Page 6 of Quicksilver
“Hedid.” Carrion drained his ale. When he set his empty glass down, his charming smile had returned. “Now that you're here, you might as well join me for a drink. No hard feelings and all that.”
It was amazing how quickly Carrion could flit from one emotion to another. Also impressive was his ability to delude himself completely and utterly whenever it suited him. “I am not drinking with you. It makes no difference if Hayden deserved what you did to him. He probably pulled the knife on you because he was trying to get his mask back. He wouldn't have needed to do that if you hadn't encouraged him to gamble!”
“You like whiskey, right? Double sound good?” He was getting to his feet.
“Carrion! I amnotdrinking with you!”
The handsome snake attempted to slide an arm around my waist, but I'd dealt with predators far quicker than him. Ducking back, I put three feet of space between us, hands itching to move to my knives—the ones Hayden hadn’t ‘borrowed’—but I'd given Brynn my word there'd be no fighting. Carrion's eyes traveled down my body, his smile broadening when they skimmed over my hips, and the memory of histongueskimming over my hipsslammed into me out of nowhere, drawing a wave of heat to my cheeks.
“You're pretty when you blush, y'know.” The gods-cursed thief didn't miss a thing. “I tell you what. Sit down and have a drink with me, and I'll give you Hayden's mask.”
“No deal.”
“No deal?” He seemed genuinely surprised.
“Enduring fifteen minutes at a table with you is worth more than a ratty mask, you vulture.”
“Who said anything about fifteen minutes? You know I like to take my time when I'm enjoying myself.”
Holy martyrs. I did my level best to block the other memories that were trying to shove their way to the forefront of my mind. Carrion wanted his off-the-cuff comment to remind me of how long he spent working with his tongue between my thighs. He wanted me to recall just how long he held back his own pleasure—like it was his gods-cursedjob—while he teased out mine. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
“One drink. Fifteen minutes. And I want the chits back that you took from him, too. Plus another five on top for the inconvenience of having to breathe the same air as you.”
Carrion arched an eyebrow, considering me. I already knew I wouldn't like what was about to come out of his mouth. “Saeris, if I knew I couldbuyyourtime, I'd be bankrupt, and you would be a very rich woman. You'd have spent the past three months on your back, begging for me to ride you harder, and—”
“One more word and I'll relieve you of your fucking balls, thief,” I snarled.
What he lacked in manners, Carrion Swift made up for in common sense. He knew when he was about to cross a line that would cost blood touncross. His hair glinted red, then gold, then deepest, richest brown as he held his hands in the air, bowing his head in surrender. “All right, all right. The scarf, the chits,and five extra because you're greedy. Sit. Please. I'll get you that drink.” He gestured to his table as if he intended for me to squeeze in between him and his cronies, but there were things I would do for my brother and a clean glass of water and things I would not. I picked out an empty booth three tables away and went and sat there instead.
I was going to kill Hayden. Kill him dead. What was he playing at? He’d tried tostabCarrion? The boy was only three and a half years younger than me but he acted like he was still waiting for his balls to drop. At some point, he was going to have to stop acting so recklessly and start considering the consequences of his actions. Even as I thought this to myself, Elroy's words echoed around inside my head, shockingly similar to my own.
'I can’t even begin to fathom what you were thinking. Do you know what kind of doom you’ve brought down on our heads?'
“Here.” Carrion set a glass of amber liquid down in front of me; the damn thing was almost full to the brim.
“That is not one drink.”
“It's in one glass,” he countered. “Therefore, it's one drink.”
I'd be staggering back to The Mirage if I drank all of that. I'd fall off the roof and break my neck trying to get back into the attic. Still, I picked up the glass and swallowed a healthy mouthful. I wouldn’t make it through this if I wasn't a little buzzed. The whiskey burned all the way down my throat and set a fire in my stomach, but I refused to react. The very last thing I needed was Carrion Swift telling everyone who'd listen that I couldn't handle my liquor.
“Well?” I demanded. “What do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want? Your company, of course.”
I knew a liar when I saw one, and the man sitting opposite me was a seasoned professional. “Spit it out, Carrion. You wouldn't have bullied me into staying if you weren't trying to work some kind of angle.”
“Can I not just be enamored by your beauty? Can I not just want to sit and listen to the angelic tone of your voice?”
“I'm not beautiful. I'm filthy, and I'm tired, and my voice is full of sarcasm and annoyance, so let's just get on with this, shall we?”
Carrion huffed a silent breath of laughter. He raised his own (considerably smaller) glass of whiskey to his lips and took a sip. “You were more fun three months ago, you know that? You're so cruel. I haven't stopped thinking about you.”
“Oh, please. How many women have you slept with since then?”
He narrowed his eyes, looking confused. “What's that got to do with anything?”
This was growing tedious. Shoving the glass toward him, I made to get up.
