Page 8 of Fenrir

He shrugged. “Humans got this weird idea that deals can only be made at a crossroad at the corner of a cemetery. So they call me a crossroad demon.”

“But it’s not true?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, if you know the right words and the right offering, you could make a deal with me while on the toilet if you wanted. Lucifer isn’t picky about where people are when they sell him their souls.”

Grace nodded.

“What about you? Are you a vampire?”

Grace shook her head vehemently. “No. Not at all.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Oh. Sorry. I saw you come in with Viv and her gang, so I just figured.”

“I’m a shifter,” she lied. Well, technically, it wasn’t a lie. She did shift.

He nodded. “Nice. And what do you do?”

“I’m a waitress.”

He seemed to mull that over for a moment. “So you pretty much live like a human.”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“But you live in the underworld?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“I just felt drawn here for some reason.” She had no interest in lying to people about why she was there, but so far, she hadn’t told anyone that the Moon Goddess was her birth mother, and she wasn’t about to start with a guy she was supposed to spend 120 seconds talking to.

“Interesting.”

The bell rang for them to change places, and Grace couldn’t help but be relieved.

As Aolf stood and wished her good luck, she realized he hadn’t even asked her name.

Grace looked up at the clock. Two minutes down, fifty-eight to go.

There were only fifteen minutes left to Grace’s relief. She’d met two more demons, a handful of vampires, two demigods, and an incubus. By the end of it, she’d had several offers to meet up afterward for a party, or a drink, or maybe just some company, but each offer had left her more agitated than the last.

When her next date sat at the table, she didn’t know if she’d even be capable of small talk. As the chair slid out on the other side of the table, a scent hit her so strongly that her breath caught. A spicy scent like oranges, pepper, and cinnamon flooded her. The scent swirled inside her warming her all over and making her body tingle. Her hands shook as she swallowed hard and breathed in again. Her agitation drifted away, and she breathed in the heavenly scent. He smelled like the special citrus wassail that Fay made every Christmas. The scent made her relax. He smelled like hope. Like joy. Like… home.

Grace’s heart thundered, and she finally lifted her gaze from her hands. A black Metallica t-shirt stretched to the point of bursting over the broadest chest she’d ever seen. Forearms like tree limbs rested on the small table, looking like their sheer weight could crumble it. Her gaze drifted to thick, corded, and bunched biceps that sported several ancient-looking scars. Shoulders wide enough to rival that of a giant lead to a thick neck, stubbly chiseled chin, high cheekbones to die for, and then to a pair of deep-set golden eyes that glowed from within.

Grace couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe as she took in his hard, ruggedly fierce face. His expression was a mask she couldn’t penetrate. He was the most handsome and terrifying man she’d ever seen, and something about his intense gaze and domineering aura made her want to be cocooned in his solid arms and run from him at the same time. They stared at each other. Neither speaking. But her body and spirit roiled inside. Wanting things. Needing things. Desiring things that she’d never wanted, needed, or desired before in her entire life.

The room seemed to drift away, and suddenly all she could hear was his heartbeat thundering. Rapid and strong and completely in time with her own. What the hell was happening?

She tried to form words but had no idea what to say or ask. It was strange how, even though neither said a word, they didn’t need to. As if their bodies and spirits were having the only conversation that was needed. A conversation that she could neither understand nor comprehend.

“Who are you?” he finally asked in a deep gravelly voice that shot straight through her and made her want to melt from the heat of it.

Grace blinked several times. “I… I’m Grace.”

“Grace.” He said her name like he was tasting a fine wine. Swishing it around to see how it tasted and if he approved.

Her stomach quivered as his intense gaze never left hers, and he said her name a second time. Savoring it and committing it to memory. The sound trickled down to her core and made her entire body tingle with anticipation.

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