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Chapter forty

ATALIIA

“This is a bad idea, you realize that right?” I asked, my eyes flickering between Landers and Cin as I shoved my tarot cards into the pocket of my jacket.

Cin smirked at me. “I thought you loved bad ideas.”

“I like my bad ideas,” I said, pulling the strings on my satchel closed and throwing it over my shoulder. “I will not be held responsible for whatever dumb decisions he makes.”

Dukovich chuckled from where he leaned against the wall of Landers’s makeshift office, his arms casually crossed over her chest.

“Then do not let him make one,” Landers said, raising a brow.

“Do you have everything you need? Andrues’s healing tonics, supplies?” Cin asked as a crease formed between her brows. I could hear the worry braided into her voice as she picked at a splinter in the table, the crown on her head glowing against the dim candle light.

I pulled her hand into mine and squeezed gently. “We will be fine. I will see you again in eight hours.” She smiled softly back at me, nodding as I pulled my hand from hers and extended it to Dukovich. “Let’s get this over with.”

We landed in the center of the safe house, our boots connecting with the hard ground of the sitting room as I grabbed the ledge of the hearth to stabilize myself from the tether.

“Get ready,” I snapped. “We leave in fifteen.”

“Already am,” Dukovich said as he walked to the bar cart and began pouring himself a drink. My hand tightened around the strap of my satchel as I strode toward the stairs.

I could not believe I was back in this fucking place with him.

Anxious energy buzzed over my skin as I took the steps by two, the memory of our last time here creeping into my mind.

The way his hands felt on my skin. The way his fingers wrapped around my neck—

I shook my head.

I needed to get it together.

My shoulder pushed open the door to my room and I chucked my satchel onto the bed as I stepped into the lavatory. My fingers flicked toward the sink, filling it with cold water.

I needed a bath, a freezing one, to stop the need that had rushed my veins the moment we tethered into Ammord. But this would have to do for now. My hands dipped into it, cupping the water between them and splashing it onto my face. A heavy sigh slipped from my lips as I leaned onto the counter.

I had one job—one goal.

And it did not include fucking that useless man.

I would not get caught in the snare of this realm.

The sound of Cyloe’s paws padding into the bedchamber pulled me from my thoughts and I cleared my throat, slipping out of the bathing room and shrugging out of my jacket.

My hand dragged across the top of her head as I passed by her, her fur catching between my fingers.

“I need you to keep a close eye on us,” I said, as I shoved my hand into my satchel and pulled out two of the healing tonics.

I hoped we wouldn’t need them, but Dukovich and I seemed to have a way of finding trouble.

“We will be causing chaos tonight.” I smirked down at her and she huffed back at me.

I wished I could glimpse into her mind and see just how often she judged me. My guess—from the side-eye she was currently giving me—was frequently. I chuckled at the thought, at the attitude she had that mirrored my own. I was starting to see why Andrues loved animals so much.

My skin heated, my cheeks flushing at the mere thought of him and I groaned up at the ceiling.

This fucking place .

My fingers flexed at my sides as I strode from the room, quickly descending the stairs.

“What plan are you concocting?” Dukovich asked, eying me as I stepped from the last stair.

“I have no idea,” I answered, walking to the bar cart and pouring myself two fingers then downing it. “We just need to get into Sethros, see what’s happening, and go from there.”

He nodded, clasping his hands behind his head. “So.” He paused, a sly smile slipping over his lips. “How big of a scene is too big?”

I turned my head away from him to hide the smirk that slid onto my lips in response to his question. He loved this kind of shit just as much as I did.

“Tonight, you’re my property, my servant—if anyone asks where you are from, or if you belong to anyone,” I said, turning back to him and pulling a dagger from my belt.

“I will be anything you want me to be, love,” he purred as a smirk slid onto his lips.

My eyes rolled in his direction. “As in, I’m a witch—they will not touch me. And they’re too scared of me to touch anyone I claim as mine.”

He took a step toward me and I steeled myself against the scent of him.

“ Yours . . . I like the sound of you claiming me,” he said, taking another step closer. My fingers flexed as he slowly slipped behind me and I stayed planted where I stood.

