Page 3 of Definitely Dead (Happily Ever Afterlife #1)

Chapter three

D rowning in an ocean of conflicting and unfamiliar emotions, Tyr couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Nothing made sense, but at the same time, he had the unshakeable conviction that his entire life had been leading to this moment.

Long-buried instincts clawed their way to the surface, each one vying for dominance. A possessiveness of this stranger with an aura as sunny as his name. A fierce protectiveness that made his vow to the Nightstar family look like a pinky promise in comparison.

And the absolute certainty that this vibrant human would change him in irrevocable ways.

“Well, shit.” Turning to Sunne, Rune rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I hope you were planning to stay.”

Tyr waited, his heart pounding, for Sunne’s answer.

But his mate didn’t respond. Instead, eyes the color of melted chocolate bore into him, assessing him, as if Sunne could see every secret written in his soul.

Finally, he looked away, his gaze flickering to Rune, and he nodded. “I’m staying.” He gestured to the girl beside him. “She’s not.”

A strand of glossy black hair fell over one eye when he moved his head, and Tyr had the insane urge to reach out and brush it away, offended that it obstructed his view. Guessing his touch would be unwelcome given the circumstances, he curled his fingers into a fist and rooted his feet to the hard stones beneath his boots.

With a nod, Rune crossed the narrow street to stand beside the female. “Come on, kid.” He jerked his head to the side, toward the river. “I have a feeling things are about to get messy.”

To her credit, she didn’t immediately agree. Stepping past him, she stopped right in front of Sunne, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. I would take it back if I could.”

Sunne smiled and shook his head. “Actually, I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” He didn’t turn, but he sent a brief glance at Tyr from the corner of his eye. “Go find your dad.”

The girl bit her lip, clearly uncertain.

“Really,” Sunne assured her. “Everything is fine. I’ll probably even see you in a few days.”

Tyr couldn’t tell if he really thought that or if he had said it for her benefit. He really hoped it was the latter.

Hades had agreed to let him and the other Guardians remain in the Underworld with Orrin…under one condition. They could never cross the river. The god hadn’t said why, nor had he elaborated on what would happen if they broke the rule.

None of them wanted to find out, though.

“I’m going to hug her,” Sunne told him, his eyebrows winging toward his hairline. “Don’t growl.”

Tyr could only nod. He had nothing personal against the teenager. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. He just didn’t particularly like her touching his mate. Despite knowing how irrational that sounded, after being sucker punched by fate, it didn’t really change anything.

But he could keep it together while they said goodbye. As long as Sunne didn’t make it a habit of hugging strangers, it would be fine. Probably.

As he waited—every cell in his body on lockdown—it occurred to him that it should have felt weird being mated to a dead guy. Mostly, however, he just hated that he hadn’t been able to prevent Sunne’s fate. And sure, if the guy had been a ghost without a corporeal body, maybe things would be different.

Thankfully, in the Underworld, souls pretty much existed the same way they had in life. The Tower even had indoor plumbing. No one knew exactly how it worked. Like everything else, it just did.

“You’re an Otherling,” Sunne said once the girl had disappeared down the hill with Rune.

It wasn’t a question, but Tyr nodded anyway.

“Shifter?”

Technically correct. He nodded again.

“Not a regular shifter, though.” Sunne smiled and took a step toward him. “I’ve never seen a shifter’s eyes glow like that.”

Tyr grunted his approval. His mate was perceptive, and he seemed to have a better understanding of Otherlings than a lot of humans.

“No, not a regular shifter,” he confirmed. “I guess you would call me a berserker. A bear shifter—”

“With magic,” Sunne finished for him, his eyes rounding. “That’s pretty badass.”

Yes, but not in the way the guy probably meant it. The intrinsic magic that flowed through him let him heal in real time, making him nearly indestructible. He was faster, stronger, and more powerful than even his fellow Otherlings, but he couldn’t cast spells or move objects with a flick of his wrist.

Sunne shoved one hand into the pocket of his jeans and rubbed his other up and down his arm. “I just work at a library. Well, I used to.” Sadness flickered across his face, and he shook his head. “Poor Miss Opal.”

Tyr frowned. “The girl?”

“No.” In response, he laughed in a quiet, musical way. “The girl is Lizzie. Miss Opal is the head librarian. Between you and me, she kind of looks like she died years ago, and someone reanimated her corpse. She is still very much alive, though.”

