When would enough be enough?
The question played in my brain over and over. When would enough be enough? When would enough be enough? When? The answer wasn’t simple as it could’ve been when my eyes drifted to Therion at the midday meal.
Despite bending his head over his bowl of food, Therion’s dark five-o’-clock shadow remained visible. Meanwhile, I wondered if he saw the lushness of his eyes as I did while staring at his reflection. The corner of his lips tugged into a smile.
Gah! a voice chimed inside my head. He said one week, Mercy—one week.
Yet, I was on a wooden bench, already agonizing about my survival for the next seven days. And why was I even dwelling over him? The point of space was to get time to ourselves to think clearly.
Precisely, the voice in my mind piped, and I turned to face the people at my table. Across from me, Calix Acoff inhaled his porridge, the bowl sloshing to each side with lathery broth. Loud slurping escaped his arched lips, blending with the pounding against the wood table.
Whatever happened to manners? played in my mind. And again. Manners. And finally, once more. Manners.
My eyes darted to Therion’s table. Therion lightly sipped the porridge from a spoon. And not just any spoon. A silver spoon from Madame Aeress.
Like that, I found the courage not to dwell over him for more than a brief mental remark. Bastard. That could last a few days before blowing over. Gossiping about him could help me survive the seven days.
“What if one of us married well?” The velvetiness of a soprano voice belonged to Scarlet, sitting next to Calix when my eyes landed on her. With a nudge, her piping hot bowl of porridge shifted forward. Her sienna-hued locks danced against the light with an auburn halo from the sunlight pouring through the ceiling.
“More like seduce the well-off,” I shot back. “Even getting a noble, a royal, or a bourgeois skin-to-skin with us is a long shot.”
Despite the frown Scarlet’s lips formed into, the gears in her dark-green eyes turned and turned and turned. Having known her just as long as Therion, I could read Scarlet like the back of my hand. Something was racing through her brain. However, I couldn’t pinpoint what that something was exactly. Then, Scarlet met my eyes and inquired, “Don’t you have a dowry, CyCy?”
The blood in my veins seemed to halt, and my breath bottled up in my throat like a stone. My eyes drifted to Calix, whose deep, sea-blue irises were like the tides Nyra mentioned in stories about coming to the Graewolira, our continent. And for a second, I swear, his voice, his lilting voice of cyan, ran through my brain: Do you want to, or should I?
I began to tremble. How–why was this happening? It wasn’t like I deserved any of this, and I tried to be as good a person as possible. What had I done to deserve insanity in addition to my over-the-top carnal cravings?
What had I done to deserve any of the misfortune that occurred in my life?
When his voice left my head, I blinked and sucked on my lips. Gods, he was so alluring but, simultaneously, so pure of heart (minus the male prostitute part). Part of me wanted to explore the broad white canvas that was his skin. But something felt so wrong about it at the same time. Dappled sunlight made parts of his blond hair darker, while other parts were a hue of dirty blond. Meanwhile, his wavy locks fell to his chin.
But I couldn’t have Calix. I couldn’t burden him with my demons. He deserved better than me, better than someone who would discard him when he couldn’t satiate my sexual aggression anymore. And worse, what if he couldn’t accept me?
Then he doesn’t deserve you, a voice responded inside my head—a satiny voice. As much as I wanted to believe in such advice, as much as I wanted to tell Calix that I struggled with an addiction, a word Nyra would use, to sex, losing him would be much worse; thus, I would never tell him. I wouldn't tell him even if it were the world's end.
So, I did my best to keep my composure around him. Even if it meant fantasies of him and I wove together like a tapestry in my head. Even if it meant blindfolding myself when indulging my clients. Even if my core pounded and ached to explore him.
After prying my eyes away from Calix, I focused my sights on Scarlet. Her fleshy lower lip jutted past her thin upper lip, casting dull shadows over her narrow chin with a circular dimple.
Her dusty red bangs concealed her eyebrows as they parted to each side from the top of her head. Meanwhile, a hoydenishly-styled bob hugged the sides of her head and the back. And to top it off, she licked her lips as our eyes met.
A mental fog engulfed my brain, and I winked before I could stop myself from ruining things with Scarlet. As always, forces beyond my limits of fathoming decided against my will that I would have this woman no matter the cost. But even worse...Scarlet winked back at me.
She fucking winked back.
Damn this addiction! I cursed mentally and groaned in my head. This perdition I inhabited never ended. It never ended. However, when my core began throbbing just by looking at her and the devilish flames in her eyes, I realized this could be a silver lining. After all, we both were fucked up.
“What’s going on?” The gentle noise I somehow had drowned out came back with Calix’s lilting voice, and it was out loud this time, not in my head. However, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, for I busied myself collecting details about Scarlet: the way flames danced in her eyes, the way she grinned at me, the way her neck was thick with curves on both sides.
It wasn’t one’s everyday appearance, but she was worth a moment. She was worth every moment. So, I mouthed to her, Follow me, before rising from the bench to my feet and clearing my throat.
