I Fell Into the Mortal World

I am the daughter of the Lord of the Underworld.

That sounds impressive.

It is impressive.

Usually.

But on the day everything began, I was not doing anything majestic like judging souls, commanding ghosts, or cursing the bloodline of my enemies.

I was wearing underwear, dripping wet from a bath, and yelling at my dog.

“Cerberus Junior!”

My dog stared at me with the eyes of an innocent angel.

Liar.

The floor behind him had a hole in it.

A large hole.

A deep hole.

A suspiciously realm-breaking hole.

While I was shopping with my ghost sisters, that furry demon had chewed through the wooden floor of my bedroom and opened a crack between the Underworld and the mortal realm.

I called the Underworld repair office immediately.

“Princess Lyra,” the ghost clerk said nervously, “the carpenter reincarnated yesterday.”

“What?”

“He entered a newborn body at dawn.”

“So?”

“So we must wait for a new carpenter to die before we can send anyone.”

I closed my eyes.

Underworld bureaucracy.

The real hell.

I hung up and pointed at Cerberus Junior.

“As punishment, tomorrow you eat vegetables.”

His ears dropped.

He wagged his tail.

Manipulative beast.

“Do not act cute. It will not work.”

I stepped around him.

Unfortunately, my slippers were wet.

Unfortunately, his enormous tail swept across my calf at that exact moment.

Unfortunately, gravity has no respect for royal blood.

“Ah!”

I slipped.

My body slid across the floor.

Straight into the hole.

For one breath, I saw darkness.

Then light.

Then steam.

Then a door opened.

A man walked out of a bathroom wearing nothing but blue striped underwear.

I froze.

He froze.

No.

Actually, he did not freeze.

He turned his head sharply toward me.

The mortal world was more vivid than I expected.

Warm air.

Water vapor.

Human furniture.

Human scent.

Human man.

Very attractive human man.

His upper body was firm, lean, and shaped like someone the gods had carved on a particularly inspired afternoon. His shoulders were broad. His waist narrow. His thighs—

I swallowed.

Loudly.

This was not appropriate.

I was a ghost princess.

I had dignity.

Somewhere.

Probably still in the Underworld with my bathrobe.

The man’s eyes narrowed in my direction.

My nonexistent heartbeat nearly stopped.

Could he see me?

Impossible.

Mortals cannot see spirits unless their fate is twisted, cursed, or recently deceased.

His gaze was sharp enough to cut silk.

I stood there in my underwear, suddenly desperate to crawl back into the hole and punish my dog later.

Then the man lifted both hands.

Long fingers searched along the wall.

Slowly, carefully, he moved toward another room.

I stared.

Oh.

He was blind.

I let out a breath.

“Scared me to death,” I muttered.

Well.

Scared me to un-death.

Same thing.

Curiosity pushed me forward.

I floated after him into the bedroom.

He had already found the bed and lay down beneath the covers.

His lashes rested against his cheeks.

His jawline could have ruined a dynasty.

His lips were soft, pale pink, and criminally inviting.

A strange electric shock struck somewhere in the region of my ghostly chest.

I hovered beside the bed, gazing at his face.

Then I made a decision.

A rational decision.

A practical decision.

A decision any sensible Underworld princess would make after falling through a floor and meeting a beautiful blind mortal in underwear.

“I want him dead,” I whispered.

“I’ll take him to the Underworld and make him keep me company.”