Page 35

Evander

W hen we enter the pub that night, the damp warm air within greets me.

It’s a nice change of pace from the cold, though the air is thick from all the people.

The pub is thrumming tonight. It appears many of the new arrivals are drinkers and enjoy a bit of a party.

A few of them have even come prepared with instruments and are playing music in the back corner by the bar.

Relief washes over me as I observe that Silas does not appear to be among the group of villagers.

There are a few young women that seem to catch sight of us as we enter, and I vaguely recognize them as girls from the village we rescued.

Quinn tends to draw attention when he walks into a room.

He’s only a few inches taller than me, but that puts him around six foot three and he is all muscle.

Bulging biceps stick out from the tunic that clings tight to his body.

His shoulder-length ebony hair is pulled partially into a knot, thin pieces framing his face and others falling about his shoulders.

His eyes gleam a rich honey color in the middle, rimmed with bright green.

Apparently, all that masculine energy is attractive to some women , I think.

Though, honestly, I hope one of them approaches Quinn and that maybe tonight he’ll take up the offer.

At times he gets so encompassed in his work, so stuck on the missions and his purpose, that he forgets to enjoy himself.

He can be quite...rigid. It’s not like he’s celibate or anything, but he stays quiet about it.

He never talks to me much about any of them.

Maybe if he finds someone tonight, spends some quality time with a woman, it will get him off my back.

I start toward the bar to grab drinks as Quinn filters through the others to find us a space to sit.

Taking the mugs from the barmaid, I weave my way toward the front of the pub, to a table by the windows, frowning as I notice it’s the same table —the one we had the last time we were all here, and my mind immediately shifts to Bria.

Pushing a frothing mug of ale toward Quinn, I drop heavily into the seat across from him.

The group of women from the village are still turned toward us, I notice.

One of them appears to be eyeing me from across the room so I lock eyes with her and tilt my head cordially, raising the glass to my lips in greeting.

The cool foam hits them, and I watch a giggle spread between the young ladies.

They must be only nineteen or twenty and all three are pretty, though there’s nothing special about them.

Nothing noticeable or memorable. No flames of sapphire and cobalt raging in their eyes, no flowing locks of precious metal or glint of otherworldly energy hiding beneath their skin.

Would approaching one of them help to get my mind off Bria?

To move on from the brooding and find someone to heal the pain I feel every time I think of her?

Even the idea of it brings a scowl to my face.

I don’t want anyone but her. I don’t care about the pain it causes, either.

I’ll suffer every day if it means being with her.

Quinn catches sight of the scowl and raises a brow. “Are you upset that a group of women are ogling you? Doesn’t seem like something to be concerned about, in my opinion.”

I let out a short laugh. “I’m not sure it’s me they are eyeing.”

At that, Quinn relaxes back in the chair and kicks his legs out. He pulls the strands of his hair back from his face before crossing his arms comfortably over his chest.

“Might the almighty warrior be looking for a companion tonight?” I tease, the corner of my lip pulling up into a smirk.

But a fierce glare meets me, narrowed eyes that glint with humor. Just barely.

“We have a day and a half travel to the Forsaken Woods, then gods know how long we will spend there and on the travel to Castle Eccleston. I think we should both be looking for a companion before what lies ahead of us.” He pauses. “Might be the last time, Ev.”

I shrug. I can’t deny that he has a point, and when I look up, two of the women have pulled away from their group and are sauntering toward us.

They both sport mousy brown hair, one with long curls, the other with an elaborate twist along the back of her neck.

They wear common dresses, tight bodices tipped with lace, breasts swelling above them and skirts billowing below.

Taking another swig of the drink, I glance toward Quinn. “Here comes your companion now. Take your pick. Or better yet, take them both and leave me the hell out of it,” I say, trailing off as the women sidle up to the table.

The curly-haired one is all over Quinn. She giggles like a young schoolgirl and eats up all of his stories of patrols as she sits next to him, perched on the edge of her chair, ready to climb on top of him at a moment’s notice.

The other decides it’s a good idea to take the seat next to me, to my dismay.

I don’t know if she’s there because she finds me attractive or if she’s there because her friend wanted to approach Quinn, but either way, her presence is irritating.

Twisty-hair coos and touches her face while Quinn speaks, and she flicks her eyes to me often, but I pay her no mind.

I’m not trying to be rude to the girl, but she has nothing of interest to say.