Tyr’s lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but he found his mate’s conspiratorial tone amusing. The male had a gift for words, and it seemed fitting that he had worked with books before his death. He had never met this Miss Opal, but he could picture her clearly from Sunne’s description.

“And you’re worried about her?” he asked, trying to understand what had elicited the moment of sadness.

“Not her exactly.” Sunne rounded his shoulders and rubbed more vigorously at his arm. “I’m more worried about what this might do to the library.” A sigh bubbled from his lips, and he shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

He assumed “this” was in reference to Sunne’s death, which he now guessed had happened at his place of work. And it somehow involved a teenage girl? Not the strangest way someone had ever died, but he did have questions.

All of which could wait.

“You’re cold.”

Everyone acclimated after a while, but he remembered how uncomfortable it had been in the beginning. It wasn’t a normal cold either. It didn’t cause goosebumps or turn breath into smoke. It didn’t freeze the water or fog the windows.

It was the kind of cold that burned, that burrowed beneath the skin and numbed the bones. The kind of cold that lingered in the soul long after the physical pain had passed.

“A little,” Sunne answered with an embarrassed grin that made his nose scrunch.

He didn’t have a coat or a blanket to offer, but he could provide him shelter and something warm to drink.

“Follow me.”

He wanted to take Sunne’s hand, maybe wrap an arm around him to shield him from the brutal cold. He did neither of those things. Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode down the alleyway.

By the gods, he had never felt so fucking inadequate. He would eviscerate anyone who dared to breathe wrong at his mate, but he couldn’t even give him a moment of gentleness. He had been trained for battle, for violence. No one had ever taught him how to love someone.

Love?

Damn, he was getting ahead of himself. They had met five minutes ago, and he didn’t even know the guy’s last name. In fact, he knew almost nothing about him. Just enough to realize that he didn’t deserve him, but he also couldn’t walk away.

“Hey, Tyr. It’s Tyr, right?” Footsteps padded behind him, scuffing the stones and scattering debris. “Wait up. Where are we going?”

“The diner.”

Cian always had a fire burning inside for newcomers, along with a warm smile and a hot cup of coffee. He figured Orrin would still be there as well, and the prince would be able to give Sunne what he couldn’t.

Answers.

Reassurance.

A spark of light in the darkness.

“There’s a diner here? For dead people? Do dead people eat? Can I eat?”

“Yes, you can eat.” Stepping out of the alley, he turned onto the main street, a smile playing over his lips. No one ever asked these types of questions. “The food is kind of terrible, though, so I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

Sunne laughed, the sound smooth as honey and just as sweet. “Bummer. I guess I’ll have to give up my cinnamon roll addiction.”

“You like cinnamon rolls?” He would have to ask Helen about stocking them in the bakery. And whoever else he needed to talk to about getting the ingredients.

“More than like.” Sunne chuckled again. “It’s a bit of a problem, really. I—oh.”

Alerted by his gasp and the sound of his feet scraping across the road, Tyr turned just in time to catch him when he tripped over a loose stone and stumbled forward.

“Nice save.” He didn’t pull away immediately but tilted his head back, his eyes wide, and his cheeks a delicate shade of pink. “Thank you.”

Gods, the male felt amazing, a solid, comforting weight against his chest, and he fit so perfectly against him, like he had always belonged there. That close, he was even more beautiful, more radiant, and the scent of sun-kissed wildflowers poured off him, filling Tyr’s head and invading his senses.

The fragrance brought to mind the fields he’d played in as a child. Of warm days and misty nights on the fjords. Of a place he hadn’t seen in centuries.

It reminded him of…home.

“Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

Though he looked like he wanted to say something, after a moment, Sunne bit his bottom lip and nodded. He still didn’t pull away, though. Instead, he stayed pressed to Tyr’s side as they navigated the twisted street to the diner.

Whether for warmth, comfort, or something else, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to question it. Not when it felt so damn right.

“So, how does all this work?” Sunne asked.

Tyr sighed. He hated the question, and honestly, he had expected more originality from his mate. Still, he couldn’t fault him, and he found that, coming from Sunne, the inquiry didn’t annoy him as much as it usually did.

“Typically, souls arrive and take the ferry across the river. There, they’ll be judged and—”

“No, I get that,” Sunne interrupted. “I mean, this place.” He waved a hand toward the row of buildings. “There are probably thousands of souls here, right? So, where is everyone?”

