Page 14 of Blood Weaver
“Ah, Lomewood's famous green skies,” he mused. “But until that day, how about a dance? Just one. No tricks, no riddles.”
I shook my head. “Some other time, maybe.”
He bowed dramatically. “Until our paths cross again, dear Leila.”
And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to wonder about the mysteries that surrounded him.
I opened the doors of the Rose Petal and stood at the doorway a moment, surveying the scene. In the center of the lounge was a stage where musicians played a tantalizing melody. Dancers draped in gowns of deep reds, soft pinks, and shimmering golds moved gracefully to the rhythm, their every motion echoing the allure and mystique of the roses for which the lounge was named.
Around the stage were plush velvet seating areas. Each was like a private alcove surrounded by beaded curtains, offering patrons both a view of the entertainment and a degree of privacy. The men, mostly rich merchants and visiting nobles, reclined on the seats, their lidded eyes fixed on the performers and their glasses filled with the finest wines.
It was an opulent setting, designed to cater to the senses and provide an escape from the outside world. But beneath its glamorous veneer, the Rose Petal Lounge held stories of many women like Selene, bound by circumstances, dreams deferred, and hopes held close to their hearts. As much as the place was a testament to Lomewood's prosperity and luxury, it was also a reminder of the disparities and hidden stories that often went unnoticed in the glittering glow of the chandeliers.
I stopped one of the girls as she was making her way across the room and lightly touched her arm. “Can you please let Selene know I’m here?” Without a word, she nodded and headed in the direction I knew Selene to be.
Finding an empty table, I settled into a chair and watched the entertainment from afar. One of the girls recognized me andbrought over a jug of wine and a cup. I accepted it graciously and poured myself a drink.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a male voice said from behind me. I turned and looked up into Ronan’s face. My mood, which had just started to recover from seeing Orion, plummeted to the pits of hell all over again.
“What do you want?” I grumbled and turned back around to face the performers.
Without waiting for an invitation, Ronan came around and sat in the empty chair at the table, setting his sheathed sword on top of it. He flagged down one of the girls and got an extra cup, then helped himself to my wine.
“I didn’t peg you for the type to fancy these sorts of lounges.” He drank the wine in one gulp. “But this is the second time I’ve met you here. It must be destiny,” he smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “More like I’m being punished for something. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else instead of hanging around me andmywine?”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Leila. I’ll buy you an even better wine. I heard the Rose Petal has a very expensive wine called A Thousand Roses. Consider it an olive branch?”
I ignored his offer. “Have you learned who poisoned you?”
His relaxed expression turned stony in a blink. “Yes.”
I peered over at him. “And?”
“And it was handled. That’s all you need to know.”
I snorted. “Of course.”
“You look beautiful, by the way. You should wear more dresses instead of those hideous trousers,” he said, changing the subject. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were one of the courtesans of the Rose Petal.”
I glared at him. “I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“Definitely a compliment.” He grinned, his crimson eyes full of mischief, and opened his mouth to say something else when one of the girls slithered over to him and began to dance between his legs.
The dancer, a young woman with blonde hair cascading down her back and gold hoop earrings that shimmered in the dim lounge light, moved sinuously, drawing the attention of those seated at nearby tables. But it was apparent that she was putting on a show for Ronan's benefit. Her hands trailed up his chest as she continued her sultry dance.
Ronan's eyes momentarily shifted to the dancer with a fleeting look of interest before he turned back to me. His eyes met mine, a challenging glint in them. “Jealous?” he teased.
“Hardly,” I responded, taking a deep sip of my wine and looking away from his intense gaze.
From my peripheral vision, I secretly watched as he continued to stare at me while he trailed the girls’ curves with his large hands, appreciating her without degrading her. He leaned back in his chair, opening himself up more for the girl to dance.
“Females are quite exquisite creatures,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. “The curves of their hips, the mounds of their breasts,” he said as his hands traced every part he mentioned. “Their supple skin and the quiet sighs when one touches all the right places. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
My face heated and I took another sip of my wine, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
Ronan's eyes remained fixed on the profile of my face. Growing bold, I turned to face him, prepared to show him my disgust but found myself ensnared when his once crimson eyes appeared to grow a shade darker until they were nearly black. I shifted in my seat. Suddenly the room felt vast and empty, but the rolling energy cascaded all around me and I was unable to look away.
