Page 42 of Dark Rover’s Luck (The Children Of The Gods #95)

42

FENELLA

"L ast call!" Fenella shouted over the noise of the crowd, her voice hoarse from hours of conversation and laughter.

The announcement was met with a chorus of groans and protests.

Despite the late hour, the Hobbit remained packed, the atmosphere electric with conversation and periodic bursts of song.

"Come on," a guy called from the corner. "One more round!"

"You've had enough, Niko." Fenella laughed.

He'd been one of the most enthusiastic participants in the impromptu singing contest that had broken out an hour earlier. Max had won it hands down.

"You heard the lady," Atzil announced. "Time to go home. We're closed, but the good news is that we are open tomorrow, and you are all invited to return."

The complaints grew louder, but they were good-natured.

People were just reluctant to end the fun and accept closing time, which Fenella regarded as a great success. A bar emptying on its own was a sign that the atmosphere needed a boost.

"Will Fenella be here tomorrow?" someone shouted from the back.

"You can count on it," she said. "It was a pleasure serving you all tonight, and, hopefully, I will see you all tomorrow."

That seemed to mollify some of the more reluctant patrons, who began shuffling toward the door. Others required more persuasion, with Atzil 'helping' them politely but firmly out the door.

"I had no idea immortals could get so drunk," Fenella said. "Or sing so many lewd Scottish ballads. I don't remember them from when I was working back home."

"They make up new ones as they go." Din walked over to the bar and sat down on one of the recently vacated barstools. "You were amazing tonight."

Fenella rewarded the compliment with a broad smile. "I had fun."

"Evidently." Din leaned over the bar and kissed her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

She shook her head. "There's a lot of cleanup to be done before Atzil and I can call it a night. But you don't have to stay and watch me cleaning." She grabbed a rag and walked around the bar.

"No, but I can help." Din started rolling up his sleeves.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. The sooner it is done, the sooner you can go home."

Atzil returned from depositing two particularly inebriated patrons outside.

It was good that no one was driving home, or it would have been dangerous to just kick them out like that.

Fenella wouldn't be surprised if she found them sleeping on benches along the way.

Might actually do them some good.

"Finally." Atzil flipped the sign on the door to 'Closed.' "Successful first night, I'd say."

"Indeed," Fenella agreed. "But I'm going to be feeling it in my muscles tomorrow. Being immortal doesn't help with that."

Atzil started collecting empty glasses and beer bottles from the tables. "First night's always the hardest." He turned to Din. "I don't remember hiring you."

"I volunteered."

Atzil grinned. "I won't say no to free labor."

Fenella watched Din with a mix of appreciation and fondness as he worked in tandem with her and Atzil.

They'd gotten into a rhythm, with Atzil clearing tables, her wiping them down, and Din piling the stools on top to clear the floor for mopping.

For an archaeology professor, he seemed remarkably at home with menial work.

"Your mate's handy to have around," Atzil said as Din ducked into the back room to grab a mop.

"He's not my mate," Fenella said automatically, then reconsidered. "We are just getting to know each other."

Atzil raised an eyebrow, but before he could come up with a retort, Din appeared with the mop and went to work.

"How much did we make tonight?" Fenella asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"More than usual for a Friday," Atzil said. "Your psychic act was quite the draw."

"It wasn't an act," Fenella insisted with mock seriousness. "I was merely communicating vital information from inanimate objects."

"Right," Atzil drawled. "And I'm a hobbit who's very tall for my kind."

"The look on Karin's face when you 'revealed' her secret underwater knitting hobby..." Din chuckled, pausing in his mopping. "Priceless."

"She does have very pruney fingers," Fenella said. "The evidence was right there for anyone to see."

"And Marcus with the ballroom dancing?" Atzil added. "He nearly fell off his stool."

"Maybe because it was true. His pupils dilated when I revealed it as if he was surprised that I found out his secret hobby."

Atzil's booming laughter echoed in the emptiness of the bar. "I'll take the trash to the incinerator." He hefted two large bags. "You two finish up in here."

As he left through the back door, Fenella was left alone with Din for the first time in hours. She watched him as he finished mopping, looking as fresh and as put together as he had been at the start of the night. The guy had a gift for looking composed no matter the circumstances.

"Thank you for helping." She broke the silence. "I'd forgotten how exhausting a night of bartending can be."

Din looked up, a smile warming his features. "I'm more than happy to help. But tell me the truth. What was more tiring, the entertaining or the actual bartending?"

"Equal measures." Fenella leaned against the counter.

"You were amazing," Din said, and there was something in his tone that made her cheeks heat up. "The queen of the night. You had them eating out of your hand."

"It's just part of being a good bartender," Fenella said, deflecting the compliment. "Half of what people pay for is the show. Some bartenders do that with fancy bottle acrobatics, which I do well, and some tell jokes or make up stories about what they supposedly heard from former customers."

He chuckled. "I didn't know those were made-up stories. I thought they were real. Still, I'm sure that not everyone can invent outrageous stories on the spot like you do."

"I surprised myself. I guess the years of constantly changing identities and reinventing myself helped me develop a talent for storytelling."

Din's expression softened into something that looked dangerously like sympathy. "Thankfully, you don't have to do that anymore. You are finally safe."

"Who says I feel safe?" she murmured.

The words emerged more honest than she'd intended, hanging in the air between them. Fenella hadn't meant to reveal that persistent feeling that safety was an illusion that could shatter at any moment, even here, even in the immortals' village.

Shit happened, and it usually didn't come with warning bells, and even if it did, people tended to ignore the sounds until it was too late.

Din set the mop aside and walked over to her. "The village is the safest place you could be in, and people here care about you."

