by Charley Case
“Okay, maybe ‘in line’ is a bit much, but I bet we can make him see reason. He’s a smart guy.”
Penny waggled a hand at chest level and shrugged.
“Now you’re just being mean.” Mila laughed, standing and unfolding the trash bag. “Okay, I need to get those clothes into the garbage as soon as possible. I just hope he didn't throw them on the floor.” She looked down at the pack. “You want help ‘stealing’ that into your room?”
Penny shook her head and pointed at her own chest. “Shir chi.”
Mila shook her head in wonder. “Someday, you and I are going to sit down, and you’re going to explain faerie dragon culture to me. It’s fascinating.”
Penny nodded, then shooed her to her room. “Chi.”
“You’re welcome,” Mila said before closing the door.
To her great relief, there was not a pile of shit-stained clothes on the floor of their bedroom. She was also surprised to see that there were no footprints on the hardwood. In fact, she couldn't smell it.
The shower was running, and she could hear Finn singing an awful off-key melody. She had to give him credit for singing at the top of his lungs, though. She stepped into the white-tiled bathroom and leaned on the doorframe, crossing her arms, and just took it all in for a minute.
The one thing Finn had insisted on when they expanded the condo was that the bathrooms be amazing, and their contractor Kevin hadn't disappointed.
The room was twice as big as a lot of the bedrooms Mila had had growing up. A huge slab of black granite made up the long double-sink counter on the left, with a mirror that covered the entire wall from the counter to the ceiling. To the right was a smaller room with a door that held the toilet bidet combo along with its own sink. Next to that was their walk-in closet with room for hanging clothes and built-in drawers and shelves for a hundred pairs of shoes that wasn't even an eighth of the way full. A nice big white leather ottoman had been set in the center of the closet to sit on while dressing.
In the very center of the bathroom was a tub made of formed black granite that matched the counters but had been made from a single piece of rock. Finn had used his dwarven earth magic to form the perfectly-shaped tub that somehow was as hard as stone but unbelievably comfortable to sit in.
But Mila was looking at the back wall of the room where clear glass-enclosed a black stone floor-to-ceiling shower with about twenty shower heads, all controlled from a digital touchscreen built into the wall.
She didn't want to know how much Finn had spent on the room, but Kevin had said in passing that he had built entire houses for less.
Their bathroom was by far the nicest room in the whole building. Hell, it was probably the nicest room in a three-block radius.
Caterwauling while scrubbing himself clean with a loofah on a stick, Finn stood in the shower with his back to the door. She looked him over, amazed that history had gotten dwarves so wrong.
Finn sang with gusto, if not talent. “It’s sooo typical of me to talk about myself, I’m sooooorrrryyy.”
Six-five and nearly three feet wide at the shoulders, Finn was a huge and imposing figure. His artificial arm somehow added to his attractiveness, as if the woven yellow diamond were a natural extension of his body, both odd and beautiful at the same time.
She watched the muscles of his back flexing as he scrubbed his prosthetic, plunging the loofah between the open diamond weave, making sure nothing hid in the nooks and crannies.
“I hope that you’re wellll. Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever haaaaaappened?”
The dirty clothes were nowhere to be seen, and she feared he had thrown them in the hamper, but when she stepped into the bathroom proper, she saw them piled in the tub. She smiled when she realized that he had not only washed them, but he must have used a rag to clean the floor after taking his boots off.
She opened the trash bag and stuffed the wrung-out but still quite damp remains of clothes into it, including the rag. She almost threw the boots in for good measure, but finding boots in his size was a problem. He had cleaned them thoroughly, so she left them in the tub to dry and tied off the bag, sealing the offending clothes in, and dropped it by the door before heading into her closet to get undressed.
“It’s no secret that the both of us are running out of time.”
She was still trying to figure out what the hell he was singing. It was so bad it was almost art all on its own, like when someone tapes a banana to a wall and calls it expressionism. The melody was vaguely familiar, at least what she could pick out, but his timing was as bad as his tone, making the whole thing a staccato jumble of words.
She opened the hamper and dropped her sweater and socks in, then stripped her leggings off and tossed them in after. Removing her bra, she hung it on a hook beside the built-in dresser and mirror combo. Then tossed her underwear in the dirty clothes and closed the lid.
She leaned into the mirror, looking herself in the eye before her gaze wandered across her face, looking for anything out of place with her skin. As usual these days, she didn't find anything, leaving her with a strange disappointment.
Ever since her magic had come to life in earnest, she’d noticed that her skin was clearer than it had ever been, along with her hair and nails becoming oddly strong and shiny. She knew it was due to having more magic in her system all the time, but her scientific mind wanted to know why the magic made her skin clearer.
As she walked out of the closet and toward the shower, she watched in confused horror as Finn held the loofah like a microphone, singing into the fluffy ball on the end of the stick. He had his eyes closed and really belted out the chorus.
“So hello from the other siiiiiiide!”
Mila's eyes went wide as she finally realized what he was singing.
“I must have called a thousand tiiiiiiimes!”
His butt clenched when he hit the high note and she choked out a laugh, her hand going to her mouth to hide the smile she was afraid might split her face in two.
