Deathwalker, p.23
Deathwalker,
p.23
Of course he cared—Lux and I were roommates and best friends. The luxurious penthouse apartment we shared was courtesy of his dead parents who, if you asked him, he had mixed emotions about them being gone. It may seem weird, but they weren’t close. In fact, they had very different ideologies, the main one being that Lux’s focus should’ve been on continuing their magical lineage with another shifter.
They had many heated arguments about Lux’s pansexuality and his choice to not have children, and when they died in a helicopter accident a few years ago, their entire multibillion-dollar tech company went to their son. They’d wanted to keep their magic bloodline perfect for their shifter magic, and having a son who didn’t care about any of that at all was really just not in their plan for their shifter legacy.
Lux immediately hired someone to take over, and moved to be a silent partner, but he still would never need to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to. He mostly worked high-end consulting jobs nowadays and worked to give money back to those who had also suffered from toxic relationships and had their sexuality used against them.
Even though his parents treated him poorly, their deaths were still hard to deal with. He bought a whole building where rent was basically non-existent for those who needed a safe place to stay, then sheepishly asked me to move in with him so he wouldn’t be alone in the large penthouse that occupied the top floor. Not only was this a truly spectacular deal for me, but I would do anything for him. We had met in college and immediately bonded over margaritas and tacos.
I had a flash of memory of the first time we went out together. He wore a shirt with LGBTQIA+ written across it and I wore a shirt with a pride flag. We both laughed and immediately bonded, since it was literally painted on our chests what we stood for. I smiled at the memory and how we had fallen into one of those soul-deep friendships that seem to only come around once in a lifetime. We have many memories around frozen margs and tequila shots.
He never seemed to bat an eye at the fact that I don’t have a lick of magic or that I would only live to be maybe a hundred. He once told me that society and its cultural standards could go fuck themselves and I think that was really when I knew that, no matter what, we would be tied together forever.
When I first moved in, Lux told me I wouldn’t need to get a job if I didn’t want to, and I had scoffed at that. I loved living with Lux, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him fund the rest of my life.
After graduating from college with a degree in engineering, I realized I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with that. I had chosen engineering because I grew up poor. My mom told me it would be a way to save us, if I could get a nice job, and at the time I believed her. Except there was no way for my job to save her anymore.
I winced, thinking about the places I had lived in growing up. We went from crappy motels to dirty apartments, “friends’” couches, our car, and finally to a steadier place in the RV park. My mom was so excited when we finally had a place of our own in that park. It was where I learned how to wield my switchblade, hot-wire a car, and live off practically nothing. Sometimes it felt like a faraway dream, considering where I was now.
Some days, my life now feels like a dream. My mind is a strange place sometimes.
I remember thinking that everything would be magically fixed once I graduated with a degree, as if becoming an engineer would be the saving grace of my mother’s life and eliminate my own guilt and shame about the things we did to survive, things that hung around my head like a cartoon rain cloud.
So now I was stuck with a degree I didn’t particularly like or care for, that reminded me of my dead mother.
I had worked odd jobs trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with my life until The Shadow Lounge became a full-time gig. Anything else I looked at offered shit pay, even if the hours were better. And I liked the people. Arlo is the owner and the bartender, and he made me feel less alone. He made me feel seen and heard in a way so many didn’t because I am human.
But I was only twenty-four years old, for gods’ sake…I had plenty of time to figure my life out, right? My impending identity crisis came in waves, and right now was just a particularly low point.
In the meantime, I got to live with my best friend in a nice-ass penthouse that I would probably never ever be able to afford in a million years. So what if my housing and lifestyle peaked in my twenties? It would be fine. I was fine.
“Yes, I did. We don’t need you getting into knife fights regularly. I would hate to bail your ass out of jail…again,” he said gently, chuckling and pulling me back to the conversation, as I had drifted deeper into my sour thoughts that had perturbed me this evening. But Lux was good at that. He made me feel safe, and he did bail me out the one time I had started a bar fight in college.
I cracked a smile, remembering how some drunk idiot had tried to start a fight with Lux by taking a swing at him. Except Lux hadn’t been looking, and the dumbass’s face met my fist first before he could land his punch on Lux. No one messes with my best friend.
He started to untangle the ends of my ponytail with his callused dark brown hands, and I gazed lovingly up at him. Lux was breathtakingly handsome. His thick black hair was in braids today, reaching down his back and tied loosely with a piece of black fabric. His golden eyes are bright and framed with thick dark lashes. His bone structure makes everyone swoon, as his sculpted cheekbones match his perfectly sculpted cupid’s bow and studded nose.
He is broad and muscular, with tattoos swirling around most of his six-two, dark brown body. He wears the tattoos like an accessory, changing them some days or keeping some for years. The advantage to being a shapeshifter is that he can manipulate any part of his body on a whim. But he keeps this image pretty consistently as his own.
However, shifters long ago were punished for shifting into others’ identities. It was the Republic's way of keeping them in check. Everyone was required to have a way to be easily ID’d that matched who they were in the Republic’s system. So, this was the version of Lux I had always known. Bright eyes, dark skin, handsome as sin….
Everyone always tried to put us together but, in reality, there was absolutely zero romantic interest from either party. It was easy for them to assume I was his arm candy, since not very many of the wealthy and powerful toted humans around as more than playthings. But our love was one of family, not romance or lust.
“Can you snap your fingers and have this place cleaned up and us on the couch at home?” I whined, shutting my eyes and turning to bury my face into his thigh.
He laughed darkly and replied, “I’m not a witch or a teleporter, but maybe we should find some and befriend them to help you next time.”
Groaning, I sat up and rolled through my neck. I could do this. Taking a deep breath, I looked at Lux and said, “Okay, fifteen minutes. Feel free to time me.” I winked before I vaulted up and started racing around the room without my boots, quickly trying to clean up the mess that all our patrons had made this evening.
“Done,” I shouted, panting slightly. Sweat dripped down my brow and I rapidly wiped it away with the back of my sleeve. Lux gave me an amused smile and uncrossed his jean-clad legs. He smoothed out his white shirt, adjusted the lapels on his camel-colored coat, and stood up.
“Fourteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Not the best, but Arlo will love you all the same.” He snickered. “Let’s go.”
I swiftly zipped up my boots and grabbed my purse, then shrugged on my red faux-fur coat and shut off the lights. I walked through the heavy metal door and locked it tight.
“Let’s go home,” I said. I looped my arm through his and laid my head on his shoulder as we walked through the quiet city streets, bathed in moonlight.
Madison Nicole, Deathwalker
