"But I haven't showered or changed clothes."
He nodded. "Plan changed. The new plan works best with what you are wearing."
She inspected her Raven Weaver T-shirt, black leggings, and sneakers. She didn't want to go out with Thor wearing work clothes.
"All right." She turned to the bar as the other patrons eyed her and Thor.
"Elle?" Thor took a step forward.
She turned, and he leaned into her ear. "Hold your head up. Make eye contact with people. It's the only way they will respect you."
Hold her head up? Make eye contact? He sounded like Val. The idea was simple enough, but when it'd been beaten into her for longer than she could remember, that doing those things would earn her a thrashing, she didn't know how to.
She lifted her eyes and swallowed hard as she walked to the bar and set down her tray.
Val still hadn't returned to the other side of the bar. "You good?"
Elle nodded.
Val looked like she might say something more. Instead, she jumped back over in one fluid movement.
Kirsten walked to Elle. "Why don't you take off. You've had a long shift. I’ll be fine until Merda arrives."
"Are you sure?" Elle asked.
"She'll be here in thirty. I can handle these morons. They're not stupid enough to be handsy with me." Kirsten winked at her.
"What makes you different?"
"When I first started working here, my brother made his presence known for the first month on every one of my shifts. He's a Hell's Angel. No one messes with Hell's Angels."
Elle's brows scrunched together. "I thought angels in hel were called Helborn."
Kirsten burst into a laugh. "You're funny. I love you, girl."
Elle wasn't sure what she'd said that was funny.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Where are we going?"
Thor walked through the portal back to Helheim with Elle in tow. They stepped into the Helheim side of The Raven Weaver, and Thor led Elle through the throng of immortals and Helmarked- those marked by Hel to remain in her realm and serve her. The immortals glanced at him but turned away. But the Helmarked stared at Elle, their hungry eyes devouring her every step. They who could never leave unless commanded to by Hel. Thor rounded the bar, and Elle pressed closer to him. He fought the urge to take her hand or put his arm around her. He told himself it would only be for her safety, but he couldn't lie. He would be doing it to make himself feel better, and to make sure all the Helmarked knew she wasn't to be messed with. Not unless they wanted to deal with him.
They made their way to the exterior door, and he opened it. She paused and bit her lip before stepping into the muggy, dim light.
Once outside, Thor again fought the urge to take her hand.
"Are we going to Lady Frigg’s?"
"No," he said. "I was going to take you to one of my favorite places to eat, but I decided there was something more pressing we needed to do."
"More pressing?"
He looked at her angelic face, the soft glow of street lamps catching on the delicate curve of her cheek. Her expression was a tempest of emotions, a balance between trust and terror. Her wide eyes glistened, reflecting both the flickering light and the unspoken anxiety that churned within her. The soft rise and fall of her chest betrayed her rapid breathing, though she tried to steady herself, holding his gaze as if tethering herself to him.
Even in something as unremarkable as a plain black shirt and worn leggings, her effortless beauty was breathtaking in its simplicity. The shirt clung to her frame, dampened by sweat, outlining the gentle slope of her shoulders and the curve of her waist. Her leggings were speckled with pretzel crumbs and smudges from their hurried escape. It wasn’t what she wore, but how she wore it. Raw and real, stripped of pretense, like a masterpiece left unfinished yet more profound for its imperfections.
"Elle, you need to learn to take care of yourself. Both in Midgard and Helheim,” he said. “If you don't, you'll be eaten alive."