Finn’s eyes popped open and he spun around, the loofah on a stick still held in front of his face.
“Oh, my God. Were you just singing Adele?”
He stood up straight, putting his hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know she’s a national treasure.”
Mila walked around to the side of the glass and stepped into the huge shower with him. She walked up and put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back until she was in the streams as well.
Her face hurt, she was smiling so much. “You know she’s from England, right? Don't you need to be from a country to be a national treasure of that country?”
He gave her a disapproving look, the water running through his hair and down his nose. “Not if you’re as badass as Adele.”
Mila laughed, then put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. She let the water flow over them, the liquid warming her as much as he was.
“Hi,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I missed you today.”
He smiled, his wet beard parting enough that she could see his white teeth. “I missed you too.”
She felt his hand rest on the small of her back, holding her close as he gazed into her eyes. He began to sway ever so slowly as if he were leading her in a dance to music only he could hear. They stayed like that for three long breaths, just enjoying each other’s closeness.
“Are we dancing to Adele?” she asked when his movements became more pronounced.
He stopped the swaying, the barest hint of amused guilt in his eyes. “National treasure, darlin’.”
She chuckled, pressing her cheek to his chest, letting the warm water run through her hair.
Then the loofah was slowly inserted into her armpit, and he twisted it back and forth to soap her up.
She barked a laugh. “Thanks. Am I that stinky?”
“There is the distinct smell of wet dog on you,” he said, starting to scrub her in earnest. “What the hell did you get up to today? Were you at
a dog park?”
She let go of his neck and stepped back to run her hands through her hair, wetting it down and removing any large debris she found while Finn continued to scrub her.
He handed her the bottle of shampoo, then pumped more soap onto the loofah.
She squirted some of the vanilla-scented shampoo into her hand and gave the bottle back to Finn. Turning her back to him, she stepped out of the shower stream and began to massage it in.
Finn used the opportunity to really get after some grime just above her lower back tattoo.
“Truthfully, we had a pretty intense day,” Mila said, pulling her long hair over her shoulder and washing the ends while Finn worked.
He started chuckling, making Mila frown and look over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her tattoo and shaking with laughter. He saw her looking and clamped his lips shut.
“What?” she asked, suspecting she knew what he was laughing at. It was her personal mark of shame, an impulse decision during undergrad. She hated that she still had it, but she never seemed to have the time to remove it. Then again, most of the time, she forgot it was there.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” He cleared his throat and continued in a much steadier voice, “I just don't understand why you still have this tattoo. A cartoon little boy and a tiger? I mean, it’s just so ridiculous, and not you at all.”
She sighed. “It was a popular comic when I was in college. We all went to get tattoos, but I didn't have any idea what I wanted, so I said the first thing that came to mind.” Her shoulders sagged. “There might have been alcohol involved.”
“Then why not remove it, or change it to something you want?” He pulled her back into the stream of warm water, and hanging the loofah on a hook, began to rinse her hair for her.
“Because I don't ever have the time to go to all those laser treatments. It’s a pain in the ass to remove a tattoo.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not. I can do it right now if you want. Or I can rearrange the ink into something else.”
“How can you remove a tattoo?” She dropped her chin to her chest in defeat before nodding. “Magic.”
Finn nodded along. “Yeah. Magic.”
Mila lifted her head and sucked in a deep breath. “You know what, it’s dealer’s choice on this one. You’re the only one who sees it regularly, so you decide what to do with it. I’m going to be over here conditioning my hair. Don't mind me.”
He handed her the conditioner. “Are you sure? It’s your body. I don't want to do something you don't like.”
Mila shrugged. “Babe, I trust you more than anyone on the planet. You can do whatever you want to my body,” she said, coyly looking over her shoulder as she handed the conditioner back.
He took the bottle and smiled. “I have an idea.”
“Is it about the tattoo?” she asked, massaging the conditioner into her scalp.
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” she joked.
“Oh, don't worry. I have those ideas too. They’re for later.”
Mila gasped in an over-the-top manner. “Such a tease.”
“Will you hold still? This takes precision,” he said, grabbing her hip with one hand.
She smiled, reached down, and put her hand over his, sliding her slender fingers between his. He gave her fingers a light squeeze with his thick digits.
“Babe, just one thing before you begin.”
“What?”
She swallowed, looking him in the eye over her shoulder. “Don’t give me an Adele-themed tramp stamp.”
He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“What does it mean?” Mila asked, her back facing the mirror as she looked over her shoulder at her new tattoo.
It was a black circle with a vertical line through the middle, then what looked like two Vs, their points overlaying the center line equidistant apart, with the points of the Vs facing down.
Finn was watching her as he reclined on the bed they had just spent the last hour “napping” in. “It’s the dwarven rune for ‘shield maiden.’”
“Come on, babe. Get dressed. We need to meet Danica and Phil in an hour. If you want to take a ride on the bike first, we need to get moving.”
“We could always take a ride, then come back here,” Finn said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
She just rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror.
He finally relented and stood, then headed for the closet.
As he passed Mila, she smacked his ass. “Hey. Good work there. I’m leaving you a five-star review.” She gave him a thumbs-up.
