Page 4 of Definitely Dead (Happily Ever Afterlife #1)

Chapter four

C urled up in the reading nook of his new apartment, Sunne flipped the next page in his book and smiled.

When Tyr had told him the Underworld provided what the residents needed, he had been picturing basic accommodations and maybe a hot meal twice a day. What he had actually received went beyond anything he could have imagined.

In life, he had rented an overpriced studio apartment with a kitchenette and an air conditioner that frequently stopped working in the middle of the summer.

In death, he had upgraded to a fully furnished, one-bedroom unit that boasted a real kitchen and a shower that didn’t make him want to launch himself out of a window. Decorated in his favorite colors of teal and black with bright pops of silver and gold, it wasn’t just an apartment.

It was his sanctuary.

He didn’t know how any of it worked. The lamps that shined without bulbs. The stove that cooked without gas or electricity. The hot water that streamed from the showerhead despite a lack of adequate plumbing. None of it made sense.

The moment he had stepped into the warmth of Unit 7714 and spotted the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lined with all his favorite titles, he had decided not to question it. If the Underworld wanted him to have pizzas in his freezer and a king-sized bed that cradled him like an old lover, who was he to refuse?

Although finding an obscenely large bottle of lube among the other toiletries in the en suite had been a bit of a shock. Grateful, but also ridiculously embarrassed, he had stashed it in the cabinet beneath the sink before Tyr could see it.

While it would probably sound unhinged to most people, being blasted out of the library and into the afterlife had been one of the best things to ever happen to him. Sure, never seeing the sun again kind of sucked, and he absolutely detested the cold, but if he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have met his mate.

And if an eternity of darkness was the price he had to pay to be with the Guardian, he would do so happily and without complaint.

In the three days since he had dropped into the village, Tyr hadn’t left his side. In fact, it had gotten to the point that even his semi-sentient apartment had decided the guy lived there now.

It had been little things at first, like extra space in the closet, beer in the fridge, and a second toothbrush on the bathroom vanity. Then the place itself had started to change. Everything from the cabinets to the chairs had been raised by at least three inches. The doorways had expanded, and splashes of cerulean had started creeping into the color palette.

Just that morning, he had awoken to find a heavy cedar chest beside the front door, the inside filled with swords, daggers, and other weapons he couldn’t name. He didn’t know why the shifter needed a whole arsenal at his disposal, but Tyr had seemed happy about it, so he hadn’t said anything.

“Hey, lelien , are you ready?”

He sighed through his nose, and his heart beat a little faster as a shivery feeling spread through him, just like it always did when Tyr called him by the endearment. The first time he had asked what it meant, his mate had deflected the question. Eventually, however, he had confessed that it came from an old magical dialect and loosely translated to “my soul.”

While he found the meaning beautiful and quite fitting given the circumstances, the word itself didn’t matter. He liked it because it made him feel special, because Tyr had chosen it for him and only him.

“I’m ready.”

Closing his book, he placed it on the window seat and stood, stretching his arms over his head to loosen the tight muscles in his back. It was little things like that—sore muscles, racing pulse, the occasional yawn—that still weirded him out. He had spent hours trying to identify something different about himself, but everything still functioned the way it always had. In short, he didn’t feel dead.

In fact, he had never felt more alive.

“Why are we going to the pier?” he asked as he pulled on a pair of fur-lined boots. Tyr kept assuring him he would get used to the cold, but so far, that hadn’t happened.

“It’s supply day.” Removing a black wool coat from a hook by the door, Tyr held it up for him to slip his arms into.

“Oh, cool. Who brings it?”

“Technically? No one. We don’t know where it comes from.” Tyr shrugged as he pulled the door open and ushered him across the threshold. “But every seven days, a new drop appears at the dock without fail.”

“Well, who places the order?” Surely that person had a contact or some idea where the materials came from.

His mate chuckled, the sound lighter and more natural than it had been when they’d first met. “There’s no order. No special requests. The shopkeepers just have to take what they can get.”

“Why?” Frankly, it sounded dumb. “My apartment supplies everything I want before I even know I want it.”

“I don’t know, lelien .”

Fair, but he must have a theory. “Best guess?”

“Do you have your key?”

Sunne patted his zippered coat pocket and nodded.

“My best guess is that souls aren’t meant to stay in the village,” Tyr answered as he pulled the door closed behind them. “It’s not supposed to be enjoyable.”

“Then they should probably rethink these units. They are ridiculously intuitive.”

“No, they’re not. Most of them aren’t like yours. For most of the souls here, these apartments are shelter and nothing more.”

Tyr had given him a lot of information, which elicited just as many emotions. Yet, his mind and instincts decided to latch onto just one of the ideas.

“Been in a lot of apartments, have you?”

“It’s not like that.” Laughing again, Tyr caught him by the wrist and whirled him around.

Sunne stared at the hollow between his collarbones, refusing to meet his gaze. Childish, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care at the moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you apparently think I’m fucking half the building.” The hint of a growl threaded his words, adding emphasis without threat.

