“I’m fine. The queen’s healers fixed me up remarkably well.” Her voice caressed my skin.

  “I never got to say I love you.” My hands shook as they found hers.

  “I love you too,” she said, placing a kiss on my brow, then my nose, then my mouth. It was as if everything else faded away and there was only her.

  “The queen is a raging liberal, ready to fight the injustices of the mortal realm,” I whispered against her lips. Priya laughed loudly and threw her head back.

  “What?” she giggled, her eyes sparkling.

  “I’ll tell you more about it later. But right now, more kissing and less talking!” I pulled her on top of me, smashing my lips against hers.

  “You started talking first!” she said against my neck as her lips trailed down.

  “Semantics. Anyways, no more work today. We already saved the world. We get a day off,” I replied as she sat up, straddling my hips and smiling down.

  “Say it again,” she said, her golden eyes simmering.

  “I love you,” I smiled goofily at her. “I love you, I love you, I love you! ” I started shouting deliriously. We both collapsed in a fit of giggles at my ridiculous outburst. I grabbed her hands and intertwined our fingers. “I love you,” I whispered quietly.

  “I love you too,” Priya said.

  Then we got lost in one another…again and again.

  The new world could wait. Right now, I was simply happy to be in the arms of the one I love, fighting for a better tomorrow.

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  This book was extremely difficult for me to write because it has a lot of borrowed events from my life. The broken engagement, the sexuality awakening, and so many other bits and pieces of my own story that I was very wary to share. But we all have messy parts, and this love story is one of my favorites.

  I love being able to explore my own journey with others, with my own twists and turns and, of course,…with magic! I wanted this story to be entertaining, light, and fluffy in a way that makes your heart smile.

  Additionally, the book was incredibly hard to edit. This is my second book, and it’s a stand-alone. I didn't want to be finished with the characters or this story, but every good story has to have an ending.

  I felt that, because I had done this self-publishing thing once already, I would know exactly how this one needed to go. Turns out, I didn’t! And that’s okay! Each book, and each story, is different and has many different needs. Lincoln and Priya needed a little extra editing and love to make this story complete.

  It was really important to me to get as many LGBTQIA+ people working on this project as possible, and I am really proud of the work everyone did to make this book a reality.

  Remember that your own sexuality isn’t dependent on who your partner is. Your identity is still valid despite who you are, or are not, in a relationship with. I am still working to figure out what label fits me best, and it may be that no label is perfect. But I know, for sure, that the label of “straight” is not it.

  Thank you for going on this journey with me. I am humbled and honored that you would want to read what floats through my head.

  Reviews on Amazon and Goodreads are so helpful to independent authors. Additionally, if you chat about it on social media, please tag me! I would love to hear from you all.

  I write to tell important stories and make connections. I hope this book brought you a little magic, love, and joy.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the entire army of people who helped make this book possible.

  Thank you to my parents, for their unwavering support.

  Thank you to my partner, Logan, who absolutely believed in me every single step of the way and is truly the genderbender match to my bisexual chaos.

  Thank you to my book besties and followers, who cheered me on from the beginning, especially Hannah. You are an absolute rockstar.

  Thank you to my beta readers, Claire and Sam. You helped me see more clearly than I ever did before.

  Thank you to Sydney, my editor and Booktok friend. I am so thankful to have you here with me.

  Thank you Sam, for polishing this story and making it truly shine.

  Thank you to Allison and Belle, from Love Letter Creative, for the beautiful cover.

  Thank you to my other friends and family who have stood by me as I’ve pursued this wild ride of self-publishing.

  Thank you to all the queer people who came before me, whose stories we’ve never heard and who paved the way for all of us who are discovering who we are. I was lucky enough to have a supported journey, but I know not everyone has this luxury or privilege, especially my friends in the BIPOC, trans, and fat community.

  Thank you to all my Booktokers. I would, literally, not be able to take this journey without you all. You’ve been my cheerleaders and readers through it all. Thank you for being phenomenal.

  And finally, thank you to the readers who will find this book and consume every page. Stories are important. Yours is important. Thank you for being part of a little piece of mine.

  STAY CONNECTED

  If you want to stay updated on all the new book things, you can see my updated shenanigans here:

  TikTok & Instagram: @madisonnicolebooks

  Website: www.madisonnicolebooks.com

  REVIEWS

  If you want to share your thoughts and feelings about “Deathwalker,” please share your review on Amazon and Goodreads. Additionally, feel free to send an email to info@madisonnicolebooks.com.

  I welcome all feedback and would love to hear from you!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Madison Nicole is a twenty-six-year-old new author who currently lives in Kansas City, Missouri, where she teaches yoga and group fitness full-time. You can catch Madi playing video games, reading fantasy romance novels, and practicing aerial arts when she’s not writing or working her day job. Her favorite indulgences include iced coffee, tequila, and dark chocolate. She is excited to continue to explore her writing career and bring more fun stories your way!

