Page 2 of Her Dark Reflection

‘I want to book time with her.’ His voice was rough, brutal, as he shifted his gaze back to Aalin. ‘What do you say? You can make more than you’ll get collecting tips if you take me upstairs.’

The girl shook her head, her expression creased with anxiety. An ugly scowl cut across the man’s face and he looked as though he was about to reach out and grab her again.

‘If she’s not available, then she’s not available,’ I snapped, standing my ground as he turned his attention back to me, squaring up and moving close enough that I could see the grit in the pores of his nose.

‘How about you then, pretty?’ he said, assailing me with the smell of sour liquor. ‘How about we go to a private room?’

My anger simmered slowly, not hot enough to burn just yet, but enough to make me wrinkle my nose and reply, ‘Not with that breath.’

A few patrons nearby snickered, and his eyes snapped to them, his nostrils flaring. If I’d checked to see that we had an audience, I might not have said it. Asking such a man to handle rejection and public humiliation at the same time was not a smart move. I should have known he was going to try and take back the power I had just stolen from him. With a speed I wouldn’t have expected from him in his state, he reached out and snatched a handful of my hair.

‘I thought the whole point of a whore was being available,’ he snarled. I dropped my lute and it clattered to the floor as I grabbed his hand with both of mine, holding it to my scalp so he couldn’t pull any harder, and ducked behind him, twisting his arm until he let go of me with a yelp.

I waved at Cotus, who was already crossing the room to place his burly hands on the blond’s shoulders. ‘I think you’ve had enough for tonight,’ he said, and the man seemed ready to put up a fight until he took Cotus in properly, assessing his towering height, his broad shoulders, his scarred face. Clearly realizing this was an opponent he couldn’t beat, he turned his attention back to me.

‘You’re going to wish you treated me better,’ he spat.

‘Unlikely,’ I sang, wiggling my fingers in goodbye as he was steered firmly towards the door, his face growing puffy and red with rage.

I felt Madam Luzel’s tight-lipped frown from across the room before I saw it, and I slowly lowered my hand, taking Aalin’s arm instead. ‘Let’s take a break,’ I said, leading her towards the bar.

Her big eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she kept them fixed firmly on the floor.

I suppressed a sigh as I assessed her. ‘That’s going to happen from time to time,’ I said. ‘Try not to take it personally. Men are brutes.’

‘I should have taken him upstairs,’ she mumbled. ‘Madam Luzel will get rid of me now.’

‘Not a good idea. Girls with bruises can’t work. Nor can dead ones.’ She stared at me, and I shrugged. ‘It happens all the time. You’ll learn to pick what men want from you. Some want to fuck, some want you to stroke their head while they tell you about their mother, some want to beat you within an inch of your life. Avoid the last sort.’ I peered at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, smoothing at my dark hair and ensuring the pigment around my eyes and on my lips hadn’t smudged.

‘Rhiandra, someone in the southern booth has asked for you.’ Nataya, who went by the floor name Orca, had been working at the Winking Nymph longer than me, and my curiosity was piqued by her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She seemed flustered.

‘For a song?’ I asked, and she blinked, her face going blank for a moment.

‘I didn’t ask.’

‘I suppose I’ll find out myself.’

She lurched towards me to grip my arm. ‘Rhi,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Is he rich?’

She touched her hand to her mouth, as though trying to keep in her excitement. ‘You won’t care either way when you go over there.’

‘I doubt that.’ I looked around for my lute, catching sight of it still lying where I’d dropped it to the floor. I swooped in to rescue it before heading for the table in question, reflecting on the flicker of unease I felt as I did.

Two men sat in the booth, but one drew my immediate attention. The first thing I noticed about him was the way the shadows seemed to cling to him, bathing him in a deeper darkness than was usual, even for a dimly lit suvoir. His eyes cut through that darkness with a needle-sharp gaze, and when he pinned me with it, my step faltered before I mentally shook myself and kept walking, assessing him with more interest. He held a languid pose, his arms sprawled out over the back of the bench seat, one foot crossed over his knee, tapping out a measured rhythm in the air. Dishevelled dark hair fell about a sharp-jawed face, and he was smirking slightly as he cocked his head at me, watching my every step. I would have called him vicious before I’d called him gorgeous. I’d seen all sorts in my time working at the Winking Nymph, and I could tell a dangerous man when I saw one. I could tell anunnaturalman when I saw one, too, though I couldn’t have told you exactly what gave him away. Perhaps it was the sense of wrongness about him, like he was overlaid on the scene, not quite belonging to the same world as the rest of us.

‘I hear you’d like a song from me?’ I said, smiling invitingly as I neared him. He subjected me to a slow, lingering examination, his gaze dawdling from my face to my breasts, my waist, all the way down my legs, and back up again. I was used to being looked at, of course. What I wasn’t used to was the hot, fluttery feeling that bloomed in my abdomen. My heart beat just a little faster and my skin suddenly felt flushed and sensitive. I wasattractedto him. Well, that was unexpected.

‘This one?’ His companion’s tone was incredulous, and I shot him a glare, remembering to smile just a fraction too late. He was a reedy specimen, with a flop of sandy hair and hands that seemed too big for his body.

‘This one,’ the dark-haired man answered as I returned my attention to him. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Vixen,’ I replied, leaning against the table and strumming my lute. My name was not Vixen, but Madam liked us to call ourselves after the seven sacred animals of the Aether, which was an odd quirk, given that she wasn’t a soil smearer in any sense. She tended to mutter curses under her breath when she saw those white-robed, mud-covered figures in the street promising absolution. I suspect she chose the names because she knew the value of taboo when it came to titillation, or perhaps she just possessed a sick sense of humour. Whatever the reason, it usually meant I was not the only Vixen working the shift. That night, I could pick out at least two others floating around the room.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Vixen,’ he purred, the sound rolling over me like the rumble of distant thunder, prickling my skin.‘What a fitting name.’

‘Is it?’ I asked, continuing to strum my lute, fumbling a chord as he ran a thumb along his bottom lip.

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