The thought of seeing her tonight had his stomach in fluttering knots. A nervous excitement that not even the tumbler of bourbon pooling condensation onto the bar could tame.
She’d said she needed space, and he respected that.
But he had no idea how he was supposed to act around her tonight.
He knew how hewantedto act. The moment he saw her, he’d be fighting his instincts to wrap her in his arms and squeeze her close. Ask how she’d been feeling, what she’d been doing. Maybe sniff her hair like an obsessed freak.
And the fact that he no longer knew whether she would welcome or resent those gestures had him reaching for his drink and throwing it back in a single gulp.
He settled the glass onto the bar as Reena approached.
“What’s this about, Reena? You were a bit vague in that message you sent me.”
“I know as much as you do, big boy.” She smiled slyly as she gestured to the front of the tavern. “But looks like we’re both about to find out.”
The red door opened, and Tristan’s heart stuttered.
As Cassandra stepped into the tavern, her blue-gray eyes landed on him and he had to grab hold of the bar to physically restrain himself from running to her.
She ambled towards him, a shy, wary smile curving the gorgeous lips that he could still feel pressed against his stomach, his cock. As she approached the bar, her honey and rosewood scent invaded his nostrils and he almost wept with joy.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He bit back the tidal wave of questions flooding his mind.
Have you been thinking of me as much as I’ve been thinking of you?
Do you still need space?
Are we still friends?
“Reena said you wanted to talk to me?” That’s what his brain decided to go with? Smooth.
Reena’s feline gaze bounced between the two of them like a cat watching a mouse zigzag across the floorboards. Her crimson lips parted—about to pounce—but Cassandra cut in as she climbed onto the barstool next to him.
“Actually, I wanted to talk about Reena.”
Reena reared back, the amusement falling from her face. “Me? I mean, I am a fascinating subject, but with everything you two have going on, why would you want to talk about me?”
Cassandra leaned across the bar and the delicate arch of her back had him itching to run his fingers down her spine.
“We need to talk to you about the Fallen Goddess,” Cassandra whispered and Tristan released a disappointed breath. He should’ve known this conversation would be all work and no play. He berated himself for hoping otherwise.
Reena shot a glance at her fellow bartender, ensuring he hadn’t overheard, then stepped over to ask him to cover for her.
She slid out from behind the bar and motioned for Tristan and Cassandra to follow her through a swinging door.
They traveled through the stock room, wooden crates of liquor bottles and silver kegs of beer lining the walls, to another door that opened upon a set of rickety wooden stairs. The steps groaned, barely holding Tristan’s weight, as the trio descended into a damp, mud-walled space.
The basement was the same size and length as the bar upstairs, filled with cloth-draped furniture and piles of cardboard boxes. A single magically powered bulb hung in the center of the room, casting a circular glow upon the packed dirt floor. Shadows darkened the cob-webbed corners and spots of mold bloomed on the cloths. A rank dampness hung in the air.
Reena propped a hip against a liquor barrel, picking at her nails. “Why do you think I know anything about the Fallen Goddess?”
Cassandra snorted. “If you don’t, why’d you lure us down into the basement?”
Reena’s golden eyes flashed. A warning.
Cassandra raised her palms. “We saw a picture of you. In an old book in the Temple library in Meridon. You were a priestess of Adelphinae in the early years of the war, weren’t you?”
