Page 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T he icy-eyed female Deathstalker manning the door at World’s End was a stone-cold bitch.

Ronin only managed a single glance into the thumping tavern before she slammed the door shut and shoved him away.

It made Ronin miss Charlie, the woolly mammoth bi-form from the Frosted Crystal in Kheimos. A friendly giant with a soft-spot for the ballet—and one very specific ballerina.

Ronin’s single, stolen glance revealed barely-clothed females serving groups of drinking, shouting, leering Brethren. There looked to be another female dancing on a stage at the far end of the room, but he wasn’t able to confirm.

He doubted he’d find Selene in there anyway. Or at least, he hoped and prayed he wouldn’t.

He turned and ran straight into Wormwood, grasping the male’s shoulder to keep him from falling backward.

“Challenger Matakos,” the weasel bi-form crooned, dragging his beady eyes across Ronin’s muscled arms. “How are you enjoying Harvest Night so far?”

“It’s been riveting.”

“Please,” Wormwood chuckled through his nose, an invitation glinting in his dull brown eyes. “Call me, Remy.” An odd request, since Ronin hadn’t called him anything at all. “Care to join me for a drink?”

Though Ronin preferred females, he did harbor a few yet-to-be-indulged curiosities. But if ever were inclined, a devious, oil-slick male like Wormwood would be at the absolute bottom of his list.

Despite all that, he was tempted. Perhaps he could get Wormwood rip-roaring drunk then ask him about Selene. But Ronin didn’t want to reveal such a weakness to the Koenig’s steward.

Ronin frowned. “Not sure the challenger would appreciate me fraternizing with the enemy.”

Wormwood’s smile grew larger. “No, I don’t suspect she would. Where is challenger Fortin? Thought I saw her run off shortly after the fight. I hope she wasn’t too disturbed.”

Ronin clenched his jaw. “She’s fine. Rushed home to strategize since the Koenig was foolish enough to reveal his moves.”

Wormwood’s whiskers twitched. “Clever girl.” He nodded toward the Deathstalker bouncer, who pushed open the door. “My invite stands should you ever change your mind, Butcher.”

Wormwood crooned Ronin’s nickname with far too much familiarity before entering the tavern to hoots and hollers from the Brethren.

Ronin stole another peek, spying the Koenig himself seated before the stage and surrounded by three beautiful Fae females. He lifted a mug toward his steward and?—

The door slammed in Ronin’s face and the Deathstalker angled her body before it, her popped fangs hanging below her chin in warning.

Messaged received.

So, Ronin ambled across the square to The Other Place and was welcomed by a far more subdued—and much shabbier—atmosphere.

The high wooden tabletops were cracked, chairs were missing legs, and steins were chipped. Even the bard warbling in the corner was off-key.

Despite the run-down digs, the patrons gave off a relieved energy—whether it was because their food stores had been replenished or because Wormwood hadn’t called their names, Ronin couldn’t say.

He sidled up to the bar, then leaned across the polished, pockmarked wood to signal the bartender.

An older Beastrunner with a flowing mane of gray-streaked blond hair and a missing canine ambled over. “What can I get ya?”

Ronin patted his pockets, realizing he had nothing to barter.

The bartender laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. First drink’s on the house.”

“Don’t suppose you have any Delirium?”

“’Fraid not. You’ll only find fresh feedings in Tartarus. And I can assure you, you won’t get them in this establishment.” The bartender cocked his head and eyed Ronin suspiciously.

Ronin hadn’t seen a single human since he’d arrived, so he had no idea what the male was talking about. Still, he felt the need to confirm that he didn’t feed from humans before he ordered a double-shot of aguaver.

As the bartender poured his drink, Ronin leaned across the bar and lowered his voice. “How long have you been here?”

The bartender puffed out his chest. “Been serving the thirsty citizens of Tartarus for four-hundred-and-fifty-two years. Almost as long as the Koenig has been in power, if ya please.”

Ronin slid onto a barstool, settling in to grill the oldest tenured prisoner he’d met thus far. One who he hoped might provide him some clues to Selene’s whereabouts. “I’m wondering if you might be able to help me find someone?”

The bartender hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Nearest brothel’s three blocks left of here.”

“No, no, I… My sister—my twin sister—was arrested and sent here ten years ago. Her name’s Selene Matakos.”

The bartender studied Ronin’s face as he slid him his drink, then shook his head. “Never heard the name. And pretty sure if I saw a female who looked like you, I’d remember.”

Ronin wrapped his tattooed fingers around the cloudy glass, his shoulders slumping. “Cheers,” he said before slamming it back, the burn of the liquor shaving off the sharpest edges of his disappointment. “What are you in for?”

The bartender leveled him with a glare. “Not a question one typically asks around here in polite company.”

Ronin barked out a laugh. “I’m the least polite person you’ll ever meet, friend.”

An amused chuckle escaped the bartender’s bearded muzzle and Ronin caught a whiff of a familiar scent. A tinge of decaying flowers that reminded him of Mireille.

Mortality.

Was the bartender part human?

If so, and he’d been here for centuries, perhaps he’d been locked up during or just after the war. During that time when Leonin Erabis and his Imperial minions had been determined to rid the continent of both humans and half-breeds. Ronin wondered how many other half-breeds were in here before returning to the subject of Selene.

“Is there a chance she’s here and you’ve never met her?” he asked.

The bartender dashed his hope. “I know nearly everyone in Tartarus. Perils of the job.”

“But she was arrested,” Ronin said, twirling his empty glass and trying to decide if it was wise to order another. “So if she’s not here, then…”

The bartender’s bushy brows dipped with sympathy as he muttered, “The mists.”

Ronin swallowed, his face going pale. There was no way. If Selene had been in the mists, Ronin was certain he would’ve sensed her. And if she’d died in there… Well, he and his wolf would know that as well.

Wouldn’t they?

Ronin frowned, throwing back the rest of his aquaver and mulling over the hot load of nothing the bartender had shared. Perhaps Ronin would have to take Wormwood up on his offer after all.

But not tonight. His head was pounding, he was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was get out of this tavern, shift into his wolf for a quick run, then crash onto his tiny bed in Mireille’s tiny apartment.

As he slid off his stool, a gorgeous Beastrunner female with a sleek blonde bob and a low-cut burgundy top leaned across the bar, signaling to the bartender.

Her eyes drifted to Ronin, then widened, her pupils dilating as her scent deepened.

Ronin knew what looks like that meant. If anything, he’d inspired even more since he’d started wearing the eye-patch.

The blonde’s lips curved into a coy smile as she turned toward the bartender, but her body remained angled toward Ronin.

And Creator help him, he thought about it. For a second, he really did. About how easy it would be to throw her some half-hearted pick-up line and end his month-long dry spell with a quick, sweaty fuck against the tavern wall outside. He was partial to red-heads—for reasons to which he refused to ascribe any meaning—but he was desperate enough to make an exception.

But he just…

He couldn’t.

And he wondered why? He’d been with plenty of females since he and Mireille had fallen out. Plus, she’d made it pretty clear she’d been fucking other people, too. So really, why did it matter?

You know why , his wolf offered as Ronin stalked from the bar, the blonde’s disappointed gaze tracking him through the tavern door.

Ronin didn’t bother answering as he slipped into the night, shifted into his wolf, and went for a run through the city streets.

He examined every face he passed, hoping against all odds that one would be his twin’s.

He’d already lost one of the females who’d made his life worth living.

He couldn’t stand the thought that he might have lost Selene as well.