His fingers trailed up my arms, his chest pressing against my back as I used every ounce of fucking strength not to lean into him.

My breathing grew more erratic with each breath, betraying me as his fingers caressed my collarbone, slipping up my neck to the cut of my jaw, and turning my head as his lips lowered to my ear.

“Tell me you do not feel that, feel the need that seeps from you when you are around me,” he whispered, his breath trickling down my neck.

My eyes closed as I breathed him in.

I did feel it, in every agonizing second when he was near me.

My eyes snapped open and I pushed away from his touch, the loss of his warmth both angering and grounding me. I whirled to face him as I took two rapid steps back.

“What the fuck are you trying to accomplish? I get that we are in Ammord and desires are forced to the surface of our minds, but why do you insist on vexing me everywhere we are?” I hissed, taking another step away from him.

“What do you want from me, Dukovich? To get between my legs and prove to yourself you can fuck the woman you almost killed? To make a conquest of me to feed your ego?”

“No,” he snapped, his features hardening as he shook his head.

“I want to know you, Ataliia. I try to stay away from you—it may not look like it, but I do. Every second I am not in your presence, I am counting down the moment until I can be again. You consume me. Consume every corner of my mind, and it is infuriating.” His voice was a low rumble as he took a cautious step toward me.

“Your voice, your scent, your fucking eyes—I cannot sleep without dreaming of you. I can not escape the ache, the pull I feel toward them, toward you.” Another step.

“I am not a romantic or a gentleman. I do not know how to make you swoon or how to court you, but if I must, I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness for the pain I have caused.”

I stared at him, my chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as I tried to process his words. How dare he.

How dare he.

“I hate you,” I breathed as he took one last step toward me and lifted his hand to my cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine.

“Hate is a feeling, love. And if it’s the only one you have in your heart for me, then I will take it. I will take anything you give me.” My eyes stayed locked on his, unable to pull away from the sincerity they held.

I could not let myself fall for this.

“We need to leave,” I said, turning my head away as his hand fell back to his side.

He cleared his throat, dragging a hand through his hair. “Lead the way.”

We tethered to Folkvein Street, landing in a shadowed alleyway between Rinbridge Inn and Grimehal Tavern.

It was still early and night had not fully slipped into the sky, which meant we would have time to find our targets before we needed to act.

My eyes caught on Cyloe perching on the roof of the inn as I shed my skin.

“We should split up for a few hours, gather whatever intel we can find on what target will make the most ripples, and meet in Grimehal to make a plan,” I said, lifting the hood of my cloak over my now auburn curls. “Cyloe will go with you. If you need me, she will come find me.”

Dukovich nodded as I glanced over my shoulder at him and my heart stuttered in my chest as his eyes caught mine.

“Be careful, love,” was all he said as he slipped into the shadows.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus as I slipped on to the growing crowd filling the streets.

Merchants were setting up their booths for the nightly rush as my eyes scanned the buildings lining each side of the road.

For now, I would find the most crowded establishment and listen for any whispers of events happening tonight.

I weaved through the throng of people, keeping my head down and my ears sharp.

The din of laughter, chatter, and music filled the air as I passed by tavern after tavern, each one more crowded than the last. My eyes focused on Millstrong.

It was the rowdiest of them all, and just like I had expected, it was already full to the brim with men stumbling out of it—drunk before the night had even begun.

Light from the open windows and raised voices spilled out onto the street as I slipped inside.

The musty smell of ale and sweat hit me like a wall, assaulting my senses as I made my way to the far corner.

These men were fucking disgusting.

Drinking, fornicating, and never bothering to shower off the stench of their nightly activities. The smell of them alone was enough to make me want to spill their blood.

I slid into the chair, my back facing the worn stone wall and a small window as I pulled the hood further over my face. I had never worn this skin in Sethros before, but I wouldn’t take any chances.

A group of men, clearly deep in their cups, sat at the adjacent table. Their boisterous conversation drifted over to me in slurred fragments.

“I tell ya, Lord Varek is in the city. Saw him myself, ridin’ in with his fancy entourage. The prick shut down the whole street,” one man drawled, slamming his tankard on the sticky tabletop for emphasis.