Page 45 of Devil's Debt

“Just for a minute,” I reply, “and I’ll be back to work.” He glances at me more closely this time, walking toward me, an irritated but concerned look on his face.

“It’s not even midnight,” he says. “are you tired?”

Yes. I am. The last week of my life has upended everything I’ve ever known. I’m sleeping under the same roof as a god, a handsome god no less who fills out suits in a way that troubles me.

My nights feel hectic, my days glisten in a way I’ve never experienced, and yet I still feel normal.

And that part has me more tired than anything.

“I’m fi--“ His hand comes up, interrupting me, and he presses the back of it against my forehead, like he’s feeling for a temperature.

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs, and it’s then I realize how close we are, the walls feeling like they’re drawing nearer with each breath I take.

He’s so tall, and his golden eyes are soft, worried even.

“It’s hot in here,” I say, and my words are barely a whisper. Hadrion doesn’t seem to have heard me. I wonder if he can hear my heart beating wildly, the blood pounding in my veins. Does he know when he’s close I...

It’s hard to think. I just feel my skin tingling, and I wish so much he’d close the gap between us, that his hand would drop to the back of my neck, that he’d thumb across the hollow in my throat, feel for my pulse—

“You should rest upstairs, and I need to hire more bar-staff, especially for these open-house nights,” he says, and pulls away, my heart dropping from where it was slowly working up my throat. Of course. He’s primary concern is business. No way is someone as normal, pathetic as me, of interest to him.

He’s a god.

And I’m... just me.

“Sure,” I say, pushing away from the wall. He steps back and turns to go. “I’ll see you in a bit,” I say, trying to sound as normalas possible.

“Yes,” he replies, pausing, and looks over his shoulder. He seems to want to say something, his lips parting, and I wait.

But no words come.

And he leaves.

I close my eyes again, leaning against the wall.

He was just checking up on you, you idiot, not asking you on a date. Do gods date? I mean, they fall in love, or at least, they... make love, fuck, whatever it is, get married, have children, don’t they? I should ask him. Be real brave, ask him if it’s anything compared to what I learned in high-school.

I take a step toward the club, wanting to call him back to me, but that feeling of being so small overwhelms me and I falter, staying silent.

Maybe I’ll just ask Shay instead. She’s easier to talk to.

And I’m not having a problem day-dreaming about the shape of her lips when she talks to me.

I slip out of the hallway, back behind the bar. Angel glances at me.

“Feeling better?” He asks, and I nod, grabbing a glass and pouring myself a shot. I knock it back, letting the burn of the liquor hit the back of my throat, and then shake my shoulders out. Much better. Liquid courage filling my gut, I throw myself back at the bar-top, pressing right into it to take orders. The night blurs, as Angel covertly passes me another shot with a grin and a thumbs-up.

Gates. Gates and keys. Pour the drink, pass it over, take the money, swipe the card. Gates and keys. Those words repeat on me, again and again. Gates. Gates and keys and... guardians.

It pours over me like a bucket of ice-water, and all of the sudden the club disappears from my senses. I reach up and grab the pendant, staring straight in front of me. The outlines of the crowd part, silhouetting into a smokey, glittery fog. The world is muted, and the whole world feels like it’s been thrown into black and white.

And standing in the middle of it, twenty feet from me, in full living color, is the dog.

Cyrus.

Only this time, he’s not a man.

He’s Cerberus.

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