I blinked away the confusion and looked back at the menu. “You want something melty and savory. Got it.”
Drinks were set in front of us and I placed our orders, giving explicit instructions to the waiter tomake suremeat was excluded from her dish due to an allergy. Vivian drummed her fingers on the table subtly. Her eyes were fixated on the drink in front of her like a ravenous beast.
The moment we were alone, she picked up her glass andchugged. Purple seeped into the corners of her mouth, which she licked up with her cute pink tongue before diving back in.
“Let’s discuss your alcohol tolerance.” I grabbed my glass and leaned back, taking a speculative sip. I’d been present for Faeryn’s introduction to Trebiannan booze and wasn’t about to risk carrying an unconscious goddess to an inn. That would make itveryhard to fly under the radar.
“It’s decent.” Her eyes closed in bliss as she slowed down from her initial frenzy.
“You aren’t the first I’ve seen overestimate themselves.” I picked something relatively safe to test the waters. I wasn’t Mykie with herridiculousDrooler order. Poor Faeryn.
“Can I try yours?”
“It’s strong.”
“So am I,” she assured, puffing out her rain-soaked chest.
A genuine grin pulled at my cheeks. Her spunky attitude wasn’t what I expected from the divine, but I was smitten. When was the last time someone had been this interesting? Lively? The spark of her life was sovibrant. Her laughter a blissful hymn. The most beautiful crystals glittered in her pale blue eyes.
I passed her the drink and watched with interest as her plump lips wrapped around the rim of the glass to sip.Right where my lips had just been. She failed to mask her wince when she tasted the liquor.
“Good?” I asked.
“Good,” she confirmed, her voice sounded strained. She was absolutely holding in a cough. “Thanks for sharing. Want to try some of mine?”
Her drink was common. I knew what it tasted like. “Please.” My fingers brushed hers as we traded glasses. “It’s tasty,” I confirmed when I caught her expectant expression after I sipped.
“So, Mercurians are the ones with the colorful tattoos, right?” She looked toward our waiter as they helped another table.
It was an interesting way to describe the markings, but I understood what she meant. Mercurians had large cracks in their skin that revealed their vibrant interior colors. Our waiter’s “plasma” was cyan. Of course, “plasma” was a popular misconception of the uneducated—most people on Trebianna. In reality, it was concentrated mist, rolling to a bubble when trapped under the layers of their faux skin. It was extremely toxic when concentrated into a liquid, but mildly euphoric inits natural gaseous state. Of course, that state was only present when the Mercurian was feral. I had to learn about how it all worked as a hitman. Killing them could be fatal to the attacker if they were splattered with “blood”.
“Right.” I didn’t want to entertain conversations like this in public. She should save her foreign curiosity for when we had privacy. “Let’s review our shopping list for tomorrow,” I changed the topic.
My stomach growled loudly when I saw our dinner approaching. I hadn’t been eating nearly enough for the manual labor I’d been putting in over the last several days. I’d given most of the meat rations to her beast hoping it’d grow with extra protein, and I felt bad raiding Vivian’s rations. A handful of berries a few times per day was fine. I didn’tneedmore to eat.
One of my biggest lessons from being a successful hitman was that I didn’tneedanything.
“Theo, it’s pizza!” Vivian exclaimed, gawking at the white and yellow yeast melt over unleavened bread, chopped vegetables scattered on top.
“Is that good?”
“I could kiss you.”
That sounded like it was good.
I was happy she was pleased. Although I prayed to whatever god might hear me that this female would stop proposing physical affection in exchange for her meals. I quieted my tongue, so ready to snap back with a flirty remark.
I was promised more than a kiss for that drink, Little Goddess.
“Room availability?” I asked the Lychan at the inn reception desk.
“We got one left. Twenty gold for the night,” she responded, a claw tracing the pages of her check-in book.
Fuck. We needed two rooms. Obviously.
My eyes panned to Vivian, who was craning her neck to look up the dim flight of stairs in the back left corner of the lobby.
“You aren’t gonna find availability anywhere else,” the Lychan sighed. “Lotta folks have come from out of town to restock since last winter.”
