Page 34 of Bride of Death
I drum my fingers along my mahogany desk, considering my options.
I chose the nuptial event with a purpose in mind. Persephone used to speak of our nuptial day all the time, saying it was the best moment of her life. I thought perhaps we could re-create it and try to reignite our old flame.
Forcing her to participate, though, defeats the purpose. Which is why I requested that Maliki convince her to attend voluntarily.
But maybe I am going about this all the wrong way.
Maybe it’s time I try to talk to the female masquerading as a fragile human.
I hum, my fingers still tapping my desk.
Or maybe she’ll come to me willingly, just like I desire.
Because the invitations are officially out.
Once she sees one, she’ll know I’m onto her little game. And she’ll be forced to face me on her own terms, thus coming to me willingly.
Yes.
This will work.
However, if it doesn’t, I’ll go to her.
And then I’ll remind her what it means to be my mate…
Chapter 9
Sera
The momentI walk into Death’s Den, I know Maliki’s warning was real.
Becauseeveryoneis staring at me.
It’s like the first day I stepped behind the bar, only this is worse because the den is packed full of fae.
I average maybe thirty to forty patrons a shift. And that’s on a busy night.
But this? Right now? Yeah, there have to be at least a hundred fae in here.
And none of them are speaking. Just gawking.
Thorns.
At least there’s music playing. Otherwise, it would be eerily quiet in here.
Gritting my teeth, I head toward the bar and startle when Gnarls’s red head pops up from behind it. His green eyes go wide as he takes me in. “Sera,” he mouths, his gaze darting behind me and then all around to take in the gawkers at my back.
“Gnarls,” I greet, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”
“I should be saying that to you,” he replies. “Er, Your Majesty?”
I frown. “What?”
“My lady?” he tries again. “Or, or… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how to refer to the God of Death’s chosen mate.” His eyes round. “Oh, cherries, I’m fudging this up, aren’t I?”
I blink at him, his words choices… strange. “Uh, well, no. You’re fine. And I’m not his chosen mate. There’s been a mistake.”
Gnarls’s red lashes flutter along his pale cheekbones. “Er, no, I’ve seen the invitation.” He scrambles around while I join him behind the bar, seemingly oblivious to our audience as he searches for something.
