Chapter 8
Argos
W ood and pipe smoke gather in the rafters at the Goat and Dragon. It’s insanely loud in here what with these ancient bells strapped to my back as well as the backs of every other male in attendance. I’m at a round table in the center of the large room, having a pint with Romulus, the watchtower gargoyle.
“Explain the bells to me, Romulus.”
I’m glad to spend a fun evening here, but what I truly need is an opportunity to pick Grumlin’s mind about the khymeia. From what Cyrus said, the northern folk—which includes most of my kith and kin—call wizards darkbloods, and my father told me to ask one such person about the stones. But I do worry about what he’ll think of me having them. Will he be like Tully is, believing I shouldn’t have them because I’m a non-magical creature?
“Call me Rom, please.” The gargoyle seems like a good fellow, quiet but clever when he opens his mouth. Unlike most people. “I had a meeting with Rustion this morning,” the big gray guy says. “He explained that the bells are meant to scare away the dark so that the spring comes early.”
“But why don’t the females wear them?”
“The whole event is an old fertility rite, so originally it was meant to boost virility and encourage rutting. More ringing bells means more younglings in the spring.”
I laugh and take a sip of my ale. It’s sharp and slightly sweet. Delicious. “And the masks?”
Rom shrugs one shoulder, one of his bells clanking. “Rustion didn’t tell me.”
I nod and touch one of the embroidered straps holding the bells to my back. “I’m assuming it’s to honor the Owl of Winter.” The owl is a symbol of wisdom throughout the Veiled Kingdoms. “Maybe it’s simultaneously keeping a bit of secrecy for the whole rucking part of the evening.”
Rom nods. “Who helped you put your bells on?”
“Oh, that was Cyrus. He’s letting me room at the pub for half price until I get my feet under me.”
“I should take him for a drink sometime,” Rom says.
“How does this all go anyway?” I ask.
“Drinking. Music. Dancing. The usual plus the dousing of the lights. It will get wild in here tonight, just so you know. I haven’t attended Leafshire Cove’s version of this ritual, but at the ones I’ve attended in other areas of the Veiled Kingdoms, there is always a wild fervor that spreads through the crowd once all flames are doused.”
“Interesting.”
The idea of being near Tully during such a crazy evening has my cock throbbing already. I imagine pulling her into my lap and holding her against me so she’ll notice exactly what minotaurs have to offer. Shoving that daydream away, I take another drink.
Like a spell I cast just with my own horny mind, Tully slinks through the double doors. She has Laini on her arm, the two of them grinning like they’re definitely up to something. The corset Tully is wearing has my blood rushing in the wrong direction for the brains I need to keep up with her banter.
“Do they look mischievous or am I being paranoid?” I ask Romulus.
“Oh no, you’re spot on.” Humor colors his tone as he regards his mate, Laini. “Those two are thick as thieves.”
“Should we invite them over?”
“Aye.”
We both wave to them, and they weave through the crowded tavern to our table. Instead of frowning at me and avoiding me as I thought she would, the red-headed witch slips into a chair right beside me and smiles.
I make myself shudder. “That grin isn’t as welcoming as you think it is.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Watch that tongue, bull.”
I touch the side of my mouth with said tongue and give her a half-lidded look. Her gaze snaps to my lips and her breasts rise and fall more quickly. Like it or not, she’s attracted to me. I don’t know why I’m flirting. She is my rival, and I can’t have her meddling in my affairs. But she’s just so very tempting.
I down the last of my pint and raise my hand to order another from one of the many servers Grumlin has milling about the smoky room. I am not usually a drinker, but hey, it’s been an exciting few days, so I think I might have a little more than is wise tonight.
“How are you liking our town?” Laini asks me, her hand in Rom’s.
“It’s fantastic. Everyone, well mostly everyone, has been very welcoming.” I give Tully a meaningful look and she smiles with all of her teeth. Gods, she’s scary. And stunning. What I wouldn’t give to tie her up and torture her in the most pleasurable ways…
“They all just adore you, Argos,” Tully says. She grabs the server before he can pass by. “Get us four smokewaters, will you? Thanks.”
“What is a smokewater?” I ask. I smell trouble for sure now.