A slow smile stretched his lips, and he had the insane urge to laugh. Sunne wasn’t like the others, and he never should have doubted him. Instead of the same boring, canned questions, his mate wanted to know the secrets behind the curtains. Tyr liked that.

“Most of them have already turned in for the night, but there are a few still out and about.” As an example, he pointed to the wide window of the tavern. “See?”

“It’s nighttime?” Tilting his head back, Sunne stared up at the obsidian sky. “How can you tell? And where the hell is the light coming from?”

This time, Tyr couldn’t help himself. He did laugh. Quiet, rusty from disuse, but a laugh all the same.

“You get used to it after a while, and as for the light?” Despite no obvious source, a pale, ethereal glow illuminated everything from the town to the river, blanketing the village in endless twilight. “No one knows. It just is . You’ll find a lot of things are like that here.”

“So, you’re saying this place provides what people need? When they need it?”

Tyr paused and stared down at his mate. “It would seem so.”

He had been floundering, sinking in his own futility. Then magic, fate, the Underworld, or something infinitely more mysterious—he didn’t know, and he didn’t care—had given him exactly what he needed.

Even if the delivery had been somewhat unconventional.

Sunne stared back, eyes round and unblinking. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about bags of rice and paper napkins?”

“Because you’re perceptive.” Tightening his arm around Sunne’s shoulders, he started walking again, ushering him down the street. “We’re almost there.”

They continued in agreeable silence, but as they approached the diner, Sunne stiffened and slowed his pace.

“What’s wrong?”

“Umm, that guy is staring at us.”

Leaning against the corner of the hut, arms folded across his chest, Aster tracked them through narrowed eyes as he raked a calculating gaze over Sunne. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since Tyr had left him at the back booth, yet there he was. Apparently, Orrin hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped.

“Do you know him?” Sunne asked.

Tyr sighed. “He’s new here. Arrived just before you did.”

“Oh, that sucks.” He still held himself rigidly, and he pressed more heavily against Tyr’s side. “Why is he glaring at me like I stole his lunch?”

“Maybe he thinks you’re someone else,” he lied. Whatever Aster’s problem, he had no desire to make it his own.

“Picked up another stray?” Aster called, pushing away from the building.

“I’m Sunne.” Standing straighter, he pushed his hand out in offering. “I’m new here, too.”

“Hey, sunshine. I’m Aster.” He took the proffered hand, a smile curving his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must be something special.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Pulling his arm back, Sunne pressed against Tyr’s side again. “There’s nothing special about me. I’m not even an Otherling.”

Aster’s gaze flashed to Tyr, then back. “Yeah, well, you got a warmer welcome than I did.”

Sunne might not be an Otherling, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t special. Even if the human hadn’t been his mate, Tyr still would have preferred him to Aster. That wasn’t Sunne’s fault, though, and if the asshole had an issue with it, he could take it up with him.

Before he could open his mouth to tell the mage exactly where he could stick his opinions, Sunne spoke again.

“That sucks, and I feel for you, I do. But if you don’t stop eye-fucking my mate, that’s going to be the least of your worries.”

Tyr turned away to hide his grin, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking with silent laughter. The outburst had been completely unexpected, but not in the least unwarranted.

He anticipated anger from Aster, maybe a snarky quip. When he looked back, however, the witch wore a genuine, almost admiring expression.

“I like you.” Then he walked away, continuing down the street, a quiet chuckle echoing behind him.

“Oh, my god.” Sunne buried his face in his hands with a groan. “What is wrong with me? Why did I just say that?”

If he had to guess, he’d say the thinly veiled threat had manifested from their mating bond. While not noble in the least, knowing the guy felt just as territorial over him filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Still, probably not what Sunne wanted to hear right then.

“He tends to have that effect on people.” Leaving it at that, he rubbed Sunne’s arm in comfort—the little gestures becoming easier by the second—and guided him to the entrance of the diner. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tyr chuckled again but didn’t comment.

Inside the shop, he led Sunne over to the fireplace on the far wall, the tension in his neck easing when his mate sighed and held his hands out to the flames. Grabbing one of the threadbare blankets from the back of a wooden chair, he wrapped it around the male’s shoulders and encouraged him to sit.

“Wait here.”

Sunne snapped his head up, his eyes too big, too pleading.

“Stay by the fire.” Unable to resist, he pressed his palm to the side of his mate’s face, cradling his delicate cheek and loving the way Sunne leaned into the touch. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“Okay.” Before he could pull away, Sunne grabbed him by the wrist, holding him in place. “Thank you.”

