Page 106 of The Call of Crimson
“What an odd gesture,” I murmur dryly, turning my gaze to the stranger—Cillian, apparently. “Who was it?”
Those teal eyes lock onto mine, roving over me with sharp, almost unsettling interest.
“A half-cracked mercenary I found trying to extort villagers,” he says simply. “The better question is, who areyou?”
“Lady Ophelia Delencourt,” Elijah answers for me, eyes narrowing on the male. “This is Cillian, the King of The Midnight Brotherhood.”
The name has me craning my neck to stare between them.
My eyes flare wide. “The assassins?”
A low, wicked chuckle escapes Cillian. “We’re mercenaries, beautiful.”
“That sounds like a pretty way of saying you kill for coin.”
“Is that not what your soldiers do?” he asks, raising a brow.
“That’s different,” I argue stiffly.
“Is it?” he counters.
“Cillian,” Elijah interrupts before the debate can escalate. “You’re not exactly known for charity work. Why intervene?”
“Call it boredom.” Cillian shrugs, inspecting his nails.
Elijah sighs. “What do you want?”
“My normal fee is one thousand Remis,” he says lazily. “Or...” His lips curve into a wicked grin. “I’ll settle for taking Lady Ophelia to dinner.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I fight the blush.
Elijah is on his feet in an instant, stepping between us. “She’s not some whore you can barter for.”
“If I thought she was a whore, I would’ve asked to fuck her,” Cillian keeps his voice maddeningly even. “So, what do you say, beautiful?” he adds, locking eyes with me.
I stroll down the dais, meeting them both with a slow smile. Giving Cillian an appraising once over, I raise a brow.
The male is beautiful, I’ll give him that.
“Sorry, but Elijah already promised to feed me,” I say, yanking Elijah down by the front of his tunic. Our lips crash together, and he kisses me with the kind of desperation that borders on feral.
To drive the point home, I run a hand down his chest and over the front of his trousers, feeling him harden under my touch.
A low, possessive growl rumbles from Elijah's chest as he catches my wrist and pins it against his chest.
Message received.
Breaking the kiss, I whisper against his lips, “Delicious.”
“Behave,” Elijah warns with a dark look, before turning back to Cillian. “Does that answer your question?
Cillian laughs, a deep and hearty sound. “Oh yes, but it also created several more. Unfortunately, there is still the matter of payment.”
“Name something else,” Elijah demands, his tone tight.
“How about a drink,” Cillian suggests, “and a few truths?”
My brow furrows at the price he asks.