“I think I’m going to visit Jaynia today,” I lied. Well, lying was a strong word. It was true. I had plans to visit Jaynia this day. Just not now. But if it led Calix’s mind to ease about me, no matter how small or how big the amount, I could breathe.
As I brushed off my corset's latticework, Scarlet stood diagonal from me. She smoothed the fabric of her layered skirt out while training on me with a sly grin—a grin that screamed, I’m in control!
“I’ll lead Mercy out,” Scarlet said with a wink in my direction. Her lips parted to show her alabaster teeth. As I made my way into the aisle toward her, Scarlet held her out to me. “Shall we?”
I matched her come-hither smile. “We shall,” I breathed, and our fingers interlocked, the warmth of her palm seeping against mine. For a moment, our stares became restless, deepening despite the sequential twitching.
Ruby, diagonal from Calix, rose from the bench. Her crimson brow slanted as she squinted as if she could see through us. “You two aren’t—”
As Ruby paused for a moment, glancing in both directions, my mind supplied in question, Doing the devil’s tango? At the query, I snickered slightly. “Even if we are, you won’t rat us out, will you?” My face turned cold as a stone and just as serious.
“No,” Ruby replied, her cheeks flushed as white as snow. “You can trust me. I wouldn’t sell you out for my own gain.”
“Good,” Scarlet piped cheerfully as her hollow jaw would allow her to. But, soon, her voice turned as cold as night. “Now, sit down, and don’t follow us.” Her fair face brightened a little under the rays of sunlight as she looked my way and bobbed her head as if to say, Let’s go.
All I could think was, Damn. And I twisted my foot to the side. “Lead the way,” I whispered.
“As you wish.”
And just like magic, the wind engulfed us in a swirling cloud of gray. When the pall vanished into the atmosphere, Scarlet and I stood in the shade of a hallway, in silence, facing one another. Not even a mouse squeaked or skittered away. But the hush was momentary.
After a moment, she unlaced her fingers from the spaces between my fingers, and both palms seeped against my waist with a swelling warmth. Her long fingers curled around my back, and with a thud, I was against the cold stones of the hallway wall. Finally, our lips fell in line. Together. Two souls who had the same hunger to be touched, to feel release.
The act was dangerous if we were caught—only if we got caught. But there was a thrill in it: the adrenaline rushing through my veins, my heart whimpering against my chest, and the sizzling electricity on my skin as I stroked every part of her neck. This dragged a deep sound from her chest.
The magic lingering in our souls hung by a thread. Magic rushed through our veins, filling our echoing heartbeats with adrenaline, and the rhythm quickened. But we didn’t slow down. No, we kept breathing each in.
Hotly.
Hungrily.
As Scarlet put a slight distance between our lips, electricity sizzling against my flesh, I gasped. Gods, I thought with a heaving chest. Scarlet was a good kisser. A really good one. Maybe she could be more than a one-time escape.
And gah! I needed to taste her lips again.
Before she could turn away, I reached for her cheeks, inches above me, pulling myself onto my toes to meet her lips. They were wet from our last time, but simultaneously, they were soft, and I wanted to get lost in them forever … if only time would permit me to do such a thing.
Alas, time was a thief—a fucking thief. As quickly as the kiss began, Scarlet broke away, gasping for air when footsteps sounded from the back of the hallway. Faint syllables carried to my ears.
“Madame Aeresssssss.” The snaky-green notes grew louder and louder, closer and closer as if riding the atmosphere. The familiarity of it became too much to bear; it was as if mental bricks pressed down on me, trying to crush me with the memories.
When I blinked, everything became dark and, for a moment, silent, too, if you didn’t count the loud thoughts echoing around me. Stop. Stop. Stop. After a second, my senses came alive, but it wasn’t the hallway I was in.
Traces of spice and eucalyptus gathered around my nostrils, something I couldn’t attribute to even one spot in the brothel. Instead, various scents usually meshed into something overwhelming, so foul that no name could describe it unless Parfum du Désespoir du Bordel (basically Parfum of Brothel Despair) was an actual scent.
However, I doubt alchemists could create an official scent matching the brothel. Madame Aeress wouldn’t allow anyone who wasn’t looking for sex or in dire need of a job in the brothel. Perhaps with a bribe for some former clients. But alchemists, no. Never.
Suddenly, alabaster skin full of faint freckles pressed against my soul. Wide cheek panels pushed out, wider and wider, giving way to a pearly-toothed, half-moon smile and a narrow chin. What once had been dashing now were piercing hazel eyes, cutting through my thoughts and washing me free of any future—brainwashing seduction at its finest.
Since I was thirteen, he haunted me in my sleep, defiling me all over again. All. Over. Again. And if he had come to terrorize me in the daytime, I could no longer be sure he was dead.
The flames that once ate away at his flesh seemed to vanish. The ropes that once bound the five feet and five inches of flesh and bones came undone. And the skies darkened into a storm.
He was alive.
Dubhán. Fucking. Laird.
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