Page 70 of Dark Rover's Gift

"He's an archeologist, not a sailor."

"Whatever." Shira let Fenella guide her toward the door.

The night air was cool and crisp, carrying a salt tang of the ocean despite the distance. Shira breathed deeply, and Fenella couldpractically see her metabolism kicking into high gear, processing the alcohol with familiar immortal efficiency.

"I hate how quickly we sober up," Shira muttered. "What's the point of drinking if you can't stay properly drunk?"

"To enjoy the taste?" Fenella suggested.

"True. Your pear martinis were delicious. Now that I know how good you are, I'll come every night of the weekend."

Fenella arched a brow. "You doubted my ability?"

"Not at all. I was sure you were good, but you are excellent, and you are also a mind reader. How did you know that I love lychee? You never even asked me what drink I wanted."

Fenella frowned. "I just know what people like. It's probably an instinct all experienced bartenders develop."

"Oh, please." Shira waved a dismissive hand. "They don't. Just accept the compliment."

Fenella chuckled. "Fine. It must be one of my many innate talents."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, their footsteps echoing on the quiet paths. The village at night had a different quality than during the day, a little spooky because the only light came from the moon and stars.

"Do you think something is wrong with me?" Shira asked out of the blue.

Fenella glanced at her friend, surprised by the question. "Not at all. Why?"

"Everyone else seems to want to be in a relationship. They want to experience the connection, the feelings, to find their forever person." She kicked at a pebble on the path. "But I just don't want that. The thought of being tied to one person forever makes me want to run screaming. I like doing my own thing, which is reading most of the time, or sketching, or just watching shows or movies, and I don't want to have to think about what someone else wants and compromise. Does that make me a narcissist?"

Fenella shrugged. "I don't know what the definition of a narcissist is."

"I do, and I'm not that, but I wanted to know what you think."

"Sorry to disappoint you. So, what's a narcissist?"

"Someone with a grandiose sense of self-importance, lack of empathy for others, a need for excessive admiration, and the belief that one is unique and deserving of special treatment."

"I've met many people like that, but you are not one of them. You are just different. One of a kind."

Shira might be a little egotistical and socially unaware, but she wasn't the other things in that description.

"Different." Shira snorted. "One of a kind. That's a nice way to put it."

"Hey." Fenella stopped walking, forcing Shira to stop too. "Look at me."

Shira met her eyes reluctantly.

"There's nothing wrong with knowing what you want, or what you don't want. The only problem is when other people don't respect that."

"Like Mr. Mama's boy tonight."

"Yeah, like him."

They resumed walking, and by the time they reached the house, Shira seemed to have sobered up. The fast immortal metabolism was both a blessing and a curse—great for recovering from injuries or illnesses, less great when you actually wanted to maintain a buzz.

"Thanks for walking home with me," Shira said as she opened the door. "Though I wasn't really that drunk."

"I know. But Atzil wanted to close early, and it gave me an excuse to leave too, and thanks to Din, I could."

---