Page 24 of Bride of Death
“I’m not a ghost, by the way,” he says conversationally. “I’m an abominable mix of several fae, but Death Fae isn’t in my monstrous makeup.”
I frown at him. “I never called you a ghost. I was referring to your name.”
He pauses whatever he’s doing with his knife and looks up at me. “My name is Maliki. Ghost is a nickname.”
I scrunch my nose. “Oh.”
“Not a fan?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Uh, no.” I clear my throat, realizing how that sounds. “No, I mean, I… I’ve just been calling youGhost. So I’m just, um, adjusting?” It comes out uncertain because I sound like a babbling idiot.
Which isn’t me.
I’m not this nervous, confused, delirious female. I’m just… overwhelmed, I guess.
And hungry.
My stomach growls.
Scratch that. I’mveryhungry.
The sensation seems to be growing by the second as savory aromas start to scent the air. I didn’t realize that Ghost—Maliki—started something on the stove. But I notice now as he drops whatever he chopped up into it.
He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, which I suppose he does to an extent.
Because Tank is on holiday. That’s what Maliki said, anyway.
I frown. “You didn’t hurt Tank, right?” I’m not sure why I ask. But something about this male screams danger. And now I’m a little concerned that a fae was harmed in Maliki’s quest to live next door.
For reasons I still don’t understand.
“And why are you staying in his place?” I ask before he answers my Tank question. Only, I already know the answer to this query. “To guard me?” I voice that knowledge as a question because I don’t understand the reason. “Why?”
Maliki looks up from the counter where he’s chopping something else now. His dark hair falls across his forehead in a messy wave, one he seems to ignore even as it grazes his golden eyes.
“Why would I have hurt Tank?” he questions me. “Did he touch you?”
My frown deepens. “What? No. We spoke for, like, thirty seconds. He asked what I was doing here, I told him I just moved in, and he nodded, gave me his name, then went into his house.” It was probably the easiest conversation I’ve had with a fae since moving to this kingdom.
Unfortunately, the interaction set an unfair standard. Tank didn’t ask for my mate status or try to flirt with me. That was part of what made him memorable—he treated me like a normal person, not some exotic animal.
“Then why would you think I hurt him?” Maliki asks.
I stare at him. “Because you said he’s on an all-expenses-paid holiday…” I trail off, the words leaving my lips slowly as I’m not sure how to complete my thought out loud or how to explain that my mind translated his words to mean something else.
The reply,You’re intimidating,sits on the edge of my tongue.And you have a violent aura.
Yeah, those comments would go over really well, I’m sure.
“I’m not one to mince words, trouble,” he informs me. “If I hurt someone in your honor, you would know.”
“In my honor?” I repeat. “And why are you calling me trouble?” It’s the second time he’s said that, but I was too preoccupied to comment on it the first time.
“Because you’re trouble,” he replies, returning to his task. “And a mystery.”
“I’m neither,” I promise him. “I’m just a human named Sera.”
“You’re a human that possesses the soul of a Goddess,” he corrects me. “Which is both exhilarating and frustrating. You’re powerful, yet ridiculously breakable. An infuriating combination to protect and now guide, apparently.”