Uncomfortable with the gratitude, Tyr grunted and dipped his head before going to find Orrin. While he got the impression that Sunne understood the significance of the connection between them, they still needed to talk about the M-bomb that fate had dropped in their laps.

Then he could explain that Sunne didn’t need to thank him. He didn’t even need to ask. Whatever he needed or wanted, it was already his.

On his way to the back booth, he paused at the counter and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Can you get him some coffee?”

Cian’s gaze flickered to the fireplace. “Of course. Sugar? Cream?”

“Uh…” Damn, he didn’t know. And he hated that he didn’t know. “He likes cinnamon rolls.”

The shopkeeper’s eyebrows drew together before a knowing expression settled over his face. “I’ll take care of it.”

Tyr rapped his knuckles against the battered countertop as he walked away. “Thanks.”

“Hello again,” Orrin said with a quiet chuckle when he arrived at the booth. “Another soul?”

“Yes.”

Orrin nodded and motioned toward the bench seat on the other side of the table. “Bring them over.”

“No.” Clearing his throat, Tyr tried again, minus the growl this time. “He’s cold.”

The prince eyed him for a moment before looking toward the fireplace with a frown. “I see.”

He didn’t comment on the odd behavior, though he had clearly clocked it. Tyr never personally escorted souls to the diner. When they followed him, like Aster, he passed them off to Orrin without drama or fanfare. Not once during all their time in the Underworld had it been any other way.

He sure as hell never demanded the Nightstar prince and Guardian of Lost Souls go to a new resident instead of the other way around.

“In that case, let’s not keep him waiting.” Rising gracefully, Orrin shook out his long robes and nodded. “Lead the way.”

Relieved by the easy response, he strode back across the room to Sunne’s side, leaving Orrin to follow after him at a more leisurely pace. Grabbing two extra chairs from a nearby table, he placed one right next to his mate and the other a little farther away.

Orrin might be his prince, and he trusted the male with his life, but until he got a better handle on his emotions, it would be better for him to keep his distance.

“Cian is bringing coffee.” He settled into his seat and pulled the ends of the blanket more securely around Sunne’s shoulders. “Are you hungry?” The food didn’t taste the best, but it was filling. “Maybe some soup?”

Grinning, Sunne took his hand, cradling it between both of his own. “Coffee is fine for now. Thank you.”

Orrin arrived then, his gaze going from their clasped hands to the chair Tyr had placed a few feet away. When he looked back, there was a gleam in his gray eyes, but he simply offered Sunne a slight bow of his head and took his seat.

“Oh, hi.” He shifted around to face the prince, but he didn’t release Tyr’s hand. “I’m Sunne.”

“Sunne, this is Pr—uh, Orrin.” He shrugged when the elf arched an eyebrow at him. “He’s kind of in charge around here.”

Orrin snorted delicately. “That’s a generous description. I just help souls cross the river.”

Inching closer to Tyr’s side, Sunne shook his head. “I don’t want to cross the river. I want to stay here.”

Orrin’s smile was kind, if a little sad. “I understand why you feel that way, but—”

“No.” Sunne shook his head again, his fingers biting into Tyr’s hand. “I won’t cross.”

Tyr felt torn. On one hand, he had just found his mate, and he would fight the mortal world, the Underworld, and every realm in between to keep him. On the flip side of that, however, he knew what Orrin had been trying to say.

Sunne didn’t belong there.

And the only reason he stayed…was for him.

“Very well,” Orrin said after a long silence.

He held his hand out, producing what looked like an old-fashioned skeleton key with a leather tag. The numbers 7714 glowed across the back of the tanned hide, the ghostly blue light glinting off the bronze metal.

Sunne didn’t reach for it. “What is that?”

“If you’re staying—” Orrin glanced at Tyr, his expression unreadable. “—you’ll need a place to live.”

“Really? I can stay?” He wasn’t looking at the prince, though. He stared up at Tyr, his face shining with hope.

Though it made him a selfish bastard, he couldn’t say no. Oh, he should. If he had any honor at all, he absolutely would. Sunne deserved so much better than a bleak half-existence in the village, but he couldn’t send him away. Not now. Not when his mate smiled at him like that.

“Yes, lelien. ” He brushed a strand of hair away from Sunne’s brow and caressed his cheek, his heart aching at how absolutely perfect he was. “You can stay.”