Page 73 of Rook of Ruin
I lift my chin and rip my eyes away from him. It seems to settle everyone when I nudge Sal forward. “I lost.” I look over to Simon, who doesn’t smile but continues to watch me carefully.
We get closer to the castle but find that Ossian is gone. Relief fills me.
I hate that man.
My chest burns. I want to rip my skin off, tear my soul out. I rub the mark over my heart. What I fuckingneedis to get her haunting words out of my mind.
Chairs scrape, and loud, fast music begins playing, which sets my mind on edge. The seedy dancehall, Soverns,is thick and heady with the lust of those who pay for fast love. Women wearing only dark lingerie walk out onto a stage and begin dancing, slowly undressing before the mass of men who shout and touch without permission.
The short redhead at my side pushes a drunk Bethalian warrior out of the way. “Do you think Paul will want a summer or a fall wedding?” Zane asks while shoving another man out of our way. I glance at him, remaining silent because I absolutely do not want to talk about his wedding in the dance hall. “Yeah, I agree, summer. Even though the man knows I burn easily in the sun.”
Our shiny boots stick to the stodgy floor as we turn towards the long and wooden bar. A scantily clad woman snorts a line ofcauch off a man’s dick. The drug is absolutely addictive, after one hit, the body craves it. She maneuvers her body and grins madly before taking him in her hand. This place is a cesspool.
“Just one itty-bitty, teeny-tiny scuffle?” Zane pleads, ink smoke pouring from his nostrils. He scans the room for threats, but there aren’t any, not any real threats. “We have ample time.”
“No.” I grunt, but truthfully, I want fucking blood. It would be too easy to sate the monster living within me—the monster that appeared once again after I fought those demons in Wesson. A sailor stumbles by us, spice sloshing down his coat. In his hand is a paper for bidding on women. My brace glows, and power washes over me. Zane pulls out his stupid fucking harpy knife, but when I make no move to kill the sailor, he tips his head back in annoyance, pouting like a child.
Soverns reminds me of the damn tavern in Marrith, where Zane and Tess took Orlaith to celebrate her two-year mark as a Rook. It was an awful place, one Zane and Tess knew was on our list to shut down. They wanted to show off Orlaith’s ability to adapt in a rough area—even though our queen mandated O be under strict supervision due to her relationship to the crown and the vast power she wields—O knew it. At least she knew she wasn’t to be outside of the castle walls, but the reckless woman went out anyway. When Paul and I discovered she had left with Zane and Tess, we went after them—afterher. We found Zane wielding a fucking harpy talon that he’d converted into a knife and Tess “procuring” a bottle of fucking fae wine.
Damn it, I can only imagine the chaos O intended that night.
The infuriating woman is throwing daggers with a group of rough sailors, who are less than enthusiastic about losing, especially since she is bragging—as she should because she is marvelous, beautifully lethal as usual. Thunderous mercy, her triumphant smile fucking makes my chest swell with pride, but she isn’t paying attention. One of the sailors dares to touch her,to grab her arm. Blazing fire licks through my veins as if I can breathe it, wield it.
His touch on her body is a death sentence.
The world around me fades, and I find myself lifting the sailor off the floor by his neck. He screams as the heat from my fingers sears into his flesh, and I feel the snap of his vertebrae. Tossing him to the floor, an animalistic growl threatens to come out—it takes sheer willpower, control, to force it back down. A brawl is threatening to break out before I whip around to face the sailors; they see their death in my eyes and back away, but it’s too late. They drop to their knees as I weave my web through their minds. Their pain and fear is intense—blood pours out of their hideous visages, and I feel their minds break. Their deaths are satisfying.
Not one patron bats an eye. Zane casually moves next to Tess, who is sitting at a nearby table, now hugging the fae wine to her chest and grinning like a deranged cat. They watch Orlaith scowl deeply as the assholes place bets to see who will win the fight between us. Paul scowls just as deeply as O, only he is readying himself to step in to stop us. He really doesn’t understand that I am completely insane over the woman. I would never allow anyone to speak to her the way I do. Zane understands though. He knows what I’ve done to Rooks who dare to disrespect her. He’s had to pull me off Rooks who make comments about her I don’t like. She has no idea, no fucking clue, I would give anything just to hear her speak my name. I will never forget her gorgeous face—full of fury—as she puts away the knife she was about to stab the sailor with and tries to stare me down. It’s fucking cute. She is so angry—how dare I spoil her fun.
“You ass. Did you not think I could take him?” She narrows her large hazel eyes, and she bites her lush bottomlip to suppress a smile, trying not to laugh at my obvious disapproval.
I snort. “You should be thanking me. What I saw was your inability to move fast against a threat.”
“You have no idea how I move.” She smirks, and a little blush falls on her lovely face. “And I’ll thank you when you’ve earned it.”
I place my arm on the dark wooden wall behind her, precariously close to her face, and lean down. Her sweet scent of jasmine surrounds me. What I wouldn’t give to weave my hand through her hair and kiss her. “I know everything about you. I’ve more than earned your thanks.” Fuck, I sound like a cad.
She flicks me on the nose, and I stumble back, surprised. Orlaith chuckles. “I guess you don’t know everything—I do move fast against a threat.” She slides her eyes up and down my body as if I am found wanting, like I am only the lowly Spider. “Thank you, Ossian, for allowing me to teach you yet another lesson.”
Damn woman has no idea how much I make myself hate her. It’s the only way to hold myself together around her. She is the fucking air I breathe, and she will never know. Never know me.
My mouth forms a cruel smile. “My lady, there is nothing you could teach me. You’re lucky it’s Paul and I who found you.” I tilt my head slightly and take a menacing step forward. My voice drops an octave, and I practically whisper, “If you were a real Rook, this place would not be entertaining. Did you even learn anything from the sailors?”
Orlaith blinks at me, the realization hitting her hard.
“The sailors you were carelessly playing a game with have ties to a man who traffics women and children.”
She takes a step back, flattening her body against the wall, her eyes dodging mine and going to the sailor who is dead on the floor.
“That’s right, O. You have no idea what happens outside of the castle walls, but you do know what would happen to Zane and Tess if someone found out they snuck you out. If you killed that sailor, you would have had to report it. You put our friends’ lives at risk. So go back to the barracks, and keep pretending you’re a real Rook.”
I watch her face become a mixture of anger, fear, and hurt. Good.
“You’re jealous.” She pushes past me, and I notice how her black pants cup her ass perfectly.
That he touched you? Yes. Fuck, I’m even jealous of the clothes you wear.“In your dreams, my lady.”
“You’re only in my nightmares,” Orlaith yells back to me, tossing her golden-brown hair over her shoulder.
