“Oh Goddess,” he groaned, bending forward as he fought to keep his wings from exploding into existence in the tiny shower stall.
The smug expression on Hera’s face after she’d won their dart competition was what did him in, though, shooting his release against the wall as he bit down on the forearm that was supporting his weight. He worked himself through the aftershocks, little spurts dribbling out to wash immediately down the drain with the water.
When he was too sensitive to touch any longer, he rested both forearms against the wall, his head between them, and tried to catch his breath. His tail curled around one leg and Augustine wondered when that had appeared.
Finally, after cleaning the wall, he turned off the water and got out. He dried himself off quickly and got rid of his tail before rubbing the lotion into his skin. He was mostly purple instead of his pale human skin tone, and scales were evident on his abdomen.
Augustine had just pulled on his shirt when there was a knock on his door. He opened it hesitantly. Last time someone had knocked, it had been a proposition.
What if the lady who sent it decided to come down here herself?
But it wasn’t a lady. It was Odin, the owner of the fight club.
“Is everything All right, sir?” Augustine asked, proud of himself for his voice remaining steady.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. You don’t usually let yourself get beat up that much,” Odin asked, peering intently into Augustine’s eyes.
Augustine let out a short laugh. “Let? I am not sure what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Harumph,” Odin snorted. “If that’s how you McKellen boys want to play it, that’s fine. People pay good money to come watch you fight, and you always put on a good show, so I have no complaints. You just seemed off today. None of your normal patter.”
“Sorry, sir. I was a little distracted.”
Odin barked a laugh. “Did that lass bed you good last week? You thinking about her?”
Augustine frowned in confusion. “Bed me? What lass?”
“Didn’t get her name?” Odin slapped the doorframe with his hand as he chuckled. “Fortunately for you, I know who she is. Sort of. She didn’t give me her name.”
The dots finally connected in Augustine’s tired brain. “The woman in purple who was sitting next to you last week? She sent me the letter?”
“Sure, boy! When a woman goes after what she wants, she gets it.” Odin winked at him. “Well, if that’s all.” He moved to leave.
“Wait!” Augustine grabbed Odin’s shoulder. “Who was she? Tell me everything you know about her.”
Odin paused to look down to where Augustine’s hand gripped his shoulder. He appeared to come to some internal decision to allow the contact, and then raised his grey-blue eyes. “Not much. She’s a friend of Chloe’s, though. You could try asking her.” When Augustine didn’t answer, Odin continued, “Lucifer’s wife Chloe?”
Augustine let go of the man’s shoulder in dismay. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem. See you in a few days.” With that, Odin left down the long stone tunnel that lead back to the arena.
Augustine sighed, picked up his duffle, and tucked his cell phone in his pocket.
I am not sure why I would want to find this woman. I want to get to know Hera better, not some mystery woman who saw me fighting and wanted me to fuck her.
Resolving to put the woman in purple out of his mind, Augustine headed for home. He was seeing Hera in four days, and he wanted to make sure that the date went well. Not because hers had some rather disastrous failures, but because he wanted her to enjoy herself.
Although, now that I think about it, maybe I should not plan theperfectdate. I do not want her to feel worse about last week.
He had decided to take her to the stables that were in Purgatory rather than search for one topside.
Who knew how mortal horses would react to bearing a dragon shifter?
All animals seemed to have some sort of sixth sense when it came to supernatural beings. Augustine had seen enough animals shy away from him that he didn’t want to give Hera any reason to be nervous around him.
* * *
“Oh my goodness,these horses are gorgeous!” Hera gasped excitedly, taking in the large black mares that pranced in their stalls.