gonna name them?” One of the chicks wandered out from under its mother, and I reached out to pet its fuzzy down feathers.
“I can’t name them or else I’ll get attached,” he groaned, extending a finger to pet another one that emerged. “Seriously, we’ll probably have to trade some of them for supplies while on the road, if you won’t let me cook ‘em.”
“I guess that’s better than watching them die with us,” I sighed.
“You’re already attached,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.
“How can I not be? They’re so cute.”
“Yeah, just wait ‘til the males grow up and start competing with King Foghorn over here.” Jandro rose to his feet, pulling me with him. “Guess I should let you get back to your tattoo.”
“Shadow told me we’d pick it up another day,” I sighed. “Those anejos last night thinned my blood enough to make me bleed during the inking.”
“So?” Jandro lifted an eyebrow.
“He said no drinking the day before,” I shrugged. “I assume it interferes with his work.”
“Never heard him give anyone that stipulation before.” Jandro scratched his head. “But whatever. What are you up to now?”
“I say we get you,” I poked his chest, “back inside before you burn and undo all that healing.”
“Hmm, now that you mention it.” I heard the grin in his voice as I turned back toward the house, Jandro following me with his fingertips on my waist. “I haven’t gotten anywhere near enough sexual healing.”
I giggled while sliding the door open, his plush lips already teasing the back of my neck. “That is a bold-faced lie. You get all of that in spades.”
“That’s the thing, mi Mariposita.” His mouth skimmed from my neck to my ear. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
Jandro was fast asleep a half-hour later, lulled into utter relaxation by me rubbing healing ointment into his back. He looked incredibly adorable hugging a pillow, lips parted slightly. I knew he'd never say it outright, but he seemed to relish his afternoon naps. He protested at first when I told him to take time off from the shop, but a sensual back rub with soothing balm shut him right up.
As luck would have it, the three remaining members of the Sons of Odin MC were competent bike mechanics and eager to make themselves useful. With the three of them helping out Slick and Larkan, Jandro wouldn’t even fall behind on his work while he recovered.
I slipped out of the bedroom quietly, Freyja following me with a high tail and her loud purr still rumbling.
"Do I have you to thank for that?" I cocked my head toward Jandro's sleeping form as I closed the door softly behind me.
Which part, the healing or the deep sleep?
The warm, omniscient voice made me stop in my tracks. It came from no discernable direction, but stroked over every inch of my skin like a hug. Oh, don't look so bug-eyed. You've heard me before.
"Guess I wasn't really expecting an answer." My feet started moving again, heading downstairs with my companion cat goddess at my side. Shadow was nowhere to be seen, which left the whole bottom floor empty except for me and Freyja.
I answer when a question piques my interest enough. Which is more than what can be said for Hades. She ran ahead of me and jumped up on the couch. Despite the complete lack of human gestures, I knew it was an invitation to sit and have a conversation.
"I thought you and Hades were practically the same." I lowered to the couch, keeping a few feet of distance between me and the cat.
Goodness no, child! What ever gave you that idea?
"Jandro said," I frowned, "when he was...unconscious, that you and Hades talked to him. You both convinced him to keep fighting and not let go. And from what Reaper explained to me, you're both gods of death from different pantheons."
Did it feel weird to be speaking those words out loud as part of a conversation with an actual deity? Abso-fucking-lutely. Did I still care about how crazy and unexplainable this all seemed? Not in the slightest. In the months of my life with the Steel Demons, I had seen and experienced too much to write it off as anything else.
Hades and I represent different aspects of one of humanity's many mysteries—death. And that's where our similarities end. His culture made him masculine, a stern overlord of a dark, cold afterlife, so that is the lens through which humanity perceives him.
"And