I bring the key closer, preparing to drop it down the front of my shirt and bury it in my corset.
He huffs a laugh. “Do you think I won’t retrieve it?”
That gives me pause. “It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of you.”
“Nor was it very ladylike for you to grope my nethers the way you did.” A suggestive lilt plays in his tone.
I burn him with a scowl. “You made me do that.”
His crooked grin grows devious. “Is that why you want to put the key down your shirt? Because you like the thought of where it’s been? Does it give you pleasure to think of my big, hard…key…pressed between your breasts?”
I don’t think such fire has ever filled my cheeks before now. I can only hope he doesn’t see it, that his impression of me is strong enough to hide everything about my true face.
Based on the smug confidence in his eyes, I’m starting to fear hecansee my blush.
“You do know that thing is probably covered in ogre blood. Do you want that touching your—”
With a frustrated growl, I thrust out my hand toward him. He doesn’t hesitate to take the key from me. I note that instead of slipping it into his underbritches, he slides it into his pocket. Probably doesn’t want ogre blood touching his private bits either.
He gives my cuff a gentle tug and we take a step toward the front end of the building. The Huntsman stiffens and pulls up short. It takes me a moment to realize what startled him. My mind goes to the worst possible scenario—that the ogre managed to survive the bear’s deadly blow and is preparing to attack again.
Then I see the silhouettes crowding the mouth of the alley.
It appears we have an audience.
9
THE HUNTSMAN
Men and women spill into the alley, halting when they glimpse the scene before them. Based on the half-dressed state of our spectators, they must be patrons from Lust. Despite the music coming from the brothel, I suppose the ogre’s final, rumbling fall was loud enough to catch someone’s attention from inside. Still, I curse myself for not having sensed their presence before we were spotted. The aromas of ogre blood mingling with the floral fragrances from the garden behind the building are too strong, clouding my sense of smell.
Damn. It seems we won’t be able to flee the gory scene without notice like I’d hoped.
I take a steadying breath, wincing against the cloying, searing odors that flood my nostrils. Then, with my cuffed hand, I take Astrid’s palm in mine, once again masking our bindings beneath the guise of overly familiar touch.
I lead us toward the group of people. As we reach them, a tall, slender figure parts the crowd to confront us. She’s a fae female with pink skin and ruby-red hair. A sprite, perhaps, in seelie form. Her eyes land on Astrid, then widen.
“Miss Lovecraft!” the fae woman says with a gasp. Her gaze slides to the body behind us, and she launches a step back. Her lips curl into a sneer. “Is that…blood?”
Astrid’s scent flares with panic. “Madame Desire—”
“What have you done to attract such…such,” she points down the alley at the silhouette of the dead ogre, “such a repulsive spectacle to my establishment? Do not tell me this is the result of your…line of work.”
Astrid opens her mouth, but I speak first, choosing my words carefully to ensure they are true. “I rescued this woman from an ogre attack. Had I not acted, there’s a chance he could have targeted your brothel next.” The last part rings with a hint of untruth, but my use of the wordchanceallows me to utter such a statement. There’s always a chance anything can happen.
Madame Desire’s irritation softens the slightest bit, especially as she looks me up and down. “How lucky Miss Lovecraft was to be protected by such a handsome savior.” Her eyes briefly land on our clasped hands, sparking something like envy in her eyes.
To ensure further cooperation, I reach into the pocket of my torn waistcoat and extract a large gold coin stamped with an intricate sigil bearing the lettersAC.
I hand it to Madame Desire. She examines it for only a moment before her eyes fly back to mine. “You serve the Alpha Council.” Her statement elicits awed looks and a flurry of whispers from the crowd behind her.
My skin crawls to have this information so freely shared before spectators. I work best when I can keep a low profile. And yet, sharing my identity so publicly might be our only way to avoid further complications. Killing a fellow fae, even in self-defense, normally comes with a hefty dose of legal proceedings. But not for the Alpha Council’s appointed Huntsman when he’s on duty. “Yes, and I am on private business here at the hotel.”
She hands the coin back to me, and her expression turns sickly sweet. “You must be a very important man. Please take my gratitude for protecting my humble establishment from such vile characters as that…monster.” Her expression flashes with disgust as her gaze darts back to the dead ogre. She lowers her voice. “I will speak with Madame Honor and have this matter taken care of discreetly.”
Madame Honor must be the head of Department Pride. It makes sense Pride would encompass such aspects as cleanliness. And the disposal of dead bodies. “I accept your gratitude and your cooperation, but I will ask for one more thing.”
“Anything.” Madame Desire flutters her lashes and bats a flirty hand toward me, as if she intends to brush her fingertips over my chest. Astrid’s palm goes rigid in mine, and I feel a sudden tenseness radiate up her arm. Madame Desire’s fingers stop inches away from my torso just as her gaze locks on the bloody gashes in my clothing. She snatches her hand back and places it on her amply curving hip instead.
