She had half-expected to be stopped.
Yet when she’d ventured downstairs a quarter of an hour ago, no one had barred her way. In fact, the place had been empty.
Now, two heads turned as one.
Reaper had pulled two stools up to the bar and sat on one as he lounged against the counter, one elbow propped on the surface, his boots sprawled across the second stool. His coin flicked between his fingers. Knight stood behind the bar, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, expression unreadable.
Still no Maxen.
Calliope hesitated in the doorway, suddenly unsure. The last time she’d seen this man she hadn’t been at her best. He wouldn’t want revenge, would he?
Reaper offered a grin. “Well, look who didn’t run for the hills. Please alert us next time you leave our den. For safety purposes.”
Knight said nothing. Just watched her, eyes flicking briefly to the hound at her side.
“No one was here.”
“A shout will do.”
Calliope rolled her eyes. “Am I safe to enter?” she asked, voice dry. “Or will I be threatened, tied up, or interrogated?”
His grin widened. “That depends. Are you planning to tie any more of us up?”
“I make no promises.”
The man chuckled. Reaper motioned lazily to a table. “Hungry? Knight’s cooked up his famous stew.”
She ventured over, and Knight moved toward the back without a word.
“Sit. You’re not a prisoner here, little mouse.”
“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she muttered, but complied, Prince settling at her feet.
“Why? Do women not like sweet nicknames?”
Calliope arched a brow at the man. Was that a serious question? Her gaze flicked over his scar, the man as a whole. It probably was. “Yes, nothing flatters a woman more than being compared to a rodent.”
He laughed.
Knight returned with a bowl and cutlery and set the dish before her, tossing a meaty bone at Prince. “Hot. Don’t burn your tongue.”
“Thank you,” Calliope murmured.
Reaper chuckled. “That’s as hot ashegets.”
She wasn’t complaining. Dipping the spoon into the thick broth, she took a cautious bite. Taste exploded in her mouth. “Stars, that’s good.” She looked over to Reaper. “Where’s your brother?”
The man studied her. “Which one?”
Her look turned flat. “You know which one.”
“Oh. Him. He’sbusy.”
“With what?” she asked curiously.
Knight spoke from the bar. “Protecting what’s his.”
Well, then!
