Page 78 of Grave Curse

“I have no idea what Freya is supposed to look like, so to me you look like thatVikingsbadass bitch, Lagertha, only you have red hair instead of blonde. The kohl around the eyes makes your gray eyes look lighter, so that could be seen as freaky godlike.” Dressed as a sexy pirate wench with a leather bustier that did amazing things for her hourglass curves, Roxie fluffed up her wild hair while looking my costume over with a critical eye. “It’s crazy how much that looks like a real dagger on your hip.”

“Mm-hm.” What I didn’t tell her was that it was a real dagger, and that I also had the pearl-handled straight razor tucked into my belt. We were right across the street from the Gravediggers, so I didn’t expect trouble. It would be sheer suicide for whatever was left of the Chicago Gravediggers to attack now. But I knew how Hades’s mind worked. He never met a stupid move he didn’t like, so trying to screw up a civilian’s birthday party would be totally his style.

But again, the odds were against it, especially with Tyr right there with me. Hades was terrified of Tyr, so he wouldn’t strike wherever his nephew was.

But still, the extra weaponry didn’t hurt.

And it wasn’t like anyone would notice that I was armed. The Iron Age attire from the Viking era was seriously badass, and I was a little sorry I couldn’t walk around in this getup year-round.Faux foxtails in red and gray dripped off armored shoulders in an impressive furry mantle, with a cape of gray faux fur continuing down my back to stop just above my butt. My torso was covered in a cool mix of silvery chainmail and a weave of rich oxblood leather—the Iron Age’s version of a bandage bodice—and showed an impressive amount of cleavage. That probably wasn’t authentic battle attire, but I didn’t care. The gray faux-fur skirt hanging in tatters well above the knee also would have looked ridiculous on a battlefield, but at a costume party it freaking rocked. I even had boots made of the faux fur, and while I knew it would probably get hot as hell as the party wore on, that didn’t matter. For one night I was the goddess I always pretended to be, and that meant I could handle anything.

“Welp, guess it’s time.” I gave Roxie a quick hug before heading out to the front room to find a couple Gravediggers and their ladies—Ashtray and Mabel, and Tomahawk and a dark-haired little mama I didn’t know—being greeted at the door by Carlo.

“Let’s get our party on!” Ashtray bellowed.

Just like that, the evening’s festivities began.

Every time I turned around there seemed to be more people crammed into Vixen’s Den’s front room, almost all of them Gravediggers and their ladies, and almost all of them strapped and loaded for bear. I knew what that show of firearms meant, just as I knew what it meant when Ajax’s enforcers took up posts at the shop’s front and back doors. Like me, Tyr wanted to be ready for any sort of trouble, but also like me, he was clearly done with worrying about what might happen. What I had around me at this party was a shocking show of both force and defiance, something even Hades would have had to think twice about. We were armed and not scared—two definite drawbacks for a coward like Hades.

Music blared from a playlist I’d put together, a mix of party music such as “Uptown Funk” and “Yeah,” as well as classics like “Gonna Make You Sweat” and “Cupid Shuffle,” mixed in with seasonal tunes like “Thriller,” “Monster Mash” and “Somebody’s Watching Me.” When the Pussycat Dolls song “Buttons” came on, I dropped what I was doing and went straight to the pole with what felt like a wild grin on my face.

For every woman, there was a song that called to her inner stripper. “Buttons” was mine, and I went for it like it would be the last time I’d ever dance. Roxie, former exotic dancer that she was, had done a decent job of teaching me a few moves on the pole, so I went into a spin with gusto and nearly impaled myself on my dagger.

Oops.

Why hadn’t anyone told me pole-dancing and bladed weaponry didn’t mix?

Hastily I took it off, threw it to Roxie—who was laughing her butt off at me—then gave it another try. Big cheers went up for the perfectly executed “chair” and nice little outside step I wove around the pole, though I did nearly take out a guest with my long legs when I outside-stepped with an exuberant flair.

Oops again.

Maybe I shouldn’t quit my day job.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Shiloh, standing in the protective circle of her husband’s arms as she enthusiastically waved a dollar at me. Next to her, Misty stood with her man Lasso, both dressed like they’d just come in from a cattle drive, while Misty waved her cowgirl hat in the air and yelled at me to take it all off. Mabel was doing some dirty dancing while watching me, laughing while sliding one hand quickly over the other in a “make it rain” move.

God, I loved my girl posse.

“Who wants it next?” I called out to the rowdy crowd, then did one final move—the hook—while loads of woman called out for a fun turn on the pole. I came to an abrupt stop when a giant of a man in a fur-lined hooded cloak stepped onto the tiny stage. One massive hand shot out to grip the pole to stop my twirls, the other holding up a one-hundred-dollar bill.

Ooh.

“Didn’t we do this about a decade ago?” came Tyr’s voice from the shadowed depths of the hood. I gasped, peered up at him under that hood and found him grinning like a madman down at me.

“Tyr!” I all but screamed in shock. Everyone burst out laughing as I gaped like an idiot at him. For his part, Tyr pulled the hood back to show he wore a simple braided crown, very Viking-style that matched my vibe, and my stunned brain slowly got that he was in as much of a costume as he’d probably ever be. Of course he still wore the usual jeans and biker boots beneath the cloak, but his chest was covered in a similar type of Iron Age-looking body armer of studded leather and chainmail. In another era, he would have been a Viking on his way to pillage.

I’d never wanted to be pillaged more in my life.

“Someone else get up here on the pole.” Eyes never leaving mine, Tyr stuffed the hundred-dollar bill into my cleavage and grinned. “The only dancing my ol’ lady does is for me and me alone.” Then he kissed me, a long, conquering kiss that branded me in no uncertain terms ashis.

Bawdy catcalls and whoops went up even as a woman hopped up onto the tiny staged and started grinding away while Tyr led me off to one side.

“I never thought you’d show up in a costume.” I laughed in sheer delight, because we sort of matched just like the couple we were. Smiling brilliantly up at him, I twined my arms around hisstrong neck and reveled in how his arms held me fiercely close. “You’re always surprising me, you know that?”

“I like to keep you guessing.” He kissed me again, long and deep, before cruising his mouth to my ear. “Do me a favor and stay on the alert for anything weird, yeah? Everything’s probably cool and there’s nothing popping on our radar. I just know Hades, and he loves to strike when he thinks we’re at our weakest.”

“I know, Tyr.” My hand came up to caress his jaw while I kissed his lips, then his cheek before moving to his ear. Anyone looking at us now would think we were just an ordinary couple making out. But Tyr and I had never been ordinary. “I’ve clocked how many guns are in this room, as well as outside at all the points of entry. Let him come. And let him die. It’ll be the best birthday present ever.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot, woman.” Approval and desire mixed into a volatile fire in his eyes as he stared down at me. “Maybe you really are the goddess Freya reborn, after all.”

“About time you realized it.” I leaned into another kiss before reluctantly easing out of his arms. “Gotta play hostess, baby. Do you want me to check in on you every once in a while just to keep you happy?”

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