din blinked, turning to find Max standing beside his table with Kyra at his side. He hadn't even noticed them enter the Hobbit.

"Mind if we join you?" Max asked, pulling one of the barrel-shaped stools from a nearby table that must have been vacated while Din had been daydreaming.

"Please do," Din said.

"She looks like she's having oodles of fun," Kyra said as she settled onto the stool Max brought for her.

"She was always magnetic behind a bar."

"I remember," Max said with a smirk.

Din chose to ignore the reminder that Max had enjoyed Fenella back then. Their renewed friendship was too fresh to test with old rivalries. Besides, Max was happily mated now, his days of competing for female attention long behind him.

Fenella approached their table, a tray of drinks balanced expertly on one hand. "Well, well," she said, looking from Din to the newcomers. "The cavalry has arrived."

"We came to cheer you on," Kyra said. "Though it looks like you don't need it. The place is packed."

"Word travels fast about a new bartender who can read your deepest secrets from your pocket lint," Fenella said, distributing the drinks—beer for Max, a whiskey for Kyra, and a fresh beer for Din that he hadn't even ordered yet.

"How are you holding up?" Din asked.

"Fabulously." Fenella's eyes sparkled with amusement. "No one's been handsy, belligerent, or insulting. The toughest challenge was keeping up with the orders."

"The night is still young," Max said.

That earned him an elbow in the ribs from Kyra. "Don't jinx it," she warned.

"It wouldn't be a proper first night without at least one minor catastrophe," Fenella said, not sounding concerned in the slightest. "Though this crowd seems too well-behaved for anything even a little dramatic."

Din reached for her hand and pulled her to sit on his knee. "Your psychic act is a hit."

Fenella laughed. "I'm simply communicating what the objects tell me. It's not my fault if people's possessions are shockingly indiscreet about their owners' embarrassing habits."

"Right," Din drawled, not fooled for a moment. "What about Markus practicing naked yoga on the roof of his house?"

"His tie was very forthcoming about it," Fenella insisted with mock solemnity. "Practically begged me to tell everyone."

Their banter was interrupted as the door swung open, and Jasmine and Ell-rom walked in. The Kra-ell royal looked somewhat out of place in the rustic, Tolkien-inspired setting, his regal bearing and ethereal features marking him as distinctly alien despite his immortal-style beauty and casual attire. Yet no one paid him much attention. The village inhabitants had grown accustomed to him and his sister and all the other Kra-ell hybrids and purebloods living among them.

"Looks like a family gathering," Fenella observed as the couple made their way toward their table. "Should I expect the sisters and all thirteen kids next?"

"God, I hope not," Kyra said. "We're still working on public outings with them. Arezoo's the only one who's ventured out on her own so far."

"She's enjoying working at the café," Jasmine said as she and Ell-rom pulled more stools to the table.

"Like aunt, like niece," Fenella said with a wink. "Now, much as I'd love to stay and chat, duty calls. Holler if you need anything."

As she rose to her feet and returned to the bar, Din couldn't tear his eyes away from her. The sway of her hips, the confident set of her shoulders, the way she flicked her hair over her shoulder as she laughed at something someone said—every movement was mesmerizing.

"You've got it so bad," Max teased.

"Is it that obvious?" Din asked.

"You look like a starving man staring at a feast," Ell-rom said bluntly.

Din winced. "I'm trying to keep a low profile. She already thinks I'm smothering her."

Kyra frowned. "Did she say that?"

"She called it stifling. I wanted to stay here with her tonight to make sure no one gave her trouble, and she told me that I was hovering."

"Well, what would you call sitting here in the corner all night long?" Jasmine asked.

Din started to deny it, then reconsidered. "I worry about her. After everything she's been through..."

"She's not made of glass," Kyra said gently. "Trust me on this. The worst thing after suffering a trauma is being treated like you might shatter at any moment."

"I know." Din ran a hand through his hair, a habit when frustrated. "I just want to protect her."

"And she appreciates it," Jasmine assured him. "But she also needs space to find herself again. To remember who she was before all the bad stuff happened."

Din nodded toward the bar where Fenella was now entertaining a group of Guardians with an elaborate tale involving one of their watches. "She seems to be doing a fine job of that on her own."

"Just be there when she wants you," Max said. "Give her room when she doesn't."

Din nodded. "When you are right, you're right."

"So, when do you go back to Scotland?" Ell-rom asked, changing the subject.

Din tore his gaze away from Fenella. "I took two weeks off for a so-called family emergency, but..." He hesitated, the decision crystallizing in his mind as he spoke. "I don't think I'm going back. Not permanently, anyway."

"What about your students?" Jasmine asked. "Your research?"

"The term ends in a few weeks. My assistant can administer the final exams, and I can grade them remotely." Din took a sip of his beer, considering his options. "After that, I could request a sabbatical."

"And then what?" Max pressed. "You'll move to the village?"

"Where else? But I haven't discussed any of it with Fenella yet. I still need to see where this is going. If things don't work out between us, I'll be on the first flight back to Scotland. I wouldn't be able to tolerate seeing her with someone else."

Max looked away.

"It's going to work out between you," Jasmine said. "But don't make any rash decisions. Let things unfold naturally."

Din couldn't argue with that logic. He was contemplating major life changes based on a relationship that was barely a week old. Yet it didn't feel new—it felt like the continuation of something that had started half a century ago, been interrupted, but never truly ended.

"It would be foolish of me to burn bridges," he said. "That's why I was thinking about finishing the academic year remotely and waiting with the request for a sabbatical. But I can't wait too long."

A burst of laughter drew Din's attention back to the bar, where Fenella was now entertaining a group of patrons with another hilarious 'psychic reading' of a pencil.

"She's brilliant," Jasmine said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "She's transformed her inconsistent psychometric ability into entertainment, turning a potential liability into an asset."

"She's always been quick on her feet," Din said, pride swelling in his chest.

He watched as Fenella moved on to her next victim, a guy who handed over a ring with dramatic reluctance. She held it up to the light, narrowed her eyes, and gasped theatrically.

"This ring has witnessed a secret talent," she announced to the delighted crowd. "Our brave Guardian here has a hidden passion for..." She paused for effect, "competitive ballroom dancing! In cowboy boots!"

The Guardian's face contorted with a mix of horror and amusement. "That's absurd!"

"The ring never lies," Fenella insisted, her expression perfectly serious despite the mischief dancing in her eyes. "I'm quite impressed with your tango, though your foxtrot needs work."

The Guardian's friends howled with laughter, clapping him on the back as he shook his head in good-natured denial.

"She's found her perfect audience." Max chuckled. "Immortals who've lived long enough to appreciate a good tall tale."

Din nodded, his eyes never leaving Fenella as she continued her performance. This was the woman he remembered—the bright spark of life that had drawn him to her all those years ago, the wit and warmth that had haunted his dreams ever since.

And in that moment, watching her shine amidst the laughter and camaraderie of the village pub, Din realized he was falling in love with her all over again, not with the memory or the fantasy he'd carried for fifty years, but with the actual woman before him—complex, wounded, resilient, and utterly captivating.

The Fenella of his memories had been a sketch, a partial impression based on limited interaction. The real Fenella was a masterpiece—layered, textured, more vivid and more complicated than he could have imagined.

He still had so much to learn about her, though.

She kept so much bottled up that she was not ready to share with him yet. The decades she'd spent wandering, the traumas she'd endured, the strengths she'd developed along the way—these were all parts of her story he had yet to discover. But he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted that chance, wanted to uncover every facet of who she had become.