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  Cold, Grant thought. It was dark and so cold, and he was so very tired. He spied a hollow between the oak tree’s roots—a hollow that surely hadn’t existed hundreds of years earlier, but looked inviting now. A good spot to curl up and sleep.

  Grant strode to the hollow, fell to his knees, and began to dig. Bare hands worked fine as he moved through the loose top layers of decaying leaves. But eventually the leaves gave way to soft dirt and then packed soil. Grant’s fingernails broke and bled—scarlet mixing with black earth—but he didn’t slow down. If anything he sped his efforts, pausing only to use his upper sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow.

  Deep in the hole he’d made, his fingers touched something round and hard. Like stone. But he knew it wasn’t. He gently loosened the surrounding soil, then lifted the object.

  The lower mandible was gone, but what remained of the skull was in good condition, the teeth still intact. Grant brushed the loose dirt away and stared into the empty eye sockets. “I’m sorry, Predimir. You deserved so much love.”

  “So do you.”

  Grant nearly dropped the skull as he whirled around.

  A young man stood a few yards away. He was just out of his teens, his long legs and wide shoulders still out of proportion. He was dressed similarly to Miro in sneakers, olive-colored jeans, and a dark blue parka. His shoulder-length hair was the color of a new penny, his eyes were like a clear lagoon, and he held a golden apple.

  “Perun.” Grant could barely get the word out.

  “I would like it if you called me Predimir instead. Please.” He shoved the apple into a pocket and ducked his head shyly.

  Grant gingerly set the skull on the ground before standing. He tried to wipe some of the mess from his hands. “Is this where—”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “Which here? This forest or this village or—”

  “Croatia. It is a long way from your home.”

  Grant nodded. “I quit my job. I thought I’d try to… I don’t know. Find myself. And Filip’s always going on about how great his homeland is, so I thought I’d start here.” All of that was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. He whispered the rest. “I hoped I’d find some traces of you.”

  Predimir surged forward, sending Grant back against the oak’s trunk, pressing his own body flush against him. He framed Grant’s face with his palms. “You found more than traces.” He smelled of the forest, and he felt solid and real.

  “Oh God.”

  “Yes,” Predimir responded with a grin. “But with you I would like to be a man instead of a god.”

  Grant struggled to find words that made sense. “Can you… can you do that?”

  “My duties are light these days. So many other gods to share the work.”

  Grant thought back to when he’d handed in his two weeks’ notice. Rather than considering a replacement, his boss had sighed loudly and said they’d divvy up Grant’s tasks among the other midlevel managers. The empty position would make a good cost-cutting measure. “You can just quit, and others will take over?” Grant asked Predimir.

  “No. Every year at Koleda, Chernobog will kill me.”

  Tears sprang to Grant’s eyes, and he shook his head. “I saw how much it hurt you. I can’t… I can’t….”

  “I have died a thousand times, my love. The sweetest death was in your arms. And you held me. Nobody has done that before. Can you be brave and strong with me for those few days only? The rest of the year, the world will be ours.” Predimir leaned his forehead against Grant’s. “Is it too much to ask?”

  “Not if you promise I will be there every year, to be with you when you die.”

  Predimir shuddered against him. “Yes. I promise.”

  It was ridiculous. Grant had never dated anyone for longer than a few weeks, and here he was, pledging eternal love and support to a thousand-year-old Slavic god. But hell if that didn’t make more sense than spending his life alone, slogging through a meaningless job. So he kissed Predimir, who responded eagerly, moaning deep in his throat and lacing his hands behind Grant’s head.

  When they broke apart, Predimir’s pale skin carried a rosy flush. “I want more of that. And….” He pushed his pelvis against Grant’s. “This. You’ll show me how?”

  Grant groaned. “You’re a virgin?” Somehow that was the most astonishing bit of information so far.

  Predimir’s answering smile held more devil than deity. “For now.”

  “Wh-what am I going to tell Miro’s family? They’re expecting me, and—”

  A second kiss silenced him. Then Predimir shrugged. “I will explain to them. They’re my family too.”

  “Really?”

  “Ask Miro’s mother to show you the print hanging in her bedroom. It’s supposed to be a saint, but….”

  “But he has orange hair and he’s holding an ax.”

  “Precisely.”

  This kiss was tender, just the barest brush of lips, but it burned like fire.

  “Maybe we ought to get a hotel room instead,” said Grant.

  Predimir stepped back, lifted Grant’s hand, and kissed the back of it. “We’ve waited this long. We can wait a bit longer.”

  Grant nodded, then glanced down at the ground. “What about your, uh, head?”

  “We’ll keep it here under the oak tree. We can visit it every year just before Koleda, and you can tell me how much more handsome I am in the flesh.”

  “A new holiday tradition. I can live with that.”

  Hand in muddy hand, they began the walk to the village. Grant was still a bit dizzied by his life’s unexpected twists, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he wouldn’t choose to be anyplace else.

  KIM FIELDING is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Her books have won Rainbow Awards and span a variety of genres. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full-time. She also dreams of having two perfectly behaved children, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.

  Blogs: kfieldingwrites.com and www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding/blog

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Twitter: @KFieldingWrites

  By Kim Fielding

  Alaska

  Anyplace Else

  Animal Magnetism (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Astounding!

  The Border

  Brute

  Don’t Try This at Home (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Grateful

  A Great Miracle Happened There

  Grown-up

  Housekeeping

  Love Can’t Conquer

  Men of Steel (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Motel. Pool.

  Night Shift

  Pilgrimage

  The Pillar

  Phoenix

  Rattlesnake

  With Venona Keyes: Running Blind

  Saint Martin’s Day

  Snow on the Roof (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Speechless • The Gig

  Steamed Up (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  The Tin Box

  Venetian Masks

  Violet’s Present

  BONES

  Good Bones

  Buried Bones

  The Gig

  Bone Dry

  GOTHIKA

  Stitch (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Bones (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Claw (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Spirit (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Contact (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Published by

  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tal
lahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Anyplace Else

  © 2016 Kim Fielding.

  Cover Art

  © 2016 Paul Richmond.

  http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-63533-165-3

  Published December 2016

  v. 1.0

  Printed in the United States of America