Tully crosses her arms on the table and her red-stained lips curve upward. “You’ll love it. They’re tradition for the winter festivities, isn’t that right, Laini?”
Laini’s face gives her away. This is no tradition. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Have to take a shot on the first evening of Grumlin’s celebrations.”
“At least one shot,” Rom says. He studies his pint, a grin tugging at his gray mouth.
I give them all a raised eyebrow, but I’m willing to play along. Perhaps a bit of hazing on the part of the inhabitants will help me in my business.
The server returns with a tray of tiny crockery cups. Smoke as dark as ink floats from each one.
“Looks delicious,” I say.
Laini snorts a laugh and grabs for one of the shots. Tully clears her throat and makes a big show of choosing her shot as if they are different somehow. Finally, she makes her selection and whips it down faster than my eyes can track. Rom and I take ours, and I shut my eyes against the scent of the stuff. It’s like pine tar. I get it down and am pleasantly surprised at the easy warmth the drink sends through me. The shot leaves the faint taste of lingonberries and sugar on my tongue.
“If you can get past the smell, it’s pretty good.”
Tully nods, her eyes too wide. She wiggles her fingers at the server and points to our table, ordering another round. I don’t think the shots are really that strong. I feel fine. We set into a warm loaf of bread, which we dip into a hot pot of melted white cheese. It’s fantastic fare.
“I didn’t see you at the market today,” I say to Tully over another shot.
“I was too busy researching whatever is going on with that hole in the ground.”
“Ah. I’m glad that’s the reason. I would hate for you to give up competing with me. After all, I had more than enough customers to share all day long.”
Tully’s delicate nostrils flare, and she pauses, her piece of bread dripping cheese onto the table. She seems to shake herself, and then she lifts her chin and puts her pink little tongue out to catch another string of cheese before she devours the bite.
I’ve never wanted to be cheese, but I suppose there is a first time for everything.
Grumlin claps his hands from where he’s climbed up on top of a table near the band. “Time for dancing! Move the tables!”
I’ve fully given up trying to get a word with the wizard. This is pretty obviously not the right time. The Leafshire Cove inhabitants are well-versed in Grumlin’s command. Before I can do more than save the last of my shots, our table and all the others are scooted to the sides of the room.
“Move, move,” Tully demands as she takes hold of my chair.
I stand and the room tilts. “Whoa. I guess those shots are finally catching up to me.”
A quiet cackle comes from Tully’s direction. She’s tucking my chair beside the others against the wall under a tapestry of maplecats playing dice. The music is rising—lutes, pipes, and a hand drum of some sort. I remember to clap along quickly like Cyrus told me, so I don’t have to buy everyone a round.
The clapping erodes into a dancing. Tully takes my hand and I don’t even argue. She pulls me close and begins dragging me around the makeshift dance floor. I grip her waist and stare into her green eyes.
“I know what you’re doing,” I say.
“Oh yes? What is that, exactly?”
“You’re getting me drunk so you can have your way with me and then leave me brokenhearted so I give up my business.”
Her head tilts back, and she laughs loudly over the sound of the music and the crowd. “You would think that.” Her gaze strays behind me to my tail. The unmistakable shine of desire washes over her gaze. “Males are quite similar even when they are minotaurs.”
“Why else would you be giving me too many shots and dancing with me, your rival?” Even if she wasn’t a witch with magic that I find endlessly fascinating, I’d be completely enthralled by this female. She’s just so much more than everyone else.
“Shhh.” She puts a finger over my lips, and my tongue darts out to lick her cool fingertip. She startles, her wicked grin fading and her eyelids fluttering. I didn’t plan to do that, but I guess my tongue has ideas of its own when it comes to this witch. I draw her close and put my mouth at her ear.
“What are you up to, little witch?”
Her hand snakes down my chest and pauses low, close to my cock which has joined in with my tongue on showing desire for her. I suck in a breath and feel my tail thrash.
“Just dance, Argos. Live a little. Have some fun.”
I’m dizzy. I’m lightheaded. I’m turned on. But I’m not an idiot. I can still keep my wits about me.
Maybe.
She spins in my arms and stomps her tall, pointed, black boots in time with the rest of the dancers. Her scent is like a spell in and of itself. I don’t bother trying to mimic her moves; I just shift one way and then the other in rhythm with her, letting her lead and inhaling her alluring scent. The music rises and falls, and soon, it’s cresting and the crowd is going wild. Shouts and cheers and dares fill the air.
