Death and Relaxation by Devon Monk Page B

But it was more than just his death that had disrupted my life. It was also this job, this family responsibility that I still wondered if I was handling as well as I should.
    “You want to talk about that?” Ryder asked gently. “You went pretty quiet.”
    I didn’t want to talk about what was really bothering me—the crazy secrets of gods and monsters in this town. My job to look after them all, and to be there when god power needed to change hands.
    But maybe I could talk about Dad.
    “I think about him every day. Think about what he’d do when I’m responding to a call. Keep expecting him to stop by and see me and my sisters. But I’m getting…well, better isn’t really the right word, but maybe I’m getting used to the way things are now?”
    “Grief is a terrible houseguest,” he said. “It shows up when we least expect it and leaves long after it’s overstayed its welcome.” His eyes darkened, and he stared into his empty beer glass.
    “Something wrong?”
    “No.” He was lying. Then he looked back up, some of the darkness gone from his eyes. “This is nice. Why don’t we do this more often?”
    “Because we are hardworking people who forget to put ourselves first every once in a while.”
    “About that.” He leaned forward, took my hand, and rubbed his thumb gently, maddeningly, across the back of it, soft, slow strokes. My breath bunny-hopped and I worked to pull it back under control. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time we put ourselves first.”
    “You mean burgers and fries every once in a while?”
    “I mean go out. Date. I’m asking you if you’d like to date me, Laney. Just to see…just to see where things could be between us.”
    Everything in me wanted to say yes. I’d been waiting to hear those words out of Ryder’s mouth since I was in elementary school and thought dating meant sharing the green M&M’s.
    But I paused. Ryder’s hazel eyes were filled with patience, softened by compassion and maybe something more.
    He licked his lower lip, biting it just a bit as he watched me.
    That look was filled with a lot more than compassion. It was filled with a heat and fire I wanted to lose myself to, wanted to be devoured by.
    “I thought you didn’t like workplace romances.”
    “I never said that.”
    My heart whispered with need. I’d never know if Ryder was the man I dreamed he was, if being with him how I’d always wanted to would live up to my imagination if I didn’t try it. Dating was a good start. All I had to say was yes.
    I opened my mouth to say yes.
    “Delaney.” Myra strode across the room. “We need to talk. Now.”
    She was scowling. Pale. Jean was already jogging toward the door, her phone at her ear.
    Something was wrong.
    “What’s wrong?” Ryder asked.
    “Police business,” she said. “Not for you.”
    I stood, reached for the back of my chair, and only then remembered I hadn’t brought my jacket. “Sorry. I need to go. Report to the station tomorrow morning.”
    He stood too. “I can come along.”
    “No,” Myra and I both said. “We’ll get you sworn in tomorrow, officially,” I added. “Then you can come along. Tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
    I had to jog a little to catch up to Myra, who was already hauling it across the room and out the door.
    “Talk to me,” I said.
    “I’ll tell you in the car.” She wrapped her arm around my waist, which seemed like a strange thing for her to do as we stepped outside.
    “What?”
    Ryder jogged out the door. “You forgot your purse. Delaney?”
    Myra swore quietly.
    And that was when it hit me.
    God power.
    I’d never felt it before, not like this, not so strong. But I knew exactly what it was. God power, uncontrolled, wild. It slammed into me, trying to reshape me. Trying to change me.
    A wave of sensations swallowed me whole, pulled me down with electric fingers and explosions of color. I felt my knees give out, heard my moan as I fell. Ryder’s voice, Myra’s voice, were faint