Starkad felt Gwydion’s arm against his, muscles tense. Loki wasn’t known for overt displays of power, but his subtleties could be just as destructive.
“I got bored,” Starkad said.
“Right.” Loki glanced past him, to Gwydion. “How’s tricks?”
“Mostly harmless.” Venom dripped from Gwydion’s voice.
It might be entertaining, how poorly most trickster gods got along, if it weren’t intimidating to be in the presence of.
Loki shrugged. “That’s a shame. More fun for me, I suppose. What brings you home, Berserker?”
“Missed the homeland. Thought I’d see how different it looked now.” This was an instance where Starkad would take banal small talk over most anything. The conversation was stuffed to the brim with bullshit, but no one was dying.
“What’s your verdict?” Loki asked.
Starkad made a show of looking around. “It’s nice. I like what time’s done with the place.”
Loki clucked. “You never struck me as the sentimental type. Speaking of— How’s the girl?”
“Girl?” Starkad’s tension skyrocketed. He refused to discuss Kirby with Loki. “Morgana? I hear she was destroyed. Or close enough.” She had been a goddess who sided with TOM. Urd’s prophecies predicted her downfall at the hands of a mortal woman and a god-turned-man, and they had been right.
Though, if she hadn’t hunted the god and the woman he loved, would she have met her fate? In the end it didn’t matter. Whether the prophecies were real or of the self-fulfilling variety, as long as TOM believed them, people would continue to die.
“Hmm... yeah. Shame about that. It’s always sad to lose the nutty ones.” Based on Loki’s tone, it was anything but sad. “But I mean the girl. The sexy, barely-legal blonde you took from the campus under the pretense of her being dead. Your Valkyrie?”
Starkad forced his jaw to stay unclenched. He wouldn’t react. He couldn’t. “My what?”
“Are we still pretending she’s nobody?” Loki looked between them. “In that case, the cadet you kidnapped. Does that ring any bells?”
“Nope. I left because there was really nothing substantial hiding in the wings at TOM. You’re all as shallow and predictable as I thought, and I was tired of playing the game.” None of that was true, but if they’d known who Kirby was from the start, Starkad had missed too much about their inner workings.
“My mistake. Hey, tell me something else, then. Next time we meet, what are the odds you’ll try to kill me?” Loki asked.
“Fifty-fifty.”
Loki extended his hand. When Starkad took it, Loki pulled him close. “You can pretend it’s not her, but we know exactly who she is.” Loki’s stage whisper clawed over Starkad’s skin. “Why do you think I brought her into TOM? In fact, I never lost track of her. The question is, can you get to her before Hel does?”
Loki let go and strode into Freya’s shop without waiting for a reply.
Starkad was already reaching for his phone, pretenses be damned. He dialed Kirby’s number, adrenaline spilling through him. There was no answer. “Call me back the instant you get this.” He clipped off the words, disconnected, and called Min, to repeat the scenario.
“He could be lying.” Gwydion didn’t sound like he believed his own words.
“That is what he does.”
Gwydion grimaced. “Unless the alternative is funnier.”
And for Loki, mass murder was hilarious. Fuck.
Chapter Five
Kirby was on her feet, sprinting the short distance to the waiter, before her mind caught up. A knee to the back of his leg knocked him off balance. She twisted his wrist, and snagged the knife from mid-air as it fell from his hand.
He landed on his back. She pressed her knee to his chest and the blade to his throat. A steak knife would be a messy way to kill, but she’d do it if she had to.
“I’m sorry.” He started to cry. “Did I get your order wrong?”
Disgust and doubt churned in Kirby. This was him. It had to be.
“Kirby.” Min’s voice was sharp.
“Let me up, please.” The waiter was sobbing now. “I’m so so sorry.” He shook under her leg.
Was she wrong? No. She didn’t read these things wrong.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her own arms to her sides, and Min lifted her off the waiter.