“I’ll swim across the river!”
“I’ll do it twice!”
“I bet three pints you have to be fished out!”
“To long nights!”
“To Grumlin!”
The hearth’s light goes dark. Next, the flickering gas lamps positioned around the tavern black out. Only faint starlight drifts over the masked crowd. The dancing breaks into a mishmash of bumping bodies and laughter. The bells are so loud that it creates a buzz in my head that is somehow exciting.
It’s fantastic and so free—nothing I’ve ever experienced has been like this. Nobles aren’t permitted to act so uncivilized. I’m so glad I’m here and not stuck at a fussy court dinner as I have been so many nights of my life.
Tully is a vision more intoxicating than the drinks. She’s tossed her pointed hat to some friend in the stramash and her red hair is a gorgeous mess. She pulls me close again and I dip my chin down. Our lips are only a breath away from touching.
Does she want to kiss me? Does she know what it means to kiss a minotaur?
“I want to kiss you even though you’re horrible,” I whisper.
Her chuckle dusts warm air over my neck and chin. “I like the honesty.”
“But I can’t.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“When a minotaur kisses someone, they are claiming them. Especially when they do it in public.”
“No one cares. And I’m certainly not letting you claim me. Even if you weren’t the ultimate thorn in my side, I’d never allow you to do that.”
The crowd is pushing and jostling around us and the lights have all been doused so it’s dark enough to provide some secrecy. With the moon in its hidden state, there is little light coming through the tavern’s windows.
“I want to do very dirty things to that dangerously pretty mouth of yours, but I hesitate because of my kind’s ways.”
“Screw your minotaur tradition. You’re in Leafshire Cove. Make your own traditions. Start with kissing me just because it’s a party and hate sex is fabulous.”
I laugh at that, and my body heats at hearing the word sex come out of her red lips. She has a good point. I’m here to start over. To make my way in the world. I don’t have an estate right now; I’m not really a lord any longer. Why should I adhere to a custom that no one here even knows about? There aren’t any other minotaurs in town—I checked. There’s no council to demand I follow the rules of courting.
My heart beats hard once as I lean closer. “Fine.”
I press my lips to hers and desire shoots down my body. She tastes like mint and smokewater and I can’t get enough. Her hands find my hips and bunch in my tunic, just under my belt. I spread my fingers into her hair and ease her even closer. My cock and the knot at its base—just a bump at the moment—rub against her belly and she moans into my mouth. Gods, I want to take her right here in the middle of this wild mayhem. I want to turn her around, throw her over that table, and pop a knot into her so big that she’ll scream my name. She’ll want me the way I want her.
I’m definitely drunk.
Her tongue tangles with mine and her breasts push against me. I drag my lips down her smooth throat and lick my way over her collarbone as she moans. I take one hand from her hair and cup her breast, right at the bottom of that luscious curve. I move my thumb over her nipple and it peaks under the black fabric of her dress. She gasps and makes a mewing noise that could make me come in a matter of seconds.
I want her to touch my horns or my tail—two of the most sensitive parts of my body. My tail wraps tightly around her leg as I try to touch her in every way I can here in the middle of a dark tavern. I use the tip of my tail to tickle her thigh, and she hums into my ear, her hands still bunching my tunic and the waist of my trousers like she has to hold on to me or this will end. I don’t mind it one bit.
I dare to slip my tail farther up under her skirts until I feel the heat of her center through her underclothes. Wiggling the end of my tail, I just barely touch the fabric over her folds. She gasps loudly and nearly breaks skin as she grips me through my clothing.
“Like that, do you?” I whisper into her ear.
Pulling away, she looks up at me. We’re both practically panting.
“Can you get me some water?” she asks, her eyes bright behind her mask.
“That’s not what I was hoping you’d say.”
She lifts a shoulder. “I’m just parched.”
It’s fine. It is hot in here, and we’ve been downing copious amounts of alcohol. “I’m on it. Be right back.”
I adjust my trousers and tunic, and then I work my way through the wild dancing and clanging bells to the bar.
When I return to where I left Tully with a glass of water in hand, she is gone.