Page 74 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kat

Varin was made from the Old Gods’ anger.

Others from their hunger, gluttony and lust. For the Alder Kings were many.

Only Serus and Acara were made from their devotion to the creatures they created.

They knew no greed or hunger for power. Only protection of that endless night and all who dwelled within it.

Serus to guard and Acara to see the path ahead.

However, in the end, even the great queen beneath lost her way in that darkness.

Compendium of the Lost, 1536

‘Are sure you did it right? She looks the same to me,’ Alma frowned, her skin gleaming from the oil she’d rubbed into it. A jangle coming from the bracelets William had put around her wrists to cover her scars.

‘It’s working,’ Thean added irritably in the alcove where we all hid. A thin curtain dividing us from the ruckus beyond.

I noted Thean in their masculine form had simply unbuttoned their shirt. The only part of them exposed being a strip of their lean muscular chest. Lucky for some.

I tried not to touch any of the walls, considering the lack of fabric covering me. The smell of pleasure smoke in the air tangling with the odour of sweat and ale.

A brothel. What a wondrous idea.

A sweetness clung to my lips from the smoke in the air. My skin was flushed, a heat seeming to simmer close to the surface that had nothing to do with my magic.

‘I didn’t know pleasure smoke was this sickeningly sweet.’ I rubbed my arms. Finding myself unable to stand still.

Alma turned, her sharp gaze missing not a moment of my discomfort before she looked at the voyav. ‘Didn’t you weave a protection into the glamour?’

Thean seemed genuinely confused by the idea. ‘Now why on earth would I do that?’

Alma pulled back, appalled. ‘To be helpful?’

Thean had the audacity to laugh softly, which only made her lips peel back, green eyes practically glowing in the dim light as another peel of drunken laughter moved past our hiding place.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I lied. Pulling at the measly fabric that was supposed to cover my breasts. ‘What will you two do?’

Thean slapped my hand away with irritation. ‘Stop fidgeting. You’re supposed to want the thing off. I’m certain our beautiful Alma can scent anything valuable that may be up here while we wait.’

That led to the problem at hand. Thean might be able to find something Verr but they couldn’t open it. The same for Alma, and nothing would look more suspicious than all three of us wandering through a brothel.

But the thought of leaving Alma up here alone to deal with any consequences didn’t sit well with me.

‘It’ll be dangerous,’ I said, chewing on my lip, my flame churning in annoyance inside of me. Clearly not liking my current predicament.

She rolled her eyes, her own poor excuse for a lace slip not bothering her in the least. ‘You’re the last person that should be lecturing anyone on danger .’

‘Fine,’ I huffed out. Knowing she was right. ‘I didn’t anticipate it being so busy .’

Why were so many people here?

‘You can unbuckle someone’s trousers any time of day, darling,’ Thean taunted. ‘Who knew you were such a prude. Poor Emrys.’

That slight earned the voyav an elbow in the ribs from Alma.

‘Go,’ she commanded me softly. ‘Leave me to deal with this miscreant.’

I suddenly felt ill. This was a wretched and foolish idea. My most idiotic to date. I wrung my hands, hoping Gideon had picked up his bloody communication stone. If not, I was certain William had suffered heart failure from the stress of our departure.

I sucked in another breath of the sweet smoke, that worry in my chest only tightening before I forced myself beyond the thin dingy curtain—

Only to almost be trampled by three drunk men staggering past. Two topless girls with rouge smeared all over their breasts from kisses laughed as they followed, green bottles of ale in their hands splashing onto the carpet.

The grimy corridor was made no better by the flickering of the lamps on the dark green walls. The carpet was stained beneath my feet, making me grateful I’d won the battle with Thean to keep my shoes.

A room opened up before me, circular and filled with too many people. Black paint smeared across the arched windows. Dark and dingy, as if every patron had an allergy to light.

The chant from the summoners seated at jewel-decorated tables with their misty orbs filled with trapped souls made a shudder roll through me.

Dark summoning for entertainment, speaking to souls – or being distracted by them to have your pockets picked.

Unfortunately, the glamour wouldn’t hide my revulsion.

It also felt like painful pinching against my skin, as if it was too tight.

