Don’t be fooled. He may look innocent, but he’s got murder in his eyes.
Lyall replies with a voice message. “Are they dangerous?”
I bark a laugh at the very real concern in his voice, causing some people to stare at me, but I don’t care.
Very. Five out of ten people are killed by seagulls every year.
Lyall replies,“By this little bird? If they’re so dangerous, why are they allowed free?”
I cover my mouth but can’t hold back my laughter.
Who knows? This city’s gone to the dogs.
“Dogs are responsible for this?” Lyall sounds both baffled and horrified.
Oh right. He’s not familiar with the sayings and slang of this time. I probably shouldn’t say those things all the time then, just out of respect—but his reactions are really fucking funny, so I’m gonna do it anyway.
I quicken my pace until I spot him sitting on one of the stone benches and glaring at the seagull still perched on the railing. “You know,” I say as I approach, “there are some places where dogs and cats are mayors of towns.”
“You jest,” he says, huffing. He stands, and my heart trips as he comes closer. We stand toe to toe. We’re roughly the same height, so his lips are tantalizingly within reach. His hand drifts along my hip, just touching, not demanding. “You look good today.”
My face flushes. “Thanks. So do you.”
His throat bobs, and his eyes catch on my mouth. Heat flares low in my stomach.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “Kept thinking about you.”
The corner of Lyall’s mouth tips up. “Good thoughts?”
I grin and lean in until his breath warms my lips. His lips smell of mint, cool and fresh. “Very, very good.”
A low laugh rumbles in his chest. “My memories of last night are a bit… blurry. Kiss me again, love. It may just spark my memory.”
I don’t need telling twice. The low, pleased sound Lyall makes when I take his lips in a deep, lingering kiss makes my heart flip. It’s chaste and sweet, and when we pull apart, I want to dive back in for another taste. Lyall leans his forehead against mine, eyes still closed, a smile on his flushed lips.
“Gods. I could kiss you until the end of the world and it would never be enough.”
My heart races with joy. “Is there an afterlife in Norse myths?”
“Aye. Warriors go to Valhalla to join Odin’s army and prepare for Ragnarok. Those who do not die in battle go to Hel’s realm.”
“Hell? That sounds scary.”
Lyall chuckles. “No. Not the Christian idea of Hell. Helheim. Hel cares for the souls who die of sickness or old age. She is supposedly quite fearsome to gaze upon but tender-hearted.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, maybe when we die, we can go there. That way, we’ll still be able to kiss, even in death.”
Lyall smiles, making the sunlight feel dimmer by comparison, and I realize I’ve essentially said I want to be with him for the rest of our lives and on into the afterlife.
Oops. So much for taking things slow.
Swinging an arm over my shoulders, he leads me toward the boats. “That’s a good idea. To tell the truth, Helheim was always more appealing to me than Valhalla. I want to die in my bed, surrounded by my family. I’d rather spend my life farming than fighting.”
“Honestly? Sounds good to me.”
Lyall squeezes me close. “Anders used to tease me for it, but he has a family and a nice, cozy life with his mate. Dying in battle seems a worthy death until you’ve found someone you want to live for. Now, enough talk of death, we have memories to explore.”
“What will we see today?”