She struggled against the binding grip, but the best she could do was kick and thrash her head, and Min didn’t flinch away from either.
“Kirby,” he barked again.
She paused long enough to look at the waiter. He stared back with wide, red-rimmed eyes, as he sat and scooted away from her on his ass.
Told you it was paranoia.
Kirby didn’t want to believe it.
“I’m going to go.” The waiter scrambled to his feet.
Min set Kirby down. “Wait.” He caught the man at the door. “I’m sorry.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a wad of cash.
Kirby could grab the knife. She could cross the room and execute the waiter before Min could stop her. No hesitation.
He's just a waiter.
“Please forgive her.” Min handed over the money. “She’s going through a huge loss, and it’s hit her hard. This stays between us?”
The waiter glanced over Min’s shoulder at Kirby, fear oozing from him. “Crazy fucking cunt.” He looked at Min again. “Between us. Yeah. But I’m telling management no more room service.”
“That’s fair.” Min sighed, and locked the door behind the man when he was gone. He turned to Kirby. “Explain yourself.”
Rage and self-loathing burned up her throat instead of an answer.
MIN HAD BEEN TOLD, and he believed, that Kirby was a honed and trained killer. Starkad had also said she’d struggled with a few things when he pulled her from TOM.
Min didn’t expect to deal with unhinged. He was more concerned than upset.
She stared him down, anger flashing cold in her eyes. “I didn’t think this would be necessary, but apparently we need to lay down some ground rules.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She stalked forward and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I’ll kneel at your feet and suck your cock. I’ll play your filthy baby-girl when we’re fucking. But you do not ever get to undermine me when it comes to my safety. If you want to go carelessly about life, ignoring threats because they can’t hurt you, I can’t stop you, but don’t jeopardize me in the process.”
“You tackled a hotel employee and held a knife to his throat.” Now Min was angry, but not about that. “And I don’t want you to play at anything with me. You’re here because you want to be. In this room and any time you’re in my bed. If you’re not happy with the arrangement, never do it simply because I asked it.”
“Thanks for the lecture, Mr. God. Do your views on consent tie back to the fact that you’ve spent centuries looking for a dead woman because you had some good times while she was alive? I never asked for that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Now isn’t the right time for this conversation. Not while we’re angry.”
“That’s the perfect time for the conversation. Unless you’d like me to leave for good.”
This wasn’t about the waiter then. Kirby felt trapped with Min. Given the way she described the man from TOM, he understood her wariness. Now was the time to show her that she held all the cards in this relationship. He stepped aside and gestured to the door. “The clothes are yours to keep.” He tossed his wallet on the table. “You can take whatever is in there. I don’t want you here against your will.”
“Why do you keep throwing your life away for her?” Kirby stayed rooted to the spot. “For a woman you’ve known less than a quarter of a century in total?”
Something she’d never asked before. They'd had similar conversations in her past lives, but never with so much venom. He was uncertain if the answer would make things better or worse. “I haven’t always pursued you. I didn’t meet
you for the first time and think, I’ll surrender portions of my existence finding her again. Neither did Gwydion.” It took time. Knowing her across multiple lives. Her begging him to find her again, and him hating the idea of losing her until he did.
Hurt flickered across her face but vanished behind fury. “Good, then. I guess. No, I know. Good.”
“Starkad always has, though. He’s never lost faith in you.” That should soften the blow, and maybe they could shift this conversation to something less defensive.
Kirby’s falter lasted longer. “Yes he has.”
“If you’re staying, temporarily or otherwise, come sit down again.” Min stepped past her, to the food cart. “Try the fruit. Unless you’re concerned TOM poisoned it.” He wasn’t poking fun at her. She obviously believed there was a threat, even if there wasn’t one.
“TOM doesn’t do poison. Too unreliable.” She still didn’t move.
Min filled two plates with fruit and brought them back to the living room. He set one on the coffee table in front of the couch, and settled back into his seat with the other.
