Eye of the Beholder

EXCERPT

Halloween snuck up on me. It was the duchess’s favorite holiday and La Rose would be packed, and not just with paranormals, but with college kids enrolled at the university. Fresh blood. She invited me personally and let me know that Cassius would be joining in the festivities. Great. Now I felt obligated to go. But what should I go as? No one would be admitted without a costume.

What would Cassius be?

It’s a surprise, he’d texted me one night when I’d asked him. I think you’ll appreciate it.

I was dusting the nightstand in Dain’s old room when I got inspired. I picked up the one and only picture we had together. We’d gone to Disneyland, of all places, and there we were, both wearing sunglasses, me with a cocky smile and holding a thick wad of cotton candy. Dain didn’t smile, and he looked brutish and so-serious. Yet he’d been the one to insist on the picture and had taken it himself. Our faces were close together, and I remembered the weight of his arm when he’d wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me close. In the background was Cinderella’s castle.

“I miss you,” I whispered. I set the picture down and finished dusting before I left, shutting the door behind me.

Dain hadn’t been his real name. He’d chosen it from Old Norse mythology. He was always partial to the dwarves. And that’s what I would be. I was going to be a dwarf. I hurried to my phone and rang Nicole.

“Shields and Steel, this is Nicole, how my I help you?”

“I need a costume, stat. Can you help me?”

Silence. Then, “How much you willing to pay?”

“How much you wanting to charge me?”

She snorted. “Come on by, you idiot.”

I grinned and hung up.

There would be a scavenger hunt, candy galore, special drinks, and dutifully cheesy décor. I was armed and ready. Literally. I brought my biggest forging hammer and everything. I had to remove my beard for the bouncer to confirm my identity before he’d let me in. The place was packed. As expected, most costumes were of the “barely-there” type… sexy nurses and teachers and doctors, of all genders. I hadn’t gone to one of these in a few years, and I’d apparently forgotten the amount of flesh that would be on display. I might have been considered out of place with my fully-covering costume but I didn’t care.

I made my way to the bar, keeping an eye out for Cassius and the duchess. I squinted at her VIP alcove that was cordoned off on its own. I noted a few thralls but no duchess.

“Jesse!” I shouted and held up two fingers.

He took one look at me and laughed, nodding in approval. I grinned and casually swung my hammer, easily avoiding hitting anyone. I pushed to the bar, past two risqué zombies that looked way too hot to be rotting corpses, and snatched the drinks.

“You seen Cassius?” I asked.

Jesse nodded toward the end of the bar.

“Thanks.”

I took my drinks and made my way past a dizzying amount of people. The low light didn’t allow me to notice the details of many of the costumes—though everyone I bumped into had certainly put creativity and effort in their appearances. Apparently the bouncers had been told to keep out the lazy folks.

A shoving match ensued right next to me, and one of the idiots shoved into me. I couldn’t catch myself in time and ended up slamming into someone’s back and spilling both of my drinks. At least I didn’t drop my hammer on anyone’s foot.

“Fucking idiots.” I pushed away from the person’s back that felt weirdly like armor. I steadied myself. “Sorry, I—”

I stopped. I stared.

Even as he turned, I knew who it was, and I recognized his costume. How could I not? Cassius grinned upon seeing me. I swept my gaze from head to foot, admiring not only the replica Centurion armor but the way it fit him. Clearly tailored to fit his frame, he looked every bit the soldier and appeared even taller and broader. Truly an intimidating sight, even off the battlefield. The segmented armored breastplate and shoulder plates gleamed under the colored lights and the red stood out starkly against his pale skin. His firm legs were on full display and he even wore the open leather boots. There was the sword I’d made him at his side, along with a dagger, and his extravagate helmet sat on the bar, the plumage along the top as red as his tunic and cloak.

I tried not to swallow my tongue.

He took a step back and put on the helmet, the cheek and neck guards obscuring most of his face, before setting one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What do you think?” he asked.

My mouth was dry. I tried to clear my throat and push out sound. “You’re supposed to come as you’re not.”

He grinned wider. “You disapprove?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Thank God my voice was steady. And thank God my costume was a bit bulky to give me fake heft and covered any obvious erection from sight. “You didn’t cut your hair.”

He chuckled. “I’m not that devoted to the performance.” He took off the helmet and set it back on the bar. “I admire your costume. You’re a dwarf, yes?”

I forced myself to smile and tried not to ogle. “Yep. I’m Brokkr, the dwarf that made Thor’s Hammer.”

Cassius smiled. “I thought that was Eitri.”

“Brokkr did all the work.”

He chuckled. “I know the tale well. I met a few Vikings in my younger years.”

I sighed heavily. “I hate it when you say things like that.”

He laughed. “You love it.”