  Check out Madison Nicole’s other book, The Immortality Trials, here, or get a sneak peak of the first chapter on the next page!

  MORE BY MADISON NICOLE

  THE IMMORTALITY TRIALS

  Madison Nicole

  THE IMMORTALITY TRIALS

  Chapter 1: Greer

  “Another round of tequila shots, sweetheart,” the man slurred.

  He wasn’t the first man who’d thrown out pet names while I worked my tables, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  His half-lidded eyes raked over my body from where he was sprawled out in the corner like he owned the place. The man looked human, but that didn't mean anything. Looks could be deceiving and, human or not, this large man with pale skin, a receding hairline, and an asymmetrical handlebar mustache ate me up with his eyes. It made me want to claw them out with my long black fingernails until my hands were bloody.

  He was already drunk, along with the rest of his companions. All of them were impeccably dressed in dark, expensive suits and they were throwing money around, clearly celebrating something.

  “Top shelf only,” another one of them bellowed.

  “Absolutely, coming right up,” I said with a flash of teeth through my dark red lipstick and a swish of my long wine-colored ponytail.

  More alcohol means more money.

  More alcohol.

  More money.

  I silently chanted in my head.

  Ugh.

  I ran over to the sleek black countertop where my bartender, Arlo, was already lining up the limes and clear liquid. He’s a dragalúme, which means his senses are heightened and he moves with precision and grace. Not to mention, his skin is covered in iridescent scales that reflected the candles and smoky lights of the lounge.

  His snow-white hair was pulled back in a low bun, so his high cheekbones and dusty white eyelashes were on full display. He wore black head to toe, with a dress shirt buttoned all the way to his throat and a pair of slacks that hit right at the ankle. The whole staff was required to wear all black at The Shadow Lounge—part of the allure, I suppose.

  It was once said the dragalúmes could reflect light in a way that made them nearly invisible. Light benders, according to the old texts. Apparently, they were skilled in espionage as well. At one point, they were coveted operatives by the old kingdoms and their skills were deeply sought after, but that was long ago.

  When I asked Arlo if he could bend light after our shift one day—with a few shots making my head fuzzy and my speech bold—he snickered and said it was only rumor. He claimed that the only thing his kind does with their “abilities” now is eavesdrop on other people's business and work more efficiently than others, while looking beautiful. I knew we would be good friends after that.

  Arlo gave me an apologetic smile through pale lips as he glanced over at the table of rowdy men. There were eight males in total filling up the deep green velvet couches in the corner. It was a slow night since it was a Thursday, and they were, by far, the loudest and rudest ones here.

  A few pairs of people were milling around, but everyone else was engaging in quiet conversations on their dark velvet chairs or snuggled into alcoves, sipping leisurely on their drinks. These men had come to get plastered and, honestly, who the hell gets this hammered on a Thursday?

  Usually on Thursdays I get let go early, but not tonight. Tonight, I would be here until the very last one of them left. By the looks of it, it didn’t seem like they would be going anywhere any time soon.

  I quickly collected the shots through a few pouty sighs.

  “Greer…play nice,” Arlo teased as he deftly filled other glasses with amber-colored liquid. His bone-white fingers were covered in gems that created a kaleidoscope of colors on the bartop as he worked.

  Arlo knew I could take care of myself, but I’d come in with an attitude at the start of my shift and I was having a hard time snuffing it out. Attitudes don’t equal tips…and I wanted the tips, especially from these annoying males.

  “I’m always nice,” I replied with a wicked grin and a wink.

  I was fine to deal with annoying and disgusting males. Most of the time. But tonight, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to sleep. I wanted them to leave and I really wanted to never hear the term “sweetheart” ever again.

  I easily navigated through the dimly lit lounge and black glass tables. The lounge was supposed to feel dark, moody, and sensual with the mix of candles, sparkling black crystal chandeliers, and expensive cocktails. This evening, I was fitting right in with the dark and moody part. My black velvet thigh-high boots clacked along the black marble floor as I made my way over to the table of boisterous males.

  “Eight tequila shots, top shelf…,” I said through a smile, trying not to look like I was grimacing. One of the men, who looked to be about mid-twenties, wrapped his slightly green fingers around my wrist as I set down the liquor.

  Ew.

  “You should take a shot with us.” He smirked, showing off his rows of pointed teeth. His hair was as black as his eyes and his dark navy suit almost looked like it had been painted on by how tightly it wrapped around his body.

  I always show up to my shifts in a black long-sleeve for this precise reason. Males like to get handsy.

  Tonight, I had chosen a leather bodysuit that circled my throat, with mesh paneling running along my ribs towards my hips, plus fishnets and black satin shorts. My usual array of constellation piercings studded my ears, and glittering rings accompanied my pale hands—a girl needs a little sparkle to add to the drama. The sleeves of my bodysuit connected to my middle finger for the exact reason that I could not tolerate drunken males touching my bare skin with their greedy fingertips and hungry eyes.

  Truly disgusting.