He chuckled. “I love how weird you are. Have I ever told you that?”
“Once or twice.”
“Did I do that to you?” he asked, suddenly concerned and leaning down to inspect her thigh.
She looked down and saw a dark spot on her thigh. It looked like a bruise and was a little tender to the touch. She tried to remember when she had hit her leg on something, but nothing came to mind. “No, it wasn't you. I probably just walked into something today. It happens.”
He leaned in and gave the bruise a kiss, then headed to the closet.
Mila looked at the bruise again, and it came to her. That was the spot Seline’s spell had hit her in their last fight. It must have only been a distraction, but she guessed it could have easily left a bruise.
“Where would you even leave the review for that?” he asked after going into the closet and a few seconds later coming back out with jeans while pulling a black t-shirt over his head.
“Oh, there are places, buddy. Trust me,” Mila said, taking one last look at the tattoo and deciding she loved it. It was a hell of a lot better than what she’d had before. “Shield maidens, like the ones from Norse mythology?”
“Probably?” Finn shouted from out of sight. “In dwarven culture, there’s a story of women who were so fierce in battle that they became the personal guard of the first dwarven king. They were the best of the best, quick and deadly, but more than anything, they were smart. They didn't win their battles because they were stronger, but because they out-thought the enemy. To be called a shield maiden by a dwarf is high praise, and not done lightly.”
She walked into the closet, opened her underwear drawer, selected a pair of black cheekies and stepping into them, and asked, “If it’s such a special title, should I have it tattooed on me? I don't want to be disrespectful.”
Finn sat on the ottoman and pulled on a sock before resting his elbow on his knee and glancing at her as she worked the underwear into the right position. “Yeah. It’s absolutely appropriate for you to have it tattooed on you. That’s what they do to mark themselves as different from others.”
Mila chuckled. “I get that.” She pulled a camisole off its hanger and slipped it over her head. “What I mean is, I’m not a shield maiden, so maybe I shouldn't have it tattooed on me.”
Finn pulled his other sock on. “Who do you think selects the warriors to become shield maidens?”
“The king?” Mila guessed, selecting a pair of gray leggings and stepping into them. Then, remembering they were going to be riding on the motorcycle, she opted for something a little more substantial.
“Yup. The king. That’s me, and I select you. You are my shield maiden,” he said, bowing with a flourish.
“You’re not a king, though. You’re a prince, but isn’t your father still the king?” She folded the leggings and put them back in the drawer, then pulled out a pair of low-rise jeans. Stepping into them, she had to jump and pull to get the stiff material over her ass.
“He’s the king of all that stuff out there. I’m the only dwarf on Earth, so on this one planet, I’m the dwarf king,” he said, tying his boot.
Mila put on a gray V-neck t-shirt and grabbed a red hoodie from its hanger. “Well then, I think it’s official.” She curtsied to him. “My lord. Shall we take your steed out and put it through its paces?”
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“God, you are really bad at curtsying,” he said in mock horror.
“Some girls are graceful, and some girls are me,” Mila said with a smile. She pulled on a pair of calf-high black leather boots without a heel. “Ready.”
“Me too.”
They headed out into the living room and found Penny watching a reality TV show. Mila noticed the treasure bag was empty and was impressed that she had been able to move it all in an hour and a half.
“Hey, Penny. We’re going for a ride on the bike—”
“Death Machine,” Finn interrupted.
Mila rolled her eyes. “A ride on Death Machine before we head to the bar. You want to come with?”
Penny looked at the TV, and seeing two women in tights in the middle of an obviously staged cat-fight, nodded. “Chi.”
“Where’s Danica?” Mila asked, seeing that her door was open and the room was empty.
“Shir shee.” She held up a note in Danica's handwriting.
Mila took it and read it quickly. “Oh, fuck. Now I feel bad. Sorry we didn't join you guys.”
Penny shrugged and made a ring with her finger and thumb, then inserted the finger of her other hand into the ring.
“Gross,” Mila said, giving her a narrow-eyed stare before smiling. “But also true.”
“What happened?” Finn asked from the coatrack.
“I forgot that we ordered pizza. They ate without us.” Mila finished the note and put it in her hoodie pocket. “It also looks like Danica headed to the bar early. She’ll meet us there.”
“Sounds good. Hey, you never did tell me what you ended up doing today,” Finn said, pulling on a worn leather motorcycle jacket he had found in a thrift store that miraculously fit him.
“Oh, man. I think you’re going to like this one. Penny can remind me of any details I miss,” Mila said, leading the way out the door.
“Did you guys have fun?”
“More or less.”
Mila held on tight as Finn gave Death Machine more gas and leaned into the sweeping turn.
They had gotten out of the city and into the mountains without any problems, and Mila had to admit that riding with Finn was a much better experience than riding with Danica. For starters, Finn was a much more solid person to cling to, and he turned out to be a very conscientious driver. But the biggest difference was that the Triumph Bonneville, the bike the tricked-out Death Machine was built from, was a much more stable motorcycle than the piece-of-shit dirt bike Harvey had lent them.
