WHAT JOKE
Did you freeze the rabbit earlier?
WHAT RABBIT
Seriously, bro... Do you smell burned toast? Are you having a stroke? Should I call 911?
I’m laughing maniacally, alone, in my truck.
You’re a fucking genius.
K, calling the ambulance now...
Still chuckling, I drop my phone in one of the cup holders and start my truck. While my laughter fades, that feeling of unease remains, and I find myself reaching under my seat to seek out the comforting touch of the handgun I have hidden there—a Heckler & Koch HK45C.
My shoulders relax a little, and I draw in a deep breath even as my eyes continue to scan my narrow, forested driveway.
It had to have been Beau.
Right?
VIOLETTE
Shame has a certain familiar nausea twisting in my gut. He didn’t even eat my courtship offering. Just tossed it in a frozen storage cube before going about his day. How could that be? My logic kicks in to soothe my wounded ego—perhaps he didn’t realize the significance?
But how much more obvious could I be?
Surely, humans at least have this simple and basic ritual—as do most beings I’ve come across. Though I do tend to avoid human realms. They are… a reckless and unpredictable sort that seems to rush into everything with a haste that reflects their unfathomably short lifespans.
Perhaps they don’t have any formal courting rituals for this very reason?
Still, it seems inconceivable when evenmoths—not merely the highly evolved Noctarions, but also the insects—have mating rituals.
My mind ponders for several moments... Many beings utilize scent-marking. Perhaps humans are among them?
Resolution fills me as I fold into my idiotic male’s bedroom, eyes scanning his personal belongings—dark wood furniture, what I assume are some military awards and photos of aslightly younger version of himself—though just as world-weary—holding large guns, dressed in a rather flattering uniform, and skin marked with significantly fewer tattoos.
He is undeniably stunning.
Gradually, I manage to shift my attention to land on a tall shelf, replete with books. Scanning each of the titles tells me mysoulboundhas a fascination with spacetime, relativity, string theory, quantum mechanics...
The books come to a halt.
Only to be replaced with…dolls?
Sculpted creatures I’ve never seen before, non-human-looking people, and, to my surprise, even a few fae or elves, plus a man dressed in a bizarrely tight blue one-piece suit with a thick red S-shape in the center of his chest.
Just as I shift to turn away, my gaze snags on two males that are nearly identical effigies of two gods. One of whom is holding a very large, fancy hammer, the other a tall staff. Both have paid visits to me on numerous occasions at my former brothel. I might even call them friends.
If I had any.
I don’t.
Not anymore. Not since Thessaly and Horus.
But I know their bodies better than they do, and right now, I am, without a doubt, staring into the miniature faces of Tor, God of Thunder, Storms, and Protection, and his adopted brother, Loptr, the shape-shifting God of Chaos.
Does my human have connections to these beings?