Immortals Book 3

My life has turned into the world’s worst game of “look, but don’t touch.”

I might be immortal, but at this rate, I’m gonna die never having had sex with Blake.

Nope. I’m basically Sisyphus with his big friggin’ boulder—striving but never achieving his release.

Poor bastard.

Maybe I should just face my reality and accept the fact that Ren’s concerns for my shriveled bits have been perfectly validated.

Then again, this time I blame his sorry ass.

“I get what you’re saying, Ren, but I don’t understand why he can’t stay here with you,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Where did my snarky edge go? In days past, I would have told him where to shove it and moved on with my day.

Ren is ridiculous.

“I can’t be cooped up with Gollum for a week while you go off gallivanting across the continental United States,” he practically squeaks, annunciating the last few words with perfect punctuation. It’s almost as if he truly believes he’s the one who’s being put out here.

Gods, what I wouldn’t give to put out. I mean, er...

I take a sip of my campfire mocha, letting my gaze flit to the street outside the window of our booth. Ruby Moon Coffee Shop used to hold an energy of power for me. If for no other reason than the notion there was a potion of magic beans inside that could perk my inundated brain up. Now, it’s mixed with so many odd emotions—agitation, sympathy, the inklings of love, and yes, even lust.

The booth Ren and I are sitting in is the only one I’ll ever sit at now...thanks to Blake.

Sighing to myself return my attention to Renaldo.

He eyes me incredulously. “I have a reputation to uphold, and he’s cramping my style, Diana.”

“Why? Because he does your old job better than you did?” I scoff, arching an eyebrow.

Ever since I promoted Renaldo to manager of Inner Sanctum Books and Gifts, Kyros has stepped up to fill Ren’s old shoes—and in essence, his old role when I was the Oracle at Delphi. It’s been a couple of days and already I have a better level of clientele coming in for readings.

I haven’t had to do a single true-love match, or help an old lady find their pet, or talk to their dead husband because Kyros turns them all away and directs them to a psychic in Atlanta.

It’s been blissful.

Granted, I’d never tell either of them that.

“People already think he’s the ‘cute old grandpa’ working for us. Good gawd, don’t you have any dignity, woman?” Ren’s head bobs from side to side, clearly triggered, as he spits, “You just like him because he’s punctual.”

I nod, spying the clock on the wall behind the coffee bar. It’s already gone 10 a.m. and here we sit at the coffee shop. Kyros is manning the shop solo and I’m quite sure he’s been there since well before eight. “Yes, I really do.”

His face crumples.

I tap the side of my cup, trying to be the voice of reason. “Look, Ren... Blake and I won’t be gone all that long. Besides, it’s not the kind of trip that Kyros does best with. He’s better off here with you, making sure things are running smoothly for when we get back. This is recon in Windhaven, nothing more.”

“But a week?” he whines, his shoulders drooping. He looks like a child who’s been told he can’t get a toy at the store.

“Oh, behave. At least you only have to deal with him at work. Aiden will be doing the heavy lifting here. Not you.” I throw him a knowing look.

Aiden, for whatever reason, has graciously offered to keep tabs on Kyros for us while we’re gone. That means eating, sleeping, and making sure he stays out of trouble. Had it not been for Kyros’s ability to teleport himself, he even offered to wake up well before his normal time of noon, just to make sure Kyros would be to work on time.

Basically, Aiden is the Kyros-keeper of all the time not spent at Inner Sanctum.

Aiden was obviously dropped on his head as a baby. Either that or all the tech he uses has scrambled his brain.

Could go either way.

“Are you kidding me? Kyros is the same mental age as Blake’s man-child. The two of them deserve one another,” Ren says, swiping away my comment with the stroke of his hand. Then, he presses his fingertips to his chest in a splayed fashion. “I, on the other hand, will go completely mental. Can you imagine? My wine intake will increase exponentially.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so dramatic. “Darling, you’re already mental. It’s part of your charm.” He huffs and a smirk slides across my lips. “What are you really afraid of? Kyros rubbing off on you?”

The thought makes me chuckle to myself.

An image of Ren dressed in baggy jeans (to let the breeze in) and some sort of novelty t-shirt declaring his masculinity flashes into my mind.

I stifle the giggles bursting at the seams.

Ren’s eyes widen. “That is not funny, Diana Hawthorne.”

The giggles erupt between my fingers. “Oh, if you could see what I see, it’s totally funny.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.” His eyebrows flatten, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Of course, I’m not. Ren, Blake, and I need to do this alone and you could use the help here. Besides, I thought you’d be jumping for joy at this. Haven’t you been waiting with bated breath for Blake and I to have some alone time?” I say, pressing home the point circling around in my brain, with the hopes it might make him flinch. I stare into the depth of his eyes until he squirms in the booth.

As much as I want this trip to unearth information about my next mission from Apollo, the only thing on my mind is easing the aching in my body with each day that passes. The sensation is worsening the more I let my guard down with Blake. But neither one of us is trying to rush the bus here. For one reason or another, we’ve been either too scared or too busy to get...busy.

