Page 89 of As Above, So Below

Whether it be due to the aggressiveness of fae nature or his drunkenness, the violet-eyed fae rears back, throwing a punch. Screams rise, Camille begins yelling, and my innate roars in my ears.

Ryc deflects the assault with ease and grabs the fae by his throat. “I suggest you leavenow,” he growls, the threatening timbre of his voice sending chills down my spine.

All eyes in the tavern turn to Ryc and three tavern guards emerge from the crowd, one grabbing the male by the collar of his shirt. Ryc releases him into the custody of the guards, and they drag him toward the door.

As the fae is escorted out, Camille returns with the glass of wine and the tankard of ale. The rest of the patrons quickly forget the interruption and return to their conversations and laughter. It leads me to believe such instances are not uncommon.

Setting them on the bar before me, she asks, “You good? Males are bad enough, get them drunk and they’re insufferable.”

Ryc starts chuckling.

“Worse than demons,” I mutter under my breath.

“You’ve got her?” Camille asks Ryc, watching him rather warily.

He nods.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Ves,” Camille says with a departing glance. “You just shout for me or Nicholas and we’ve got you.”

“Thank you, Camille,” I grant softly, and she begins toward the other end of the bar. Turning to Ryc, I open my mouth to speak, but he speaks first.

“I notice you’re not carrying a blade.”

I blink.

Because that’s not a strange observation at all.

The realization hits me a second later. He’d moved me by my waist, where a weapon would normally be carried. Glancing around the room at a few different people, I notice many carry daggers. Eve had mentioned innate use in taverns was barred but never mentioned anything about needing a weapon.

“My innate serves me as needed,” I reply with cool pride, taking the drinks from the bar.

“And when you find yourself in situations where you can’t use it?”

Like in this tavern.

I bristle at his words.

Sliding past him with the drinks in hand, careful not to spill them, I say, “That won’t happen. But I appreciate your advice, Ryc.”

As I return to Eve and Tarron to continue enjoying the night in their company, I find myself unable to think of anything other than him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Good gods, thedamned fae has weaseled into my mind like a sickness.

A full day later and my thoughts linger on him still.

Offering a contract has only grown more appealing. But it’s hard to tell if he truly suits my needs, or if this is the urging of my demonic blood wanting to subject someone to my will.

Or take him to my bed.

Or both.

I sigh.

The strange draw between us doesn’t help matters. In fact, it makes things unnecessarily complicated. It’s not the hunting instinct, this I know for sure. I don’t know what it is and that should make me wary. Instead, I find myself intrigued, wanting to know more about this fae and why, despite not knowing him, I feel like I do.

Leaning back on my elbows, I watch the ships come into the harbor from the safety of a rooftop in the North Docks district. Such massive creations I’ve rarely seen, let alone seenwithoutthe filter of the veil. Several sit anchored along the line of piers, teams of humans and fae working to offload crates and cargo.