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He emerged from the hallway and moved directly towards the bar itself. He considered going to the full moon celebration, but if she was there, he didn’t think he could control himself and he didn’t want to ruin her any more than he already had. A few of the women from the brothel were already working the crowd, their gowns disheveled and pushed down, exposing large areas of their breasts, pushed together by corsets. Some didn’t seem to care that their nipples were peeking through the material, and, in fact, they had probably done it on purpose to attract their customers quickly.
The second Matthyw sat down, one instantly approached him. She reached for his hair, but he slapped her hand away, not in the mood to be touched by anything less than what he already had.
“Don’t,” he said, casting his eyes to her sharply. It would be his only warning.
The whore frowned at him, huffing in offense, before shrugging her shoulders and moving onto someone more willing to give her the attention she so desperately needed.
Matthyw finally turned his attention to the bar and lifted a hand. “One ale,” he muttered, though he knew he would be getting many more pints than just one. He wasn’t sure what that number would ultimately be, but as long as it took away the memory of Adrya, the look on her face when he kissed her, the desire in those eyes, the sounds that she made…he would drink until he couldn’t drink anymore.
Matthyw wokeup the next morning after a splash of cold water hit his person. He shot up, immediately looking around for the person who would dare risk throwing something in his direction – especially cold water on a cold morning.
And that was when he was hit with a headache unlike one he had ever had before.
Matthyw wasn’t unfamiliar with getting drunk, especially after Grey sent him on one of his missions. Numbing his body to feeling was one of the ways in which he survived, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But he hadn’t expected to employ such a method after last night. In fact, he had hoped it would make her forget, but the truth was, there was no forgetting anything about Adrya. He had desired her for so long, and it was clear, it wasn’t just one-way. She wanted him, trusted him, would have done anything with him. And he had ruined everything.
He groaned, closing his eyes and reaching up. The second his fingers brushed his pounding head, he dropped them. Even the lightest caress could inflict such pain.
“Unless you intend to pay me for your time here, you best leave,” a familiar drawl told him.
He opened one eye, looking to see Sally standing there in one of her casual dresses, hair swept up in a loose bun. She must be doing accounting of some kind to be dressed so demurely.
“Where am I?” he demanded to know, furrowing his brows as he tried to take in where he was.
“In the stables,” she said.
No wonder it smelled like horse shit and straw. The scent was enough to cause him to roll over. He wasn’t one to throw up, but there was something about the morning, about the pain in his head, about where he was, that seemed like the perfect combination that might just get him to do it.
“Why am I in the stables?” he demanded to know. He was crouched in a position resembling a cat, and he fucking hated that Sally was there to witness it. He wasn’t at his best; his wolf was stunted because he couldn’t control himself, and he was ready to throw up all the fucking ale he indulged in last night, but he doubted he’d get that reprieve.
“Because you made a spectacle of yourself last night, why do you think?” she asked in a hushed voice, as though she worried someone might overhear the conversation between the two of them. She marched closer to where Matthyw was but not close enough where she wanted to touch – or smell – him. He couldn’t fault her for that. “Do you remember what happened last night? Do you remember who you took to my brothel, what you did to her in a room full of naked bodies?”
Matthyw growled. He’d been doing everything in his power to forget what the fuck he had done, and the images, the sounds, even Adrya’s taste, wouldn’t fucking leave him, even though he had tried so damn hard just for that.
“You think they wouldn’t know who she is?” Sally asked.
Matthyw’s lips flickered up even though he had no right to find anything amusing at this point. “Jealous?”
“Over a girl?” Sally demanded to know. “Of course not. It’s been clear for a while how much you desire your sister, Matthyw –”
“She’s not blood,” he snapped.
“Ah, yes, that’s the line you’ve drawn in the sand,” she snapped. “Do you deny your desire for her?”
“I deny how that’s any of your business,” he said, pushing himself back until his butt hit the ground. No longer was he hunched over like a cat, about to spit up a hairball; instead, he was sitting as upright as he could without any added pressure to his abdomen, arms in front of him.
“It’s my business when you bring intomybrothel, treating her like she's some kind of whore —“
Despite the pain wracking through his body, Matthyw’s eyes sliced up and caught Sally. “She isn’t a whore,” he said, “and should you refer to her as such again, I would be happy to remove your tongue from your mouth.”
Sally sneered. “What was your plan, anyway?” she asked, stepping into the stables with a hand in her hip. “Ruin her? Make her father marry you? And what of your lady-wife?”
“That cunt was not a lady and wife in name only,” he spat. “Sally, I tire of this conversation. Unless you will fetch me a water, I will just leave —“
“Your father wishes to see you immediately,” she said. “Adrya’s father –”
“Don’t say her name,” Matthyw snapped.
“Are you really so possessive that you refuse to allow others to address her?” Sally smirked, amused. “I have it all wrong, don’t I? This entire ploy, I initially believed, was about ruining her. But the truth is, you’re the one that’s ruined, aren’t you? My, my, I didn’t think it was possible for the Impure Prince to have a heart, but you do, don’t you?” Her smile widened, always a dangerous sign. “Careful with that, Matthyw. One sign of weakness, and that could be fatal…for both youandher.”