“I didn’t say that.” He’d thought it, but as far as he knew, Tyr couldn’t read minds. “Maybe you’re projecting.”

In the next heartbeat, he found his back pressed against the wall of the corridor, a mountain of muscle anchoring him in place. “You’re jealous.”

“ You’re jealous,” he shot back, his entire body short-circuiting from the male’s proximity.

Strong yet gentle fingers slipped under his chin, urging his head up until he had no choice but to finally meet his mate’s gaze. A sexy, sinful smile curled one side of Tyr’s mouth, but the look in his eyes didn’t match the playful smirk. Instead, they burned, shining with a feral light and filled with unspoken promises.

“I like it,” he said, his voice quiet, throaty. “It’s cute.”

His other hand landed on the wall, caging him in as he bent, pressing closer, his lips barely a breath away.

Sunne froze, his head spinning and his heart throbbing in his throat. Fire coursed through his veins, singeing and consuming, and while he ached, it didn’t hurt. Gods, his lips were so close. Dangerously close. He could lean in, close that last inch, and claim what he wanted.

He could…but he didn’t.

Nerves kept him shackled, immobile, and whatever happened next, it was up to Tyr.

“Hey, Sunne! I was just—oh. Oops.”

Or the jackass who lived across the hall.

Sunne felt the heat creep into his cheeks at being caught in such a compromising position, but Tyr didn’t move. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head and growled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed down the corridor.

“Are you guys headed to the dock?” Aster asked, his tone absurdly casual. “I heard there’s something going on down there today.”

Tyr growled again. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s already dead,” Sunne whispered, shoving against his mate’s chest to get him to move.

“Not dead enough.”

“So, do you guys want to go down together?” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Aster shuffled closer. “Or do you need another minute? I can wait.”

Despite his initial dislike of the guy, Sunne didn’t consider Aster a bad person. A pain in the ass, maybe, but not bad. He was just a little too enthusiastic and had zero regard for personal boundaries.

He also still suspected Aster had a crush on his mate, but once he had realized Tyr didn’t return the attraction, his jealousy had cooled. Mostly.

With a frustrated grunt, Tyr shoved away from the wall to glare at their neighbor. “Do I look like I fucking—”

“Sure!” Sunne grabbed the shifter’s wrist and squeezed. “We were just headed that way.”

“Awesome. I’ll go call the elevator.”

Still holding Tyr’s wrist, he smiled and nodded. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“ Lelien .”

He heard the warning, but he shook his head anyway. “He’s just a kid.” Well, eighteen, but close enough. “And he’s all alone here.”

“There’s an entire village of souls. Let him ruin their day.”

Gentling his smile, he slid their palms together and linked their fingers. “Be nice.”

Tyr shook his head. “I don’t do nice.”

“For me?” He rounded his eyes and blinked innocently. “Please?”

His mate stared back at him for a long time before he huffed and started dragging him toward the lifts. “You owe me for this.”

He would give Tyr anything he wanted, debt or not, but he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. “Deal.”

The elevators were another one of those things that just worked, though no one really understood how. They didn’t have buttons, yet the cab always stopped on the correct floor. Instead of a mirrored wall at the back, the ones in the Tower were made of only glass with a clear view of the vast blackness beyond.

Well, for about the first twenty or so floors. After that, the darkness gave way to the strange, silver light that covered the town. If he had to compare it to something, he would say it looked like moonlight, but softer, more dispersed, as if someone had hung a lampshade over the night sky.

And Aster? Apparently, no one had taught him how to read a room because he kept up a constant stream of chatter on the ride to the lobby. Sunne pasted on a polite smile and pretended to listen, though Tyr held most of his attention. His mate looked about two seconds away from breaking the windows and tossing Aster through them.

“Oh, you know those weird phone booths downstairs?” he asked. “I heard you can contact people through them. Like a haunting or something.”

While an expansive space with high ceilings and marbled floors, the building’s lobby didn’t house a business center, a welcome desk, or even a wall of mailboxes. It didn’t boast cozy seating areas or generic, mass-produced art.

Apart from the bank of elevators, the only thing in the cavernous space was a dozen bright red phone boxes that stood in a neat row. Sunne had never heard one ring, and he had never seen anyone make a call. Maybe they had a purpose, but Aster’s claim kind of sounded like bullshit.

Besides, even if what he said was true, Sunne didn’t have anyone to call. He’d been nine when his mom had dropped him off at school one morning and just never came back. His dad hadn’t really been that present in his life before, and after his mom left, it had only gotten worse.

Now, the guy existed in an angry, drunken haze, and while technically still alive, he had checked out long before Sunne had. As a result, they hadn’t so much as exchanged Christmas cards in six years.

At some point, Sunne figured the local police station would inform him that his only son had died in a freak accident. He wondered if the old man would even remember that he had a kid, let alone care.

It still unsettled him that his body probably hadn’t been found yet. While he had spent the last three days adjusting to his new reality, barely three minutes had passed since he’d bought himself a one-way ticket to the afterlife. And trying to wrap his mind around that just made his head hurt.

So, he tucked it away with other unpleasant things to worry about precisely never.

