Page 27 of Definitely Dead

Chapter seven

Enteringtheirapartmentwithouta word, Sunne kicked his shoes off and removed his jacket to hang it on the hook by the door. Gauntlet thrown, challenge issued, he had anticipated a lot more kissing and groping.

Tyr wanted totalk.

With his mind a tangle of nerves and frustration, he didn’t immediately recognize that something had changed inside the unit. Not until he entered the living room to find a nest of thick blankets and fluffy pillows spread out on the floor in front of the fireplace.

What the hell?

Typically illuminated by a cheery light—like morning sun filtered through sheer curtains—the room was now lit with a soft romantic glow, a background ambience to the crackling fire. The magical flames that danced over the logs didn’t roar but burned gently, emitting a faint pink glow that filled the space.

And right there, in the middle of the stone hearth, was the profanely large bottle of lube he had hidden under the sink in the bathroom.

Sunne fisted his hands at his sides and swallowed back a groan. His apartment was a goddamn menace, and he honestly didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or die of embarrassment.

At the same time, he still vividly remembered what had happened the last time he had disrespected a gift. Plus, it did look pretty cozy.

Settling down on the soft pallet, he crisscrossed his legs, tucking his feet under him, and folded his hands in his lap while he waited for his mate to join him.

Tyr must have seen the giant bottle placed front and center, but he pretended not to notice it as he lowered himself onto the blankets, facing him and mirroring his position.

For a long time, they just stared at each other, neither of them speaking. The longer the silence stretched on, the heavier it felt, building the anticipation until Sunne couldn’t take it anymore.

“Whatever it is, just say it.”

In response, Tyr reached his hand out and wiggled his fingers. “Come over here,lelien.”

When Sunne took it, his mate pulled him across the blankets and into his lap, repositioning him so that his legs draped over the sides of the shifter’s powerful thighs. Then he settled his hands on Sunne’s hips, his fingers squeezing and kneading, a subtle show of nerves, even when his face remained impassive.

“I want you to listen,” he said, a slight strain in his voice. “This is important.”

Realizing this was a lot deeper than he had been thinking, Sunne nodded.

“You know what I am, right? My heritage?”

He nodded again. “A magical shifter. A berserker.”

Maybe even the origin of the Norse legends. Well, not Tyr specifically, but others like him.

“A hybrid,” Tyr added. “For shifters, claiming a mate is a blood bond, a joining of energies, of hearts. But for a mage, it’s deeper, more complicated. For a mage, the union is a soul bond, a merging of lifeforces. If I claim you, we would be bound in every way.”

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. He had been concerned Tyr had changed his mind, but it just sounded like he wanted Sunne to understand the mechanics.

And what he described sounded kind of poetic. Two hearts beating as one. Two halves of one soul. His mate looked too serious for it to be that easy, though, which meant he was probably missing something.

“Our lives would be so intertwined that if the connection was severed, if one of us died—”

“The other would too,” Sunne finished, panic surfacing as understanding dawned. “But I’m already dead.”

Tyr’s fingers tightened reflexively around his hips. “Yes.”

“What does that mean? What would happen to you if you claimed me? Would you die?” He started shaking his head before he’d even finished speaking. “No. No way.”

“Calm down,lelien.” Arching his neck, Tyr brushed their lips together. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sunne accepted another kiss with a quiet sigh. “Then what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know anyone else in the Underworld who has claimed a soul as a mate. I don’t even know if it will work.”

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