He arched his neck as the last of the drink went down, then snapped his head back, locks flying.
Sheba swore he smoked up the room with spectral lightning and fire.
Tossing his glorious mane forward, the glass sailed upward and landed upright before the cobra.
The serpent struck, but his mark was long gone.
Idan leapt back with such speed that Sheba struggled to follow him.
His boots seemed to float over the shells and dirt, landing with a ballerina’s grace at least ten feet away, his balance perfect.
The crowd erupted into wilder laughter, cheers, and roars of appreciation as coins and notes showered the arena.
A young man, the creature’s handler, swept in, guiding the viper into a reed basket and sealing it shut.
More schills rained down.
Idan gathered them with unhurried efficiency, lips curved in a restrained smile, expression unreadable.
‘Is thiskinaifor real?’ Sheba murmured to no one in particular.
At that moment, he lifted his head and turned as his gaze found her.
His silver-gold, luminous, and freakin’ unusual eyes locked onto hers with devastating intensity.
The sensation speared through her chest, heat and pressure fusing into a single unbearable awareness.
She jolted, breath hitching, while his countenance remained calm, assessing.
He then tore his eyes away, nodding to the handler who slipped away with his precious basket into the night.
Idan crossed the floor and stopped before an older man with braided hair and a weathered face.
‘Who’s that?’ Sheba asked, still entranced.
‘That’s Xian Huey,’ Reyes said. ‘The village alderman.’
Idan counted out half his winnings and placed them into the Chief’s palm without ceremony.
No words passed between them. Just an exchange of nods, twitches to their lips in shared understanding, and a chin lift from the long-haired male anomaly.
Idan turned and traversed the bar with unhurried purpose toward the medical team, slowing his prowl to a stop as he approached the medics.
The sensuous foil of him rolled over Sheba, earth, musk, smoke, and sun-baked stone, drowning out the candle wax and yeasty scents of the bar.
Her entire body almost convulsed.
What the fokk was it, with this man?
He reached into his belt pouch, withdrew the remaining schills, and set them down in a neat stack before the physicians.
The table creaked as he tapped the surface with one lean, ringed finger and gave Brad a chin jerk.
For a moment, no one spoke.
He inclined his head once and, without uttering a word, moved past them again. Vanishing back into the churn of bodies and noise as though he hadn’t just shifted the balance of the room.
‘The hell?’ Sheba breathed.