  It was something that the other servers had warned me about early on and I experienced relatively regularly, especially since I’m human. I might as well wear a glaring red sign on my forehead that says, “Please try to take advantage of me because I am weak and vulnerable.” Except I’m not. I can damn well hold my own, even if society likes to pretend otherwise.

  Why any male is inclined to touch anyone without their consent was beyond me. It took everything in me to not spit in his face, with the darkness surrounding my mood tonight. I was practically looking for a fight at this point, but I tried to rein it in. Rage pulsed through my veins while I grabbed the man’s fingers and pried them away from my arm.

  “Unfortunately I can’t drink on the job, boys,” I said with a wink and a swish of my hips, as I easily maneuvered out of his reach. The other men snickered, and the male hungrily followed me with his dark eyes.

  “Maybe another time then, human,” he said, his tongue flickering over his lips.

  Go fuck yourself.

  “If you’re lucky,” I called over my shoulder while flipping my hair. More snickering and laughter followed.

  The males stayed for three more hours, finally stumbling out around one o’clock in the morning, being the last ones to go home. There was a constant stream of shots, cocktails, and bottles of champagne throughout the evening. But at least they tipped generously.

  I don’t know what you all were celebrating, but I’m glad to take your money.

  Arlo and I were the last ones here as I counted the bills and rounded up the last pieces of glassware.

  “Arlo, go home. I’ll finish cleaning and lock up,” I said.

  Arlo raised one of his snow-white eyebrows and pursed his lips. “You sure?” he asked, tipping his head slightly, the small chain on his earring brushing his sharp cheekbone.

  “Yeah, go home to your husband. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said with a genuine smile for a genuine friend.

  I don’t know how old Arlo is. Could be thirty or three hundred. All specialized species live far past the average age of a human and have the aging process to match.

  “And this is why you’re my favorite, dear,” Arlo said, quickly finishing up the glassware and kissing me on the cheek, light as a feather. “Be careful going home. Can you please text me when you make it?” he said, stopping at the heavy black metal door.

  “Of course,” I said, turning my back to him and wiping down the tables. I heard the metal door groan as Arlo cheerily said goodnight, then it slammed shut.

  I sat down on one of the plush velvet loungers and unzipped my boots and wiggled my toes. I closed my eyes and fell back on the soft cushions for a moment to relax. My feet ached and my eyes felt heavy.

  Maybe I would ask Leah to cover my shift tomorrow. I had made plenty tonight, and I was exhausted. I could curl up with a bottle of wine and see if Lux wanted to watch a terrible Netflix rom-com.

  Maybe a night off would help my sour mood.

  It wasn’t anything in particular that was weighing heavily on me…just the fact that I was twenty-four and felt like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing with my life. But, you know, it was a casual identity crisis. Not a full-blown anxiety attack…yet.

  I sighed and wondered if other people felt like this, like life was simply passing them by and they were a bystander, not an active participant. I shook off the dramatics and told myself that I didn’t need to have it all figured out. It was fine. I was fine.

  “Are you seriously sleeping?” a deep voice sounded from the direction of the doorway.

  “I’m taking a second to breathe because I had to deal with eight testosterone-charged hooligans for over four hours this evening…and I’m exhausted from my internal pity party,” I said, not bothering to open my eyes. I knew that voice like I knew my own. It was my best friend Luxton, but to me he’s Lux.

  He is fairly familiar with my pity parties. They had been happening quite frequently lately. Lux always listened and offered support; it’s one of the many things that I absolutely adore about him. He doesn’t shove answers down my throat, just a steady presence of love and empathy.

  I felt a shift in the lounger as he sat right next to my head. The heavy weight of him caused my head to dip. I squinted up at him.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me,” I said.

  I knew I should’ve texted him earlier, but those males had kept me busy most of the night. Usually, we walk home together when I work late. It’s not that I can’t handle myself; it’s just that you don’t know what sort of things might be lurking in the shadows, and Lux worries after my pretty human head.

  The Shadow Lounge is on the upper west side of Odessa, the Republic’s capital city, which is normally pretty safe, considering this is where a lot of the money is in the city. The higher up you are in the city, the more money swirls and dances around the streets. The upper west side is home to many bars, clubs, restaurants, trendy Instagram spots, and all kinds of expensive entertainment.

  We lived right on the outskirts of the upper west side so, ideally, it should be fine. Except sometimes, I took shortcuts through alleys, snaking through the city to get home faster, which really doesn’t guarantee safety the way the well-lit streets of the city do. And one time I had a run-in with some male that pulled a knife out on me. I keep a switchblade on me at all times because, where I grew up, you weren’t to be caught empty-handed.

  He landed a deep gash on my forearm and Lux had freaked out. In all fairness, as soon as that motherfucker saw me charge him with my own weapon, he scampered away—but not before I nailed him with a slash on his chest. But I am a human woman, a relatively easy target by society’s standards, so it’s not like Lux’s worries are unfounded.

  It just is what it is.

  Either way, I can take care of myself, but it is nice for him to worry, to care.