*First title in the Immortal Series*
"He's the one they tell you never to make a deal with."
After her parents agreed to give her to the infamous immortal, Fate, once she reached a certain age, Zayla has accepted her life as over. But not without a...
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• COMING SOON • To Wattpad and Radish
Word Count: 1354
Fate double-checked the address Seff had sent. The non-descript square building on the shadowy corner didn't even look like a bar. He didn't have much reason to doubt Nico and Seff, but he didn't have much reason to trust them, either. He soon realized there was very little in the world for him to be afraid of, and he pushed the door open. The bar was low lit and low-ceilinged. It was quieter than most. A jukebox stood in the corner and the twangy music played beneath the hum of low conversation.
Fate scanned the room, and his eyes were immediately drawn to her by some kind of homing beacon. Lucky sat at the bar, smiling and leaning toward a tall man in a red flannel shirt. Fate felt a surge of anger course through him and he focused on the man, trying to read his intentions.
Nothing.
Fate took a deep breath, though he suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. He'd felt this way all night, since he'd walked through his casino, unable to cast forward. He felt as though he were walking around without a coat on a freezing night. He glanced around, nervously. Nico was at the other end of the bar. She was leaning toward the bartender, whose eyes kept drifting down to her cleavage. As he watched, the dark-haired bartender came out from behind the bar and, grabbing Nico's hand, pulled her toward the door. Fate stepped out of the way before they passed.
Seff was still at the bar, with a beer in his hand. He looked disconsolate, but Fate was gratified to see him cast a glance down the bar at Lucky, keeping an eye on her.
His eyes back on Lucky, he watched the guy in the flannel shirt reach forward and tug one of her curls loose from behind her ear. As he rubbed it between his fingers, Fate felt a surge of jealousy.
This annoyed him. He was Fate. Why was he feeling jealous of a mere mortal, in a flannel shirt no less?
But, as Lucky smiled at the man, leaning forward to touch his knee, Fate began to picture himself in place of the man, so Lucky was leaning toward him, her fingers softly brushing his knee.
He shook his head. He didn't understand these feelings. He had a mate. She was lost, but she had been his mate. Divorces and separations and new starts were the fictions of mortals. He knew better.
The man with Lucky slid off his barstool. He tapped her on the nose, a silly gesture that made her laugh, before heading for the bathroom. Fate followed him.
He grabbed the guy roughly by the arm and pushed him against the graffiti-covered wall in the tiny bathroom. "Do you know who I am?" he hissed.
