Hello Readers! Thank you all for your patience while I took some much-needed time away, but I am back! If you follow me online then you already know I took a break due to severe burnout thanks to my mental health, juggling writing and my regular job. Because of this, moving forward I am unable to post chapters daily and do not have a set schedule. But, what I will be doing is uploading large batches of chapters when they become available so that the waiting at least feels worth it. I hope you enjoy this return batch of chapters.
I lean back in my chair just as the waitress walks over and places what I can only describe as a plate of grass in front of Derrick who smiles and thanks her. “What can I get you to eat or drink?” she asks me, but my eyes are focused on the monstrosity in front of Derrick. “What is that?” I ask him. “My lunch?” “Yes, but what IS it?” I ask in horror. “It’s s salad,” he asks in bewilderment. “No, no, no. That is not a salad. That is food for sheep and people who do yoga, and you are neither a sheep nor someone who does yoga.” I turn my attention to the waitress, “I will have the eggs benedict with extra bacon on the side, and he will have the same,” I instruct with a broad smile. “Umm…” she drawls hesitantly, probably thinking I’m a controlling bitch. “I will also give you a thirty-dollar tip.” “Two eggs benedict with extra bacon coming right up,” she says brightly before dashing downstairs to the kitchen. “Gabriella,” Derrick sighs. “Don’t go saying my name with that exaspe
The lights are flashing, the music is pumping, the drinks are flowing, and I’m drowning in tips. Let’s be real, how many people can say they have a job that is genuinely fun and exciting? I know it’s a pretty common practice for people to hate and complain about their jobs, but I love mine. I get to spend paid time somewhere that’s like a second home to me, surrounded by all my friends and for the most part, really nice patrons. I’m either working behind the bar, or I’m up on stage dancing like there’s no tomorrow and gracing the crowd with the voice nature gave me. I couldn’t imagine being stuck behind a desk, or worse, working retail. I shudder at the thought. The music transitions into playing that summer banger from a few years back Rush by Troye Sivan and almost immediately I see several shirts come off on the dancefloor. My eyes lock with Cassandra who is working behind the bar with me, as we begin to sing and dance along while we serve the customers. “Can I get two Singapore
I freeze with my hand on the door handle as every libidinous thought quickly exits my brain. I slowly turn to face my former seducer with distrustful eyes. “What did you just call me?” I ask. He quirks a bushy but sculpted brow, “Gabriella?” “How the hell do you know my name?” I ask accusingly as the redhead looks between us in amusement, taking a shot of tequila and downing it like it was water. “I asked around,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Bullshit,” I clap back, crossing my arms over my chest. The look of shock on this man’s face is as if no one has ever dared speak back to him. Well, he’s in for a rude awakening. I don’t care if he has the body of a 28-year-old Adonis with hair whiter than pure amphetamines. “Why exactly do you think that’s bullshit?” he asks with genuine curiosity. “Because we have a code here, no one on staff refers to anyone by their real name and we sure as fuck don’t go handing out each other’s personal and private information to strangers. It’s a safety
“Talk. Okay, sure,” I say, taking out my earbuds and placing them on my coffee table along with my bag. “You can talk about how the hell we are now in my apartment and how the fuck you know where I live?” I almost screech at him. “I believe you humans describe it as teleporting,” he says nonchalantly, but with a defensive crease in his eyes. “You humans? Oh, right, because you’re a God,” I mock. “I don’t appreciate the derision in your voice and I’m not the type of person to tolerate being mocked. You almost got yourself killed and had I not been watching you–” “I knew it! I KNEW you were watching me!” I exclaim, relieved to know that feeling I had all night wasn’t in my head. “And it’s a good thing I was, or your fragile form would have been a corpse on the sidewalk!” he booms with such ferocity I swear it makes the entire room shake. He takes a breath and composes himself, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he apologises looking contrite. “I need a drink,” I say as
I have existed longer than anyone can even begin to comprehend. In that time I have witnessed the birth of galaxies and have even destroyed a few. I have power beyond one's wildest dreams and yet, standing inside that tiny loft, telling that curvaceous and fragile spitfire what I am and what she is to me, I’ve never felt more powerless and insignificant. She confounds me in ways no one ever has. I don’t even know her and yet I find myself already changing around her. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say she’s turning me into someone I used to be. Someone I thought died a long time ago. As I pour myself a large drink, I feel the air shift and I look up to see Ezillus standing bright-eyed in my living area. “So, how did everything go?” they ask with a shit-eating grin as they lazily sit down on my lapis circular sectional placing their feet up on my marble coffee table. I walk out from around the bar sipping my drink, “Get your feet off my table,” I bark, walking over and sitting on
“Holy shit that worked,” she says in surprise. I smirk at the adorable, shocked look on her face. “I’m surprised you called for me so soon. Or were you just testing to see if it would work?” I ask, quirking a curious brow. I know she told me not to, but I just can’t help myself, I’m dying to know what she’s thinking. 'Fuck me, even with his hair up in a ponytail he looks fine as hell! Definitely love the hair down more though, means something I can grab onto,' she muses to herself. Now this is a train of thought I greatly enjoy and hope to one day put into action. She straightens up, pours two large glasses of wine and picks up a notepad off the coffee table, my eyes following her every move with obsessive accuracy. “I have decided that there are too many things I don’t know or understand, and before I can make any type of decision about you there are questions I need answered,” she says firmly. Curious to see where this is going, I take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, “W
My nostrils flare and I feel heat prickle up my spine, but I manage to reign myself in. She is not someone I wish to snap at. “You have a lot of nerve to show such disrespect. Has it not yet sunk in that you’re talking to a God?” I say bitingly. “Has it not yet sunk in that I don’t care? I mean, whatcha gonna do, smite me?” she says mockingly before her body slumps in confusion, “What does smite even mean?” I stare at her, once again stupefied by her ambivalence to the fact she’s talking to a God. She genuinely doesn’t give a flying fuck. She’s the first person besides the Gods themselves to never fear me. On one hand, I don’t want her to fear me, but on the other, it’s disconcerting to have such a weaker species feel no fear or reverence for me. I’m not accustomed to it, and I don’t like it. “It means to strike with a firm blow,” I begrudgingly answer. She snorts, “That’s it? So all this time when people talk about being smited by God they just mean God’s gonna smack a hoe? That
I stir awake as the delicious smell of waffles tickles my nose. I love waffles! My eyes fly open to see a tray on the bed beside me containing a glass of orange juice and a stack of waffles. Crispy, yet fluffy golden grids of goodness, with each pocket holding a sweet little mixture of butter and maple syrup. I have to gulp down the saliva building up in my mouth before it drools out onto my pillow. I quickly sit up and find Jartre sitting on the edge of the bed watching me in amusement, his long snowy white hair cascading around his gorgeous face almost glowing in the light of the morning sun. Fucking hell, does he always look this amazing? “Now I know how to wake you up; bribe you with food,” he chuckles, his deep rumbling laugh reminding me of thunder, which seems incredibly apt given what I now know. “You made me breakfast?” I ask in surprise, then only realise now that he’s still here in my loft, “You stayed the night?” “I more accurately conjured breakfast, but it will taste