Page 57 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

Tharan answered, dressed in only his pants—his bare chest exposed. I tried not to stare at his toned body as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t the mystery woman,” he said, giving me a coy smile. My stupid knees weakened as he leaned a forearm on the doorframe.

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a wink.Who was I? I was a woman who gave winks, apparently.“Would you like to get something to eat?”I wiped my sweaty palms on the expensive dress.

Tharan yawned, stretching so I could see the muscles in his abdomen tighten. “Sure, come in. I’ll get dressed.” He left the door ajar and went to change. I hesitated before stepping in. Gideon’s words from the night before echoed in my head.Whore.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to shake off the shame.

Tharan threw on a thick wool sweater, the color of stained oak, buttoning it to his chin.

We headed out onto the promenade, where elves gave us dirty looks. If it bothered Tharan, he did not show it. I envied the lightness of his steps.

We entered a large dining hall with long wood tables where elves sat chatting with one another, drinking wine, and eating roasted lamb.The smell of roasted meats and vegetables wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble.

Taking a seat at one of the less crowded tables, Tharan hailed a servant, ordering us ale and two plates of lamb stew. “Hope you’re hungry,” he said, handing me the tin plate.

“Starving,” I said, popping a roasted carrot into my mouth. The potent flavor exploded on my tongue. I devoured the rest without so much as a whisper to Tharan, who I noticed reached for seconds when a server came past.

We ate until our bellies groaned.

“Thank you for everything,” I said, sipping the mulled wine—savoring the taste of spices. Pulling the leatherbound cigarettes from my pocket, I placed them on the table between us.

Tharan’s face brightened. “You got my note.”

I had to admire anyone who could be cheerful after almost being killed several times in one night.

“I did.” Arching my eyebrows at him, a cigarette between my lips, I tried to be as seductive as possible. “Thank you.”

I exhaled the smoke into the hall.

Tharan took another drink of his mulled wine before reaching across the table and taking the cigarette from my hand.

Electricity roiled in my veins. Tharan exuded sensuality in a way I had never experienced before. Yes, Caiden possessed handsomeness, but Tharan was an entity unto his own. His scars displayed for the world to see instead of hidden beneath a glamour like mine.

“So, are you going to tell me who you are?” He took a drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke billow into the air. “Judging by your incisors, you’re not fully human.”

Taking back my cigarette, I brought it to my lips, letting the smoke burn in my lungs. “You are correct. I am a half-breed, as they say.”

“Interesting.” He leaned in closer. The candle’s light cast devious shadows across his scarred face. “Which sylph lord bed your mother?”

“None.” I bit my bottom lip, afraid to tell the truth. “Blood magic turned me.”

His expression darkened. “That’s punishable by death. I thought everyone knew that.”

My eyes flitted around the room. I couldn’t look at him—couldn’t tell him the truth. “It wasn’t my idea.” Tears welled behind my eyes. “I was turned against my will.”

Tharan reached for my hand. “Who?”

My words stuck in my throat. “King Gideon of the Highlands. He and I were… are… married.”

“Interesting.” Tharan leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

I took a long drag of my cigarette while I waited for his response.

“You probably think I’m a?—”

“I don’t think anything about you, Aelia Springborn.”

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