Fenella knew he meant it kindly, but something in his certainty pricked at her. "I had people who cared about me in Scotland, too," she said. "That didn't stop what happened. I've gotten immortality out of it, but at what price? The years I could have spent with my family that I can never recover, the endless roving and fear of being discovered."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound dismissive of your concerns."

His immediate acknowledgment of her perspective disarmed her, the apology easing the defensive tension that had begun to build. "It's fine. I know the village is safe, but that doesn't mean nothing bad can ever happen here. You have all these security measures in place for a reason."

He nodded. "Good point. Perhaps a better way to state it is that the village is as secure as it gets, but there are no guarantees that nothing bad will ever happen here."

The sound of the door opening startled her, but it was only Atzil.

"All done?" he asked.

"The bar's clean, glasses are stacked in the dishwasher, and Din has mopped the entire floor."

"Excellent," Atzil said. "We make a good team."

"We do," Fenella agreed.

Atzil clapped her gently on the back. "Time to go home, girl. Tomorrow is another day."

Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing after hours in the warm, crowded bar. Stars blanketed the sky above the village, more visible now than on any of the previous nights.

"Well, I'm off to collapse in bed for a few hours." Atzil locked the door behind them. "You did a great job tonight, Fenella. I'll see you tomorrow at seven?"

"I'll be here," she confirmed.

He offered his hand to Din. "Thanks for the free labor. You're invited to volunteer every night."

Din chuckled. "I just might."

Wasn't going to happen, but Fenella was too tired to argue with Din about it now. It could wait for the morning.

"I'm looking forward to more psychic revelations tomorrow," Atzil said with a grin. "Goodnight, you two."

As he walked away and Fenella was left alone with Din, the adrenaline that had sustained her throughout the evening started to ebb, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Without thinking, she leaned against him, her head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked, his arm coming around her waist.

"Completely drained," she admitted. "But in a good way."

They started toward Shira's place at an easy pace. The village was quiet at this hour; most residents had long since retired for the night, and surprisingly, there were no drunks sprawled on the benches they were passing by.

"I've been thinking," Din said.

"A dangerous pastime," Fenella murmured.

He chuckled. "Perhaps. But necessary."

Something in his tone made her glance up at his face, trying to read his expression in the dim light of the moon and stars. "What about?"

"I'm in love with you, Fenella."

The declaration stopped her in her tracks. She pulled away to look at him, searching his expression to see if he expected her to tell him that she loved him back.

"I don't need you to say it to me," he added quickly. "That's not why I'm telling you. I just wanted you to know where I stand. You can take all the time you need."

A jumble of emotions tumbled through her. Part of her wanted to flee from the intensity of his declaration, while another part yearned to believe in the possibility he was offering and grab on to it.

"You claimed to be in love with me fifty years ago," she said finally, resuming their walk. "But it couldn't have been true then because you didn't know me. Don't fall into the trap of falling in love with the notion of love. We are just getting to know each other, and one day this relationship could blossom into love, but we are not there yet."

She was acutely aware of how painful it must be for him to hear, but one of them needed to be the voice of reason, and it seemed that the task had fallen to her.

"You're right," Din admitted, falling into step beside her. "What I felt then wasn't really love. It was infatuation, fascination, desire—but not love. I didn't know you well enough."

"And you do now?" Fenella challenged.

"I know you better now. And every new facet I discover only deepens my feelings for you." He paused. "But I know you're nowhere near ready to say those words back to me, and that's okay. I can wait."

Part of her wanted to deflect with humor or sarcasm, her usual defenses against emotional vulnerability, but Din deserved better than reflexive deflection.

"It's been a very long time since I allowed myself to get close enough to even try to feel anything."

"I understand," Din said, and she believed he did. "There's no rush."

They walked a bit further in silence, the path winding between the village's charming homes and lush greenery.

"The birthday party tomorrow should be fun," Fenella said to defuse the tension that had settled between them. "Jasmine says half the village has been involved in planning it and that everyone is going to participate."

"Immortals don't usually celebrate birthdays, but it's Allegra's first, and since she was born on Kian's two thousandth birthday, Syssi decided that a joint party was the way to go. Perhaps it will become a new village tradition." Din reached for her hand. "We are still writing our customs and traditions. Perhaps there will be a new one based on your fake readings. It could be a competition for who can make up the most outlandish stories."

"It could be fun." She sighed. "The truth is that I don't know what I want yet. I'm still figuring out who I am now, and if this latest cycle of reinventing myself will be the last."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Finding a safe haven doesn't mean that you have to stick to whatever role you want to play right now. You can keep reinventing yourself as many times as you want. Take me, for example. I wasn't always defined as a stuffy professor."

"You're not a stuffy professor." She turned to him, wound her arms around his neck, and stretched on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You are the hunky professor all the female students fantasize about."

He took over the kiss, deepening it, and when they came up for air, he rested his forehead against hers. "I only care about the fantasies of one feisty bartender. No one else's."

* * *

Later, when Fenella was standing under the spray in the shower, she thought about Din's declaration of love and how it complicated things. Surprisingly, she didn't feel the urge to run from the complication as she would have expected. Instead, she was cautiously circling it, examining it from different angles, considering possibilities she'd long since abandoned.

She had a job she loved, a newfound family to get to know, and a man who looked at her like she was the answer to a question he'd been asking for centuries. It wasn't a bad position to be in, all things considered.

The future, for once, held more promise than threat. And that, perhaps, was the most surprising development of all.

COMING UP NEXT

The Children of the Gods Book 96

Dark Rover’s Gift

Fenella has led the life of a nomad, wandering the world, relying solely on herself, and encountering hardships that left deep emotional scars. Now, safe in the immortals' village, she uncovers an unexpected connection and a hidden talent that may inspire her to finally put down roots.