With a flat palm, I caught the coin and pushed it across the bar. “Liqueur.”
Sindri took the coin and poured a small glass of amber-colored liquid. “Drinking on patrol again, are we?” The barkeep’s eyes were a deep brown, yet they always held a gleam of mirth, which gave them an odd lightness, a shine.
Grunting, I took the drink and tossed it back. When I lowered my fist to the table, he filled the cup again.I’ve been a fool to think I can avoid Astraea.The second shot brought with it a burn in the back of my throat and a comforting numbness. I sighed as the scratching of the monster beneath my skin settled, then ceased. I rubbed at my temples with my left hand and inhaled deeply when the scent of my leather gloves overpowered the sickening scent of the Queen’s rose perfume.
“You shouldn’t let Cyan get to you,” Sindri said.
I raised my head from my palm. Had he seen us talking before? My visit with Astraea had distracted me so much so that I’d forgotten about Cyan. Again, my stomach twisted, and I peered into the crowd, but the group of young girls who’d been dancing was nowhere in sight. Neither was Cyan.
I grunted in response.
“Another drink and some quiet, friend?”
I nodded, grateful, and shot back the glass so it could be filled once more, withdrawing another canin to cover my tab as I drank. “Thank you, Sindri.”
The barkeep left me to my thoughts, returning to pick up the casual conversation with the men from before. Sindri had a confident air that I envied. The dance in his smile, the waypeople laughed when he spoke. Even as I preferred the quiet, a part of me longed to be so easily and warmly received by others.
I traced a finger around the rim of my cup.
A woman came to sit two stools down, and Sindri went to her. I gave the exchange little attention, even as the woman’s voice rose, sharp and clipped as she began to argue with him. I clenched my jaw, the twinge of a headache prickling at my temples, then tossed back my drink, trying to tune them out.
“Well, I don’t have any coin,” the woman said pointedly.
“I’m sorry—”
“Are you?” she said.
I gritted my teeth. My glass was empty, and I couldn’t hear myself think. I drew an additional silver canin from my pocket, palmed it on the counter, and slid it across the smooth surface. It stopped between the two, halting their bickering, and they turned to me in unison. Sindri raised a thin black brow, but it was the woman who captivated me. Enthralled me.
My chest thrummed. I inhaled sharply, the air crisp and new, as if I’d never drawn breath before.
The coloring of her hair was unusual. It reminded me of Nyana’s spices, a mix of cinnamon, turmeric, and cayenne. A mask veiled her eyes and gave her an air of mystery. Beneath the sudden racing of my heart, I fought to determine what it was that drew my attention to her so sharply. Yet there was nothing from my training that would cause me to set her apart, no notion that she was a threat or really anyone at all. The simple coloring of her skirts suggested she was a commoner enjoying the courtyard.
The woman’s lips curved up into a smile, mocking almost, as she turned back to Sindri and pointedly pushed the coin to him. Her lips were a faint peach tone, and the thought of tasting them sent a rush of heat through my body. The sensation was indescribable. Reminiscent almost of the shock that comes withdiving into frigid water, yet also entirely different. I swallowed and turned my eyes back to my drink.
With a shudder, I fidgeted in my seat, face heating. The beating of my heart resonated throughout my body, throbbed even in my cock. How long had I been vexed by my inability to get a rise for a woman? Yet as I hardened, my breaches becoming increasingly too confining for the size of me, a new uneasiness filled me. One more assertive than Cyan’s jibes, heavier than the lingering scent of rose hips, and more pressing, even, than the thoughts of being sent across the sea to Valio.
“Are you alright?” Sindri asked under his breath, leaning in close and refilling my cup. I stared at his presence, and he raised one brow in question.
“I’m fine,” I said, tone short. I lowered my eyes back to my glass.
Sindri stretched and turned his back to the bar, leaning against it on my other side. He lowered to an elbow, feigning interest in the bard, though his eyes occasionally drifted back to the woman. “She’s pretty,” he said just above a whisper, “but you’ve turned away others just as fair. What’s different about this one?”
Unable to resist, I risked another glance. The woman tapped her fingers on the bar top to the beat of the bard’s song. The words choked in my throat, yet the throbbing of my need was irrefutable. Voice low, I aired the realization, more to myself than to Sindri. “I desire her.”
Snorting back laughter, Sindri coughed and pounded his chest. When the woman turned to him, I quickly averted my eyes. Sindri played it off in the easy-talking way of a barkeep, then propped his forearms on the bar, leaning in close again. When he spoke, amusement laced his tone.
“Perhaps don’t tellherthat so bluntly,” he advised.
Lacking a proper response, I grunted.
“Just talk to her,” Sindri encouraged. With a considering twist of his lips, he added, “And maybe slow down on the liquor.”
Reminded of my drink, I eagerly consumed it, hoping it might settle my nerves. Sindri shook his head, tsked, and left me.
Talk to her.
Right. I could do that. I was confident with women, knew how to make them swoon.But where did this desire come from? Why now, after all these years? Why her?
