He snorts, smiling for the first time. It’s a lovely sight, even if it looks tired and forced. “You would do well to do the same, Sephania Lock. There’s trouble brewing in Nuhav. People aren’t happy.”
I turn toward the ladder, knowing I won’t get further into the Grimsons lair and feeling fine with it. I’ve said my piece. When he says “People aren’t happy,” I let out a snappy cackle. “When have people ever been happy on the Floorboards?”
His wry smile reminds me of the Ant of old. “Right. It’s different now, though. The rumblings are louder, not just relegated to the back-alleys and rumor dens. I’m sure you can see for yourself at any tavern you visit.”
I nod and start to climb. “Thank you for the warn—”
“Ah! A tavern!” Garroway interjects giddily. “Afineidea, Master Graybeard. I could use a drink.”
“Hoy,” Ant grumbles, “watch your tone, grayskin, orMaster Graybeardwill kick your—”
“You’re a dhampir,” I cut in, looking down the ladder at Garroway’s shiny head. “You don’t drink ale.”
He smiles sharply up at me. And damned if he doesn’t wink again in that dashing way that makes my blood run hot. “I didn’t saywhatI wanted to drink, lass.”
Chapter 9
Garroway
I take my little honey badger to the nearest tavern to see if I can get her mind off her worries. I take my job seriously, making sure she is all right and not lost in the throes of misery. Would that I could, I’d prefer to see her lost in the throes of lust. It’s been such a long time since she’s commanded me to do her bidding in the bedroom.
The night is getting late once we climb the ladder out of the Firehold. I’m happy to be out of that dreary place, and Sephania looks to be as well.
I feel a slight tug on my psyche, blinking away the intrusion before taking Seph’s hand and dragging her down the road.
“Where are you taking us?” she asks, surprised at my urgency.
I hum to myself, lost in my head. My mind has been fractured ever since tasting Sephania for the first time, and it’s only gotten worse with every bloodletting we partake in. Two commanding presences vie for attention in my mind: my original master Skartovius, and my newer mistress Sephania.
Right now, it’s Skar probing my thoughts with our weakened bond, intruding to see if he can tell what we’re doing.“This evening is not for you, Master. It’s for me and my mistress,”I say in my head.
The problem is—as it has been for ages now—I get no response. The tug pulses brighter for a moment and then it’s gone, dissipating behind my mental barriers. I may be a half-blood, but I’m no stranger to putting up walls to protect myself. Even from a powerful nobleblood like Lord Ashfen.
My eyes search the sides of the empty roads, fervently seeking out a den where I’ll feel welcome. I need to make sure Sephania is comfortable too.
Passing by a busy tavern, we watch as a duo of lads stumbles out of the murkily lit doorway and laugh with each other. Once they’re out of sight of the tavern, the young man on the left pushes his friend up against a wall and promptly goes to his knees, yanking his friend’s pants down.
I pull Sephania along as we pass them, deciding we’ll go elsewhere. “It’s too busy in that place anyway,” I murmur under my breath, as much to myself as her.
Beside me, Sephania’s head twists on her neck as she watches the event between the young men play out in the darkness. “Don’t call me a prude, but is that man about to . . .”
“Suck the other’s cock? Sure looked like it, lass. Why, wish to partake?” I smile mischievously at her.
Her cheeks flame and she waves me off. “I thought we were looking for a drink, not a cock.”
My shoulders rise. “Could be both.”
She laughs and we continue down the wretched road. At this hour, in this part of the city, all the ne’er-do-wells make their mark on the world. This is the time for vagrants and brigands to come alive, and the militant Bronzes let it slide because there’s too much debauchery going on to shut it all down. So they don’t even try.
Sometimes I come to Nuhav to get away from the stuffy haughtiness of Olhav. Other times, I come here to decompress, imbibing in my addictions to set me right.
Seph doesn’t know anything about that. I can feel the itch now. It’s a throbbing in my blood that sets me off, much thesame way as the throbbing in my pants has begun after seeing those two lads fervently face-fucking each other.
One addiction I have is not like the other. My need for Sephania’s flesh is only half the battle. The other, well . . . it started long ago, before I even knew the girl. It has nothing to do with pleasures of the flesh or the “urges” Vallan had before meeting Sephania.
We come to a quiet offshoot of the road. I beeline for a squat two-story building with its windows open. Orange light from the apertures invite us toward the door.
“What’s this place?” she asks as we approach.