The brothel was in the centre of the Barton lands. The small town still thriving from what I glimpsed out of the filthy window before Thean had pinched me and forced me to pay attention.

A town with veins of canals running through it, long narrow boats moored on the murky waters. The streets were bustling with night markets, so many beings unaware of what lingered here. What could linger beneath this building, and if it did … I didn’t want to think of what we would find.

I passed booths with worn curtains closed, devious laughter within. I made sure to keep my eyes on the plush blood-red carpet, avoiding the wet patches. Half-naked women and men lounged on chaises with pipes, blowing thick smoke into the already cloying air.

The madness of it all made me move more quickly down another dark panelled hallway, ignoring the drunken mirth and piano music as I passed another archway that led into what appeared to be a card room, keeping close to the long empty bookcases, holding nothing but discarded drinks now.

Nothing caught my attention. The wishing stone around my neck silent.

I couldn’t see any passageways, or any way down to where a door to any lower chamber could be located. Mostly I couldn’t see through the smoke that curled like fog before me.

It was the bastard voyav’s fault for not warning me. Or perhaps it was my own for my impatience to try to solve everything myself once again.

Too many people, too much noise. Laughter and music. Naked bodies mixed with partially dressed or fully clothed spectators. A strange sordid mix of formality and depravity.

Fumes clung to my lips, an aphrodisiac to heighten pleasure. Something to make the working girls’ and boys’ jobs easier. Considering most mortals could barely last when dosed with the stuff. How they reclined in low chairs in a daze, pockets probably empty.

I ran my hands nervously over my skirts, or tried to. The thin silk did little but remind me of how much of me was on display, how sheer the fabric was in the barest light. Another deep breath threatened to pop the tiny pearl buttons stopping my breasts from being exposed.

I felt clumsy and ridiculous. Yet as I pulled in another lungful of that smoke, delicious pleasure rippled though me. But not for anything in this room.

Fucking beautiful. The dark tone of Emrys’s words seemed to brush against my oversensitive skin. Making me turn like a madwoman, anticipating him standing behind me.

He wasn’t.

Ancestors above. Maybe I’d breathed in too much. Then all I could think about was Emrys’s hands, the rough tightness of them on my hips. How they’d dragged up my thighs. The brush of his lips up the column of my throat.

I pressed my hand to my breastbone, the need to see him, to touch him, almost painful.

‘Fuck,’ I hissed, irritated with my own frustration and the wanton nature of my thoughts. I didn’t need to be distracted right now. I needed to find the bastard relic, or door – or anything .

The wishing stone flickered, almost mocking me.

With a frustrated groan, I made my way back into the hallway. I had to be missing something. I was so distracted I collided into something, making me stumble into the filthy wall.

A man stood in my path. His thinning hair in disarray like he’d already used the services and hadn’t even bothered to button his trousers back up. Any haze of mad lust for Emrys dissipated like a cold slap.

‘Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone,’ he leered, flashing me a grin to show blackened teeth as sour breath met my nose. I had nothing but pity for the poor creature who’d had to service this filthy bastard.

‘I have someone waiting,’ I smiled tightly, remembering I was supposed to be polite. Despite how the flames in the lamp just above his greasy head seemed to taunt me into singeing the bastard.

‘How much?’ He stepped more into my path, despite the weedy nature of his appearance and how badly I wanted to knock him back.

‘Too much,’ I bristled. Then those grabbing hands curled into the thin lace that concealed me.

Quick and sharp, with only a quarter of my Kysillian strength, I punched him in his lower abdomen. He folded with a wheeze, as if he was made of nothing but paper.

That’s when two other stumbling idiots entered the passage.

Bollocks.

‘Trouble?’ one of them asked. I parted my lips, trying to work out a lie, when I felt a familiar cold brush at my back. That flutter of desire came back. My magic almost preening through me, making my breath catch. The wishing stone hot where it hung between my breasts.

The men went rigid, as if they were nothing but puppets whose strings had gone taught.

A familiar strong hand looped around my middle, the same moment the scent of beasam bark touched my nose and I was pulled back into a hard chest.

‘I think you’ll find she’s mine.’ A dominance laced those words that matched the threatening pressure in the room.

Then all three men dropped to the ground in an instant.

I spun round to face an angry pair of midnight eyes.

Emrys.

Bollocks.