“Everything okay?” Tyr asked as the elevator finally slowed to a stop on the ground floor.

Blinking to clear the fog of reminiscence, he squeezed Tyr’s hand and bobbed his head. “I’m good. Just thinking.”

“Anything you want to share?”

He glanced at Aster from the corner of his eye. He didn’t carry pain from his past, nor did he treat the things that had happened like some big secret. At the same time, he didn’t particularly want to get into it in front of a stranger either.

“Later.”

Outside, they followed the uneven road that led from the Tower to the heart of the village. Sunne smiled and nodded at some of the residents they passed, receiving mostly odd looks in return. Although one soul had given him a startled wave before ducking their head and scurrying away.

Tyr had confirmed that thousands of people resided on that side of the river, but Sunne had yet to see any evidence to support the claim. At most, he had witnessed maybe a dozen or so souls gathered in one place, and barely twice that many in total. The streets and shops were almost always empty, quiet, creating a sense of hollowness that rang throughout the town.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Aster asked, giving voice to Sunne’s thoughts. “It’s fucking dead around here.”

It shouldn’t have been funny, but Sunne snorted. Then that snort turned into a chuckle, and before he knew it, his amusement had snowballed into a full-blown belly laugh that made his cheeks ache and his stomach cramp.

“What?” the kid demanded. “What’s so funny? It’s true.”

“It really is true,” Sunne gasped through his laughter. “It’s so dead here.”

“I know. That’s what I…I…oh, my god.” Cottoning on to his own accidental joke, Aster looped his arm through Sunne’s and leaned against him as he joined in his hilarity. “I didn’t mean it like that, but you’re right. It’s so true.”

The only person who didn’t appear amused was Tyr. Eyeing Aster with barely veiled disdain, he curled his upper lip and growled.

As a result, Aster’s laughter faded, but he didn’t back down. “Bro, chill.” Tightening his hold on Sunne’s arm, he stared up at him and rolled his eyes. “We’re just laughing. You should try it sometime.”

“I laugh,” Tyr responded defensively. “And I’m not your bro .”

“Fine. How about Daddy? Is that better?”

Sunne nearly choked. If the kid hadn’t already been dead, he might have thought he had a death wish.

Cackling, Aster finally let go of his arm and danced away when Tyr reached for him with a menacing growl. Then he jogged backward, his eyes gleaming with mischief, clearly enjoying himself.

“I’m going to get some coffee.” He pried his gaze away from the Guardian and focused on Sunne. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“Cool. I’ll meet you at the dock.” He glanced at Tyr again, his lips curved into a wicked grin. “See ya, Daddy .”

“I’m going to kill him,” Tyr growled as they watched Aster jog toward the diner.

“Tyr, he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” he warned. “Don’t fucking say it. I don’t care if he’s a kid, or if he’s already dead. I’m going to kill him.”

Sunne pressed his lips together and dipped his head. Telling his mate to calm down would only piss him off more. Plus, he kind of got it, even if he didn’t share in Tyr’s frustration. Sure, Aster could be a bit much, but the guy was starting to grow on him.

Like toe fungus.

Irritating, but ultimately harmless.

Still, probably best to change the subject. “Do you always oversee the supply drops?”

“No, not always. I rotate with Rune and Sindri.” His nostrils flared as he huffed out a breath. “Today was supposed to be Sindri’s turn, but he’s topside with Orrin.”

From context clues, he guessed Sindri to be another Guardian, though he hadn’t met the guy, and Tyr had never spoken of him before. “Is it just the three of you?”

“Here? Yeah.”

Of all the things he’d learned about the Underworld, discovering his mate wasn’t actually dead had been the biggest mindfuck. When they had met in that alley, he had naturally assumed Tyr was another soul like him. Knowing the shifter could leave and return to the mortal world whenever he wanted—a place Sunne couldn’t follow—still sparked a bit of panic whenever he thought about it.

“What are they doing topside?” he asked to cover his discomfort. “Or is it like top secret god stuff?”

Tyr wound an arm around his waist to help him navigate the shifting sands as they made their way down the hill toward the riverbank. “Nothing like that,” he said with a chuckle. “Sunday dinner at the palace.”

A displaced elfin prince with the powers of a god, who helped lost souls and still made time to share a meal with his family. He couldn’t make this shit up.

“That’s really sweet.”

His mate grunted, possibly in agreement, but with him, Sunne could never be sure.

A crowd had started to gather at the end of the pier, largely consisting of shopkeepers or their assistants. Some carried tattered canvas bags, while others pulled carts on wobbly wheels behind them. He recognized Helen from the bakery, and Clarice, an ancient-looking woman who darned clothes for the village’s residents.

“I don’t see Cian.”

“He doesn’t come down here.”

Sunne blinked. “Ever?”

“Nope. He always sends someone else to pick up his stuff.”

Interesting, but not really any of his business. “Do you think there will be ingredients for cinnamon rolls?”

Even as the words left his mouth, wooden crates and woven baskets began appearing at the end of the dock.

Tyr took his hand, tugging him to get him walking again, and smiled. “Let’s find out.”