Page 18 of Definitely Dead

“I’m going to get some coffee.” He pried his gaze away from the Guardian and focused on Sunne. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“Cool. I’ll meet you at the dock.” He glanced at Tyr again, his lips curved into a wicked grin. “See ya,Daddy.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Tyr growled as they watched Aster jog toward the diner.

“Tyr, he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” he warned. “Don’t fucking say it. I don’t care if he’s a kid, or if he’s already dead. I’m going to kill him.”

Sunne pressed his lips together and dipped his head. Telling his mate to calm down would only piss him off more. Plus, he kind of got it, even if he didn’t share in Tyr’s frustration. Sure, Aster could be a bit much, but the guy was starting to grow on him.

Like toe fungus.

Irritating, but ultimately harmless.

Still, probably best to change the subject. “Do you always oversee the supply drops?”

“No, not always. I rotate with Rune and Sindri.” His nostrils flared as he huffed out a breath. “Today was supposed to be Sindri’s turn, but he’s topside with Orrin.”

From context clues, he guessed Sindri to be another Guardian, though he hadn’t met the guy, and Tyr had never spoken of him before. “Is it just the three of you?”

“Here? Yeah.”

Of all the things he’d learned about the Underworld, discovering his mate wasn’t actually dead had been the biggest mindfuck. When they had met in that alley, he had naturally assumed Tyr was another soul like him. Knowing the shifter could leave and return to the mortal world whenever he wanted—a place Sunne couldn’t follow—still sparked a bit of panic whenever he thought about it.

“What are they doing topside?” he asked to cover his discomfort. “Or is it like top secret god stuff?”

Tyr wound an arm around his waist to help him navigate the shifting sands as they made their way down the hill toward the riverbank. “Nothing like that,” he said with a chuckle. “Sunday dinner at the palace.”

A displaced elfin prince with the powers of a god, who helped lost souls and still made time to share a meal with his family. He couldn’t make this shit up.

“That’s really sweet.”

His mate grunted, possibly in agreement, but with him, Sunne could never be sure.

A crowd had started to gather at the end of the pier, largely consisting of shopkeepers or their assistants. Some carried tattered canvas bags, while others pulled carts on wobbly wheels behind them. He recognized Helen from the bakery, and Clarice, an ancient-looking woman who darned clothes for the village’s residents.

“I don’t see Cian.”

“He doesn’t come down here.”

Sunne blinked. “Ever?”

“Nope. He always sends someone else to pick up his stuff.”

Interesting, but not really any of his business. “Do you think there will be ingredients for cinnamon rolls?”

Even as the words left his mouth, wooden crates and woven baskets began appearing at the end of the dock.

Tyr took his hand, tugging him to get him walking again, and smiled. “Let’s find out.”

Chapter five

Therehadnotbeeningredients for cinnamon rolls.

To his credit, Sunne had taken the news in stride with only minor disappointment. Or so he’d claimed.

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