Page 21 of Smoke and Mirrors
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”
“Razvan.”
11
MELODY
Wandering through a campsite of scary, tattooed men was the last thing I wanted to do. Not to mention seeing Raz again so soon after our confrontation filled me with dread. But for Connor’s pain relief, no price was too high.
Leers from Razvan’s men, a group of fire breathers and knife throwers who called themselves the Flaming Swords, crawled across my skin like the legs of insects. The man sitting at the fire with the half-naked girl in his lap seemed too preoccupied to stare at me, so I chose him to approach.
“Excuse me,” I said in as clear a voice as I could.
The girl looked up at me first, glaring daggers. The man slowly pulled his head away from her chest and regarded me with an annoyed expression.
“Can I help ye, ringmistress?”
His accent took me aback. I knew I’d seen him speaking Romanian with Raz and the others but his lilt sounded Irish.
“I’m looking for Razvan.”
“Aye.” He threw an arm around the woman’s shoulders and palmed her breast as if no one was watching. “And do ye see him?”
Of course this guy was going to fuck with me. They would never make it easy on me.
“No.” I offered a smile despite raging on the inside. “I’m wondering if you could tell me where he is?”
“In case ye haven’t noticed,” he replied with infuriating calm. “I’ve been a little busy with my pet here to keep track of his comings and goings. And trust me, ringmistress,” his eyes flicked up and down my body, “if he wanted to see ye, ye wouldn’t need to ask me.”
Before I could wrap my head around whether this guy was insulting me or not, a string of Romanian words flowed through air like music behind me. I turned to find a familiar pair of steel grey eyes looking back at me.
“Steluta,” he murmured before catching himself and hardened his expression. “What are you doing here, Melody?”
Shit, shit, shit. I didnotfeel ready for this.
“Can I talk to you privately?” I could barely get the words out with my heart trying to force its way up my throat.
“I thought you were done talking to me.”
His tone made me flinch but I somehow forced myself to stand my ground, despite feeling like I would crumble at any moment.
“This isn’t about me, or us.” My nails dug into my palms. “It’s Connor.”
His eyebrows lifting a fraction of an inch were the only sign of emotion on his face. He stared at me for so long, I began to worry he’d tell me to go.
He abruptly turned to go back inside his tent. “Make it quick.” He slapped the flap open and went inside, not bothering to hold it open for me.
Steeling myself, I followed him in and took a moment to let my eyes adjust.
The inside of the tent was open, roomy, and comfortable, like a rich hunter’s pavilion. A worn Persian rug stretched out across the ground, its pattern faded from years of use but no less beautiful and intricate. At the far end of the pavilion, a king-sized air mattress laid on the floor. It was haphazardly covered in sheets and pillows like the sleeper had been tossing and turning all night. Or having wild sex.
My stomach dropped at the thought of Razvan fucking Ally in that bed. Did they ever? Had he brought anyone else here? I shouldn’t have cared but the thoughts of him with anyone else bothered me immensely.
“So, what’s up with Connor?” Razvan asked tersely. He folded his arms as he leaned against a table covered in an assortment of knives and swords. I couldn’t help but notice all of them pointing straight at me.
“He’s in a lot of pain,” I answered, lifting my eyes from the polished steel to meet his. “I was hoping you could help him.”
“My boys already gave him something for that,” he growled. “Try again.”
