Until you’re ready for it to, I thought with a snarl and clamped off my cries.
To my great regret, my momentary disgust at my ex slowed my reflexes. By the time I sprang to my feet, it was too late. The door clicked shut in my face. Now, I had a real reason to howl.
I couldn’t open the door.
There was no one else around.
Worse yet, I let a killer saunter off with his latest target.
The night was quickly spiraling out of my control. Seeing no other alternative, I leapt over the rail to the deck below. We cats may always land on our feet, but that didn’t mean it doesn’t piss us off to jump. I yowled the entire way down, until my paws settled with a soft thump outside a row of private suites. Judging from the moans coming from within, some of them were already being used for a bit of naughty fun. I made note of that. I fully intended to partake in such delights as soon as my vengeance was complete. For the moment, I sprinted off in search of the one person who may actually be able to help me. Following Nyx’s scent—top-shelf booze and lavender oil—led me to the hull of the ship.
I found her in the Dining Saloon. Dressed in the gown I packed for myself, she rolled a glass with what I guessed to be about three fingers of scotch back and forth between her palms. Sky-blue hair fell in gentle waves down her back as she sipped from her drink. Others may have thought she was content, thrilled even, to watch the knee-slapping jigs of the ghosts that filled the room. I had lived with her long enough to pick up on the sorrow that darkened her features. As her gaze traveled to the tattooed bartender slinging drinks with a cocky smirk, I was forced to dodge into the shadows to avoid being kicked by a goblin stomping past.
Keeping myself carefully hidden, I slunk over to Nyx in the same instant a curvaceous blonde and beautiful black man edged up alongside my food-peddler’s table.
Before either of them had the opportunity to speak, Nyx gave voice to her inner monologue. “What’s he like?”
Truth be told, she might not have noticed the pair’s arrival at all. Speaking as her roommate, girlfriend talks to herself… a lot.
The blonde looked from Nyx to her date and back again, deliberating over whether or not that was meant as a bawdy insult. Only when she followed the reaper’s gaze did she realize the blue-haired beauty was fixated on the bartender.
“What’s he like?” Blondie parroted, her tone implying she was hunting for a little more information to go on.
A nod was all Nyx had to offer.
As she chewed on the inside of her cheek, the blonde’s eyes narrowed, most likely in hopes she answered this odd riddle correctly. “He’s… nice? Makes a good cocktail. A bit sweet for a whiskey drinker like myself but still good.”
Nyx took another swig from her glass, grimacing as she choked down the burn. “Does he look like the kind of guy who would hide his true agenda from you for centuries and then crush your heart under his boot?”
I paused mid-stalk, ears twitching. I knew she was in a dark place. But, for Anubis’ sake, that was a bit much to slap a random stranger with.
“Uh... no?” The flaxen enchantress grimaced her regret at approaching that particular table. Not that I could blame her. “You’re Nyx, right? You’re a reaper-slash-archangel?”
For the first time since they arrived, Nyx forced her gaze away from the tatted-up morsel behind the bar. “Why?”
Dressed in a white button up and dark slacks that hinted at the chiseled physique beneath, Goldilocks’ date took a bold step forward.
“I’ve been dead for a hundred and sixty years,” he said, his tone as smooth as melted molasses. “I’ve been granted a body for one night…” Pausing for a beat, he waded into the inviting waters of his lover’s stare. “But I need it to be forever.”
The sweet pair were so lost in each other’s gaze they completely missed Nyx’s exaggerated eye-roll. “You’re dead, but you don’t want to be anymore?”
The lovestruck couple nodded.
Nyx finished her drink and slammed the glass down on the table. “Couple things.” Leaning back in her chair, she propped her feet up on the table. “I don’t have my scythe. If I did, I could bring your man back for a night or so. But here he is, so that’s already been done, and you don’t need me. The second thing is that love sucks.”
They may have argued, defending their pure and real bond, had Nyx’s anguish not been palpable. A thick cloud of angst settled around her in a fog of misery.
Taking advantage of their stunned silence, she pressed on with her rant of misery. “Everyone dies. Love doesn’t bring you back, certainly not for an eternity or whatever shit you’re hoping for. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
Letting those be her parting words, Nyx slapped a palm to the tabletop and rose to her feet. With a determined sway in her hips, she moved toward the bar and left the couple blinking after her in confusion.
Desperate not to lose her in the crowd, I clung to the wall and skirted the perimeter.
The fallen angel.
The cursed reaper.
The chick one drink away from starting a bar brawl...
Despite the fact that she was the worst roommate imaginable, I had come to care for the annoying little twat. Therefore, I continued to hang back and listen as she made her move on the bartender with lickable muscles and blazing blue eyes. Where Nyx insisted on desecrating the temple of her body with odd piercings, this strapping lad preferred tattoos. They seemed perfectly matched.
Nyx offered him a tight smile. “I think I heard the other bartender call you Anders. Is that right?”
His chin dipped in a brief nod of confirmation. “It is.”
“What’s your specialty, Anders?”
“For tonight? To serve in any way you need.” Pouring amber liquid into a glass, he slid it to a waiting patron then glanced her way from under his brow.
Her willpower was stronger than mine. Had he cast that look in my direction, I would have pounced over that bar and rubbed my butt against him.
Nyx, however, hitched one brow in mild interest as her leisurely gaze traveled the length of him. “Is that a fact? And what exactly is on your menu?”
Leaning forward with his elbows on the bar, Anders dragged his tongue over his lower lip. “Want me to show you?”
Nyx’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “I think I really do.”
“As you wish, m’lady.” He winked and bent in a theatrical bow with his arms thrown out wide. Grabbing a hurricane glass off the shelf behind him, Anders dug into the ice bin and filled it to the rim. As he worked, he talked her through the recipe. “I call it the Hellfire. Which, from one reaper to another, seems fitting. I fill it halfway with white chocolate liqueur, top it with club soda, and add a couple shots of blue curacao for that nice buzzy glow.”
He garnished it with a cherry then slid it across the bar. Nyx treated herself to a sip, and her eyes widened with appreciation. “That’s delicious.”
As he wiped a small spill off the counter with the white towel that had been slung over his shoulder, a playful smile curled up the corners of Anders’s inviting lips. “Even more so when tasted off the lips of another.”
Much to my surprise, Nyx pulled back. “Tipping works differently on this ship. Catch me up on how we got from this drink is yummy to let’s make out a little bit?”