Mostly, she nods in agreement with her friend.

I’m positive the curly-haired girl is named Rosalind, but I stop paying much attention to the one next to me.

Delilah maybe? It doesn’t matter what her name is. I don’t intend to remember it anyway.

My thoughts drift from the conversation of the group, not that there’s much of note being said.

Mostly I’m watching Rosalind throw herself on the stoic Quinn, who is pleasant to her, though I can see a glint in those hazel eyes.

He’ll be leaving with her tonight, and I catch myself smiling at the thought of it.

At least he will be tolerable tomorrow if he spends his night with dear, sweet Rosalind.

A hand on my knee snaps me out of the thought.

I look down to see twisty-hair’s hand, the dimwitted Delilah or whatever the fuck her name is.

Her hand is on my knee and creeping upward.

She gazes at me from beneath lowered lashes, batting them in a flirtatious gesture. This girl has some gall , I think.

I level my stare on her. Her eyes are a light brown, the color of creamed coffee.

She isn’t terrible to look at. No, this girl is pretty enough even if she has the conversation skills of a brick fucking wall.

But she doesn’t interest me in the least. I want fire and flames. I want pain and agony. I want Bria.

Eyes locked, the girl begins to creep her fingers up my thigh, sliding her hand gracefully along the inner seam of my trousers.

I’m in utter shock, fairly positive I’ve done nothing to indicate any interest in her, but she’s proving now that she is quite interested in me.

I’m about to say so to the girl, to try and let her down easy, when I feel a prickling along the back of my neck.

Pins and needles creep up my spine and my eyes shoot to the door.

Just inside the threshold is Bria. And I can tell from where she stands, she is getting an eyeful of my situation. And the hand along the inside of my thigh.

I snag her gaze and the blue fire smoldering inside.

She purses her lips and shoves her way toward the bar.

Ash is behind her, smirking at me. Fuck .

I jump up out of the seat, shaking the girl’s hand from my leg.

She lets out a cry in protest at the harshness of it, but I pay her no mind.

The girl can go find someone else’s leg to fondle, some other idiot to spend her night with.

Bria had seen the girl and likely assumed what was happening. I can’t blame her for that, but I want to explain that it wasn’t what she thinks. As I round a group of people, they come into view —Bria and Ash—huddled in the corner together, drinks in hand.

She’s leaning against the wall behind her, and Ash is stuck to her side.

Her hair is down, not in the normal braid that she wears regularly around the camp.

It falls in luxurious waves over her shoulders, glittering strands of gold.

It always has those waves to it when she takes it out of her braid, just another detail about this girl I shouldn’t be so aware of.

She flicks her cobalt eyes in my direction and instantly my stomach tightens at her beauty.

My body ignites more in one angry glance from her than anything that twit of a girl at the table could do—including sliding her hand up my thigh.

Her lips straighten as she watches me, holding my stare.

There’s something there, something in her face that she’s trying to hide with the flat look she throws my way.

I can’t quite place it, but it feels a lot like sadness.

And that’s the last thing I want to be responsible for when it comes to her.

“Bria, I—” I start, but Ash cuts me off before I can get the words past my lips. Just my luck to fall for a girl with a bulldog for a best friend.

“Oh, Ev, you looked busy over there. I hope you didn’t leave that girl hanging just because we waltzed in,” she croons, but the look on her face is sinister and her green eyes glint with menace. “She looked like she had her hands full,” she finishes, her words biting.

Heat rises into my face, burning with her remarks. I’m embarrassed and ashamed that Bria saw what that girl was doing, that had she walked in a moment later, she would have seen a very different picture.

“I have no interest in that girl,” I throw back at Ash, noticing the entire time that Bria’s eyes have not left me.

Bria responds, quiet but firm. “Ev, you have nothing to explain to either of us. Just go enjoy yourself.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

I know I should listen to her and leave, to allow the women to have a night of peace.

But I can’t tear my gaze away from hers.

I want to pull her outside, away from the reaches of Ash’s anger, and explain everything to her.

To wipe the sadness from her and get back that look of desire that was all-consuming when I kissed her.

But as I open my mouth to speak, her gaze finally leaves mine. She glimpses something behind me, and her eyes brighten, her face softening. She somehow becomes more beautiful and radiant than she already is.

I turn to see what could have caused the shift in her and my breath stalls in my chest.