River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)

“A suit?” she exclaims, pressing her fingers into the table. “Since when do you go after men in suits?”

“Since never,” I say. It’s true. I have a very specific type. Black leather jackets, boots, white t-shirts, tattoos, maybe a bit of eyeliner. Matt fits the description to a T. This man did not.

But maybe my type’s been wrong this whole time.

“I think you dodged a bullet there, Lenore,” she says. “Men in suits don’t usually go for girls with tattoos. Believe me, I know.”

She’s probably right. It’s not like I’m covered head-to-toe, but I have a lot for someone my age. My parents have tattoos and they’ve always been strangely encouraging toward me getting them. And as long as I ruminate on what I want and what they mean to me, making sure it’s something special, they’ve even given me the money to do it. I know it’s pretty rare to have that kind of support, so I’ve definitely run with it. Tattoos and jewelry, those are my trademarks.

Matt comes back with our drinks, pulling me out of my head for a moment. We make a toast to the semester almost being done. Matt went to Stanford for one year, met his start-up buddies, and dropped out (which seems to be the popular thing to do around here), but he still sympathizes. Then Elle tells him all about my supposed stalker and the hot guy in the suit, and I swear I see his jaw tighten a little, like the fact that I showed an interest in another guy bothers him.

But I don’t dwell on that too much. The more I think about our relationship, the weirder it gets. Better to just take it at face value.

We end up staying at The Cloister for a couple of hours, until I’m pretty buzzed. But I know I need to do some studying tomorrow, so I don’t want to be totally hungover.

“I’m going to go,” I say, grabbing my purse and sliding out of the bench.

Matt reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Wait,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

I give him a quick smile, taking my wrist back. “I’m fine. I’m going to get an Uber. Don’t worry.”

I wave goodbye to Elle and head toward the door, but Matt is hot on my trail.

“Don’t fuck him, Lenore!” Elle yells after us. “You can do better.”

Matt gives her an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Hey, thanks.”

I can’t help but laugh, waving her away. Way to make things awkward, Elle.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him as we step out into the night. The fog seems to have thickened, the air damp, but all the spookiness is gone thanks to the crowds of people in the back garden and heading down the path.

I stop at the side of the road and take out my phone, opening the app. Matt stands beside me, hovering.

I steal a glance at him. “I’m fine. Really. No need to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you,” he says. “I’m looking out for you. If you really do have a stalker…”

“I don’t. The more I think about it, the more I think I’m being paranoid. As you always used to say.” I nod at the church. “Go back inside. Don’t leave Elle by herself.”

“You know she’s fine,” he says. “But you’re not.”

Then, before I can move, he reaches out, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me.

Ah, fuck. Elle was on to something, wasn’t she? She picks up on shit that I don’t. I figured Matt was drunk, but I didn’t think he was this kind of drunk.

I press my fingers into his chest and push him back. “Stop,” I say quietly, licking my lips. My red lipstick is on his face.

“Sorry I…” He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “I just think we could start over.”

I manage a sympathetic smile, not liking where this is going. “You have a girlfriend, Matt.”

“I don’t have to have a girlfriend.”

My expression turns withering. “If you’re hoping that sounds romantic, it doesn’t. Come on, man. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And I don’t know what you want,” he says sharply. “Do you even know?”

I blink at him, taken aback. Matt is always so mild-mannered and chill, this is the first time I’ve seen him get cross with me.

“What are you getting at?”

He takes a step toward me, dark eyes glinting in the streetlight.

“I’m getting at you,” he says. “I don’t know you at all. You never let anyone in. You don’t even know yourself.”

I feel my cheeks burn, hating how his words are making me feel. “Go back inside, Matt,” I manage to say. “Before you say something even more stupid.”

He stares at me for a moment before he lets out a huff of air and turns around, heading past the bouncer until he disappears into the dark.

Shit, what the hell has gotten into him?

With trembling fingers, I manage to get an Uber, only a minute away. It pulls up, and I slide into the back, trying to get some sense into my head. It was such a strange night anyway, but to have Matt get all weird at the end really pushed it over the edge.

But I’m not so concerned with what he wants from me. He was drunk.

I’m toiling over what he said.

That no one can get close to me.

That I don’t even know myself.

Because he’s right.

And I hate that he sees that in me, and that he used it against me.

I sigh and lean back against the seat. It sucks, but I think it’s probably for the best if I don’t see Matt for a while. Let him get his head on straight.

The ride to my apartment is only ten minutes and I get the Uber to drop me off on Laguna Street. Though the shops and bars of Hayes Street are just blocks away, the neighborhood is dark and quiet as usual. But I’m so lost in my head, I can’t be bothered to be spooked.

I cross the road and go to my door, my parents’ door right next to it. My parents actually live above me. They own the whole row house, and had it split into two residences when I graduated high school. I had the choice to live on campus, and they’d rent this out, or stay here. As much as I wanted to experience the college lifestyle, this apartment is so much cooler than a dorm, and my parents totally leave me alone. For the most part.

I fumble for my keys in my purse, glancing up at their place above. It’s nearly midnight and the lights are all off, my parents fast asleep. They tend to get up at four in the morning, for reasons I’ve never understood. As for me, I never sleep much. My brain won’t turn off.

I take my keys out when I feel a presence behind me.

I gasp, my eyes going wide, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end.

I wrap my fingers around the keys, making a fist, prepared to whirl around and stab the attacker in the eye.

“Lenore Warwick?” a man’s smooth voice says from behind me.

I pause, then turn around.

There’s a man standing on the curb. Tall, long dark coat, the shadows too deep to make out his face.

For a moment I think it’s the man from the bar, but I already know it’s not.

My stalker, however, that’s another story.

“Who’s asking?” I say, my voice shaking a little, my fist tight around the keys.

“Forgive me,” he says, stepping forward until he’s in the dim light of my front window, his face emerging from the shadows. “But I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”





Acknowledgments





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I’m not going to lie. Out of the seventy books I’ve written, this was one of the—if not the—hardest books I’ve ever had to write. Which is funny, because this story has been on my brain since 2013. 2013! That’s a long time to be thinking about a book, even for me.