“Whatever issues you and Starkad have—and no, he’s never said such a thing—I guarantee his universe still revolves around you,” Min said.
Kirby clenched her fists, and her chin quivered. Otherwise, she was stone. A stunningly fierce statue, in the middle of the room. Pygmalion would be smitten all over again.
Min continued. “When Gwydion first met you, when I did, you were another mortal woman. One with a tragic ending, but all mortals die. We’d witnessed it a thousand times each. Even the second time I found you, and after that, when Gwydion met the beautiful woman who reminded him of his past, it was a coincidence.”
“In Rome.” Her voice was quiet.
“Yes. He met Starkad a short while later, and learned who you were. Gwydion wished him luck in finding you, shared the news with me, and we went on with our existence. We’re gods. We fuck, we move on. A mortal who dies and comes back is still a mortal.”
Kirby sank to the ground on her knees, an ocean of emotion roaring across her features. Fear... Hurt... Regret... Disappointment... “Then I remembered.”
Min set his plate next to hers, his food untouched. “It all came back to you before you died. I knew by then that you were going to haunt my memories forever, regardless of what came next. When you begged me to swear that we’d find each other again, I agreed without hesitation. I promised you that and my heart.”
“Her. You promised her.”
Min wasn’t going to argue the semantics. Kirby had the same soul and heart. The same name and appearance. Her experiences in this life had changed her, but that didn’t erase the past. “It was similar for Gwydion. I’m certain Starkad never liked the arrangement, but...”
“I’ve— She’s never remembered with him before.” Kirby’s gaze was haunted when she looked at Min. “You can’t hold me to promises she made.”
This part of the conversation never changed. That was almost a relief. “I don’t. I never have. You and I always fall in love again. Yes, I know what you like, and I don’t hold back when it comes to wooing you. But your decision to stay with me is always yours.”
Min wanted to pick her up. Lift her from the ground and cuddle and console her. Instead, he grabbed the plates and sat across from her on the rug. He placed her food in front of her.
Kirby moved her knees from beneath her and sat her ass on the floor. “If I don’t fall in love with you, what happens to you? Is this an I mate for life kind of thing?”
“You tell me no, and I move on. The offer I made you a few minutes ago was sincere.” He popped a bite of honeydew in his mouth and let the flavor wash over his tongue. It didn’t mask the bitter thought of losing Kirby.
“Just like that?” she asked.
There was no just about it. “I’ve given you my heart and soul and everything you've asked for, but only because we both wanted it. I won’t stop loving you, but I also won’t demand you do the same in return. I only ask that, if you do, it’s without reservation.”
“Kind of too bad Mark never learned that lesson.” Kirby ate a grape. And then several more.
She was comparing him to a man she called a sociopath? “That man at the house? He didn’t love you. You told me that yourself. You referred to him as obsessive. What you and I have is different.”
She took her time with a piece of pineapple. “I’m not obsessed with you, says the god who’s waited more than a thousand years for a dead woman.”
“I need you to understand the difference.” He was wounded that she would compare him to a stalker and killer. “Not just for me, but also for you. I look because I promised I would. Because you asked and I agreed. If you tell me to leave, or if you walk away, I’ll respect that.”
Kirby was silent, as she finished the rest of her fruit. “I’m not insane or paranoid. I knew that waiter, and he works for TOM.”
“You made him cry.”
“That’s what we’re—they’re trained to do.” She trailed her thumb over the scars on the inside of her wrist. Was she aware of the habit? “Seize every opportunity to use someone’s prejudices and indoctrination against them. Crying? No one likes to deal with crying, especially men. If it looks like it will earn sympathy or discomfort, rather than hostility, it’s an option. Racism? They spin that in their favor. If we were in public when that waiter felt threatened, he’d draw attention to you as a means of deflecting or escaping.”
Min understood the tactics. He wished they weren’t Kirby’s default assumption. “Or he was simply terrified and didn’t know how else to react.”