However, I swear, sometimes I can sense his own desire pulsing through him and it’s totally distracting. Sometimes, though, it’s like we share a connection deeper than I’m even aware and it’s worming its way out through our abstinence.

In the final quiet times of the day, when I open my connection to him, I feel a low pulse radiating between us and I wish I could revel in it.

Ren holds up a hand between us. “Diana bloody Hawthorne, don’t you dare use that against me. You know damn well I’ve been waiting nearly a decade for you to bump uglies with someone. As much as I’d die to live vicariously through you, with all your new sex, new love bliss—and believe me, I would—because that man is H. O. T. hawt,”—he fans the side of his face—“my concerns are far bigger than that.”

“Since when?” I snicker.

Conflicted feelings roll through Renaldo’s aura as he fights the truths in his previous statement.

“Oh, for the love. Just deal with it, would you?” I mutter, taking another sip of my drink.

“But—”

“Kyros is staying here. End of discussion,” I say, fusing my dominance into the words. As fun as it is to banter with Ren, there does come a point when I need to step up and be the one in charge. Ren’s shoulders slump and I take it as a sign he’s going to accept his new, albeit temporary reality. “Besides,” I continue, easing back my tone, “with the exception of me being gone, it’s not like your daily routines will be all that different. You still work together every day in the exact same way.”

Ren eyes me, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his radioactively green iced bubble something-or-other. “While that might be true, I get a blissful reprieve when I bitch to you about going insane. Who am I going to confide in now, Diana? Are you going to pick up your non-existent cellphone every time I ring you?” His expression deadpans. “It’s not like I have a direct mental connection to you.”

My eyes roll to the ceiling and it becomes super apparent Max needs to repaint soon. I return a fixed stare at Ren. “Is this what it’s really about? Kyros’s mental connection with me? You’re jealous?”

Ren scoffs. “Psh—no.”

I take another swig of my mocha, slowly arching an eyebrow. “Mhmm.”

“It’s not. I just...” he sighs. “Well, you traumatized me last time you went gallivanting with your hottie. You came back with that monstrosity. What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, please.” I lean back in the booth, eyeing my cup, and wishing it had something stronger mixed in.

“At the very least, can you do something about Kyros and his…”—he shudders—“attire? I mean, if I have to spend one more day working beside the old man, the least he can do is wear something that doesn’t have a lame saying across his chest. He’s like a walking meme that’s well past its prime.”

My eyebrows scrunch as I try to place the definition of the word he just tossed out. When I come up empty, I ask, “What is a meme again?”

Ren throws his hands up in exasperation.

“What? I’m not up with all the newfangled techie talk,” I huff, still racking my brain.

For as psychic as I am, I wish I could recall some of the more mundane things like this on a whim. It would make things way easier at times.

“Forget it. Christ, it’s like I’m dealing with a ninety-year-old gramma in a twenty-something’s body,” he says, thrusting his hand out and suggesting me. “No wonder your bits don’t know the next step.”

“Hey,” I fire back.

Except, he’s kinda not wrong.

Gods know I don’t understand a word about this new era of modern technology, despite looking like I should.

The sex stuff, though... I think I can remember the moves there.

He continues, “No matter which way you look at it, shit just ain’t gonna make sense.” He takes another swig of his toxic-looking drink and his gaze drifts out across the quiet street.

Ren is right about the other thing, too. Kyros could dress a bit better. Even I have to cringe at his choices at times, but I don’t have the heart to tell him he needs to pivot.

“Fine, what do you propose we do? I’m not going to be here to dress him every day. He needs advice on how to dress appropriately, and I’m not the one to do that either,” I say, hoping he has a game-plan if he’s bringing it up. Besides, appropriate isn’t always my go-to, either. But for Kyros, a bit of up-leveling wouldn’t go amiss. Unfortunately, a part of me doubts any amount of window dressing will change all that. He seems to enjoy the shirts he wears so much and who am I to tell someone they shouldn’t dress the way they like?

Ren leans forward, his eyes glinting with intention and even a hint of excitement.

Recognition dawns and I chuckle under my breath.

Ah...of course. This is what he’s really been waiting for. My permission.

“Oh, no... I’ve seen that look before,” I begin, tapping the handle on my mug with my middle finger as I wait for it.

“Well, see, I’m so glad you asked,” Ren says, as a slow, bordering on evil grin spreads across his features. “He obviously needs a new wardrobe. Of course, I’ll do the heavy lifting here, like always, but if you can front him the cash and give your approval on the new attire—because let’s face it, I can’t do everything—then I suppose I can make this work.”

I narrow my gaze. “I’m so glad you’re willing to take one for the team.”

“It’s gonna be hard, but I’ll do my best.” He beams back at me.

“I’m sure,” I mutter into my cup.

“Well, now that all of that’s cleared up, we need to go over your plans to seduce that sexy man of yours,” Ren says, steepling his fingertips against his chin and grinning like a mad scientist. “I have a few ideas...”