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He’s playing with me.
And I love it.
A new verse from Silas rises like a banshee call. "Oh the wench was wild, with hips so wide, she stole me coinandmy soul inside—"
Elias leans slightly, his lips ghosting near my ear. He doesn’t speak out loud, but the bond hums like a wire struck deep.
"Keep drinking, little sin. The more relaxed you are, the easier it’ll be to get you upstairs without anyone noticing."
I glare at him. He grins. Barely. Just enough that I want to throw my tankard at his stupid face and kiss him at the same time.
"You’re going to break me,"I shoot back through the bond, clenching my thighs around his wrist.
His chuckle brushes across my skin like silk dipped in sin.
"You’re already broken. You just haven’t let me put you back together yet."
I swear, the whole tavern could be burning down around us and I wouldn’t notice. I shift, and his fingers slide higher. Not enough. Just enough. My pulse stutters.
Across the table, Silas raises his mug like a toast. “To thebest alein the realm and theworstaudience I’ve ever sung for!”
Elias clinks his mug to mine, all fake solemnity. Then, to me alone:"One more drink, and I’ll make good on every filthy thing I’ve promised you."
I like him like this.
There’s a stillness to Elias that rarely surfaces—like the tides stilled just before the storm breaks. He’s not teasing. Not hiding behind sarcasm or bad jokes or the kind of smirk he wears like armor. He’shere, fully. Assertive. Focused. And gods help me, I want him more like this than anything else. It's rare. Beautiful. A glimpse of the man behind the mask he doesn’t even admit to wearing.
Silas leans across the table, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Round two? Or are we cutting you off, lovebirds?”
Elias doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t look at him. “Yeah, bring more. Stronger if they’ve got it.”
That throws Silas for a loop. He blinks, eyes narrowing in that calculating way of his, but Elias plays it cool—lazily tilting his tankard back like he hasn’t just dismissed Silas with the casual precision of a blade to the ribs. Silas snorts, mutters something about lightweights, and gets up.
Now it’s just us.
The bond between us pulses like a second heartbeat, tugging me closer to him even as he stays exactly where he is. His fingers are back on my thigh, heavier now. He’s warm, solid, confident—and then—
Then he opens his mouth.
“I mean, if youwantedto take me upstairs, I wouldn’t stop you,” he says, voice low, but too loud to be anything but intentional. “Or hell, we could just do it right here under the table. I'm flexible.”
My jaw drops.
“What?” I ask, blinking at him. Because there’s no way I heard that right.
Elias flashes a grin. “C’mon, you’ve been undressing me with your eyes all night. I’m just trying to make your dreams come true, Luna. Generous, aren’t I?”
Oh no.
“Oh no,” I repeat, setting my tankard down before I throw it at his pretty, idiotic head. “You were doingso well.”
“What?” He leans back in the chair, arms crossed like he’s proud of himself. “I thought you liked it when I said stupid shit. You keep letting me sleep in your bed, so I figured I’d upgrade the performance.”
“Upgrade?” I echo, incredulous.
“To deluxe,” he confirms, waggling his eyebrows. “With optional tongue work and a very flexible spine.”
I groan, slumping against the table. “You’re actuallyworsewhen you try to be smooth.”