“You had a part in the decision to leave me with TOM”—Kirby’s tone shifted to cool and emotionless—“so I’d learn to survive. This is a part of that training. You can’t be selective about which parts you deem useful, after choosing on my behalf to subject me to all of them.”
“It doesn’t work that way. I didn’t sign off on the curriculum, and I didn’t say my decision was without fault.”
“This is a core component of protecting myself. That was the point, wasn’t it? So I’d learn how to not die, and you could keep me longer?”
Keep me. He didn’t like the disdain in her voice. “I explained—”
“I can walk away whenever I want. Now, anyway. I get it. I heard you.” She kicked to her feet. “Did you trust them? These women you think are me? If they’re me, then you could afford me the same courtesy. If you still refuse to respect my training, why the fuck am I here, and why the fuck did you subject me to it?”
Min heard her frustration. It echoed his own. We don’t hit people. The condescending retort froze in his throat. He wasn’t speaking to a child. Kirby was right; she’d been trained to spot danger. To see it lurking where no one else did, and to eliminate it before it was a threat to her. He couldn’t fault her for that. Not only was it exactly what he’d hoped for, but the hints he’d seen of her skill and prowess were also beautiful. Terrifying. Haunting and awe inspiring.
He remained seated. If he stood, he’d tower over her. Given how much she interpreted in every gesture, there was no reason to add another implication to her irritation. “You’re right,” he said. “I did trust those past yous, and I did want you to learn these skills. If you see him as a threat, I believe you.”
Her smile was strained. “No you don’t.”
“No. I don’t. But I’m trying. It will take both of us some time to see things from each other’s perspectives. I don’t live my life looking over my shoulder constantly. I don’t fear anything.”
Except losing her permanently.
“This friend of yours... When are we supposed to meet him?” Kirby asked.
Min rose. He suspected the topic of her past would come up again, but they’d reached a middle ground, and that was acceptable. “Whenever you’re ready. His shop is open during the day, but he’s happy to meet with us after hours.” A benefit of working with a brownie. Min would bring him a small gift—if it was
too ostentatious, the man would be offended—and in return, Gareth would share his knowledge.
“After we move to a more modest room, something a TOM agent hasn’t staked out right in front of us, I’m ready.” Tension still had Kirby’s body coiled tight, but the annoyance had faded from her voice.
“Why would we move?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love the pampering. I’m getting spoiled by the lifestyle. But he knows where we are, and a room at the Holiday Inn draws a lot less attention than the executive suite at The Ritz.” She fixed him with a stare. “You want to see the world through my eyes. This is it. Safety is an illusion, every person is a potential threat, and better safe than sorry wins every time, even if it means a little humiliation.”
He couldn’t imagine every second of every day in that manner, but he was getting an inkling for her perspective. The waiter was hardly a threat, but if this would make Kirby happy, Min would comply. “I’ll call Daz. He can make the change while we’re out. Then no one knows it was us, checking into the new place.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was worth the concession.
He made his phone call, and they were on their way. The bookshop was less than a kilometer away, so they decided to walk.
Every person is a potential threat. Kirby’s words echoed in his thoughts. He couldn’t fathom it.
“Tell me what you’re seeing right now,” Min said. He was looking at London's beauty. The old buildings mixed with new. The crowds. The scents of car exhaust and threatening rain.
“Almost every person who can see us is staring. Most of them won’t try to hide it. They want to know what a stunning, statuesque blonde is doing with a black man. They don’t see your beauty. They sense your presence, but they misinterpret why it makes their pulse race.”
Kirby slipped her hand into his. “And now several of them are looking away, either in embarrassment or anger. If we can’t blend in, we have to stand out to the point where people actively try to ignore us.” She drifted closer, until her arm brushed his. “And while they do that, I’m looking for the opposite. The individual who’s so average, most people will never notice them.”
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