I huff a tired laugh.
“Tell me about it. I still can’t believe it myself. I’m still pinching myself to be sure I’m not dreaming because?—”
But before I can finish my thought, the bedroom door opens.
Lucian enters first, tall and commanding, followed by Don Malthus, his shadowy robes whispering as he glides inside.
Hanna stiffens at once and goes to stand beside my chair, her eyes wide.
Lucian inclines his head.
“My apologies for interrupting your reunion, ladies but Don Malthus wished to say goodbye.”
The Necro Don approaches Hanna once more. I would say his eyes are intent as he stares at her—if I could see any eyes in those hollow sockets.
“I will not forget you, my lovely one,” he murmurs. “The next time I come to collect a soul, I will be looking for you.”
Hanna shivers and goes pale. I’m afraid for a minute she might actually faint…but she lifts her chin and I see defiance spark in her eyes.
“You can look all you want—I’m not interested,” she says firmly.
Malthus studies her with something like regret.
“You are beautiful with your full curves and your hair like fire—a woman like you could warm even the coldest bones. Would you like to visit the Ossuary Circle before you leave the Shadow Realm?”
“No,” she says sharply. “Absolutely not.”
I wonder if her sharp retort will offend the Necro Don. Most men get upset when you turn them down so bluntly. But he only sighs.
“Too bad…I would have treasured my own Curvy Queen.” He extends one long-fingered, skeletal hand. “I can offer pleasures no mortal can, you know—feasts that taste of the finest memories…wine that makes the heart weep with joy… and sexual release that brings you to the peak again and again.”
Hanna puts a hand on her hips.
“Excuse me?”
His skull tilts and I can almost see a sly grin on the skull mask.
“You heard me, lovely one. The French call orgasm la petite mort—the little death. Does that not give you an idea of what I offer?”
Hanna’s cheeks get red, but she crosses her arms over her breasts protectively and shakes her head.
“Sorry. Not interested.”
Don Malthus pauses for a moment, as though considering her rejection. At last, he nods.
“Very well,” he murmurs. “Until we meet again—though you will likely not see me.”
And then he glides out of the bedroom door.
The room feels warmer once he’s gone and I exhale shakily.
“Whew!”
“Well,” Hanna says faintly. “This is officially the weirdest week of my life.”
Mr. Mittens hops into my lap and begins to purr. And somehow, despite all the weirdness, that feels like the most normal thing in the world.
But I have to wonder—now that Hanna’s here, how is she ever going to get home? For that matter, how am I going to get home?
