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Malekai's parents were originally from the southern coast of Hades, where they still spokeAurealinga.It was a phrase he'd first told me a few years after we'd met, nearly a century ago, when he'd taken a bolt to the chest for me and nearly been killed because of it.
A few days later, I took a sword to the body that nearly stole my head to save him. He'd been furious and cursed at me for being so reckless. I'd merely given him a bloody grin and parroted his words.
More than a century later, the words still brought a swell of love and gratitude to my chest. Anytime we were forced to part ways, had an argument, or merely wanted to show the other affection, we needn't say anything more than those two words to be understood.
A sad smile tilted one corner of my lips at our declaration that spoke of undying love and loyalty.
"Katadamna kaza."
Damn the cost.
Chapter
Three
MAREINA
I’djustsat down when the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Feeling the heat of someone’s gaze, my eyes lifted from the table I was sitting at to find one of Mors’ cursedPharalakidressed in his signature black robe. Unease seeped into my veins like a poison, and an icy fist squeezed my throat.
It took up the corner across from me in the tavern’s dining room. The blasted things were made out of shadow. They didn’t drink wine or beer.
What the fuck does it want?
You,that shameful, guilt-ridden part of me whispered.
I’d cheated Death,Mors,entirely too long. Had sent him far too many souls over the last 100 years for him not to take notice.
The shrill tinkle of feminine laughter coming from the booth behind me made my hackles rise. I twisted in my seat to settle a threatening glare at whoever was sure to give me a headache and found a scantily clad female dressed in white, a scarlet Erosyan collar on her neck, sitting on the lap of some male, her head tossed back in feigned, uproarious laughter.
There’s no way that slimy fuck is that funny.
By no means was I against theErosyan Disciples.Those who worshipped the goddess of pleasure, lust, and desire dedicated their lives to providing pleasure to others. My father was one, and as of the last 60 or so years, he'd become the high priest at the Erosyan Temple here in Bastrina. They'd taken us in when my mother had abandoned us shortly after I'd been born. A wound that had long since healed the best way it could and had turned into akeloid scar. Apparently, she’d disappeared one night and left nothing more behind than a note reading,“I’m sorry.”
My father had come from poverty and had next to no material wealth, like most Atratusians. And by the time he'd had me, his family, loving as they were, had long passed. Without my mother to care for me so my father could work, we'd become destitute quickly and found ourselves on the steps of the Erosyan Temple. A place known for rehabilitating those in need… At a cost, of course.
Even so, thanks to the Erosyan Temple, I'd been readily enfolded into one enormous family despite all its flaws. They'd fostered my singing abilities and encouraged and trained me.
Before I'd even reached adulthood, I'd sung in their pleasure halls as my way of contributing. It had been the most fulfilling thing I'd ever experienced. It still remained to be one of them. However, despite all the love and nourishment that had helped me blossom and grow at the Erosyan Temple thanks to its disciples… More than a few patrons had given me the kind of scars you couldn't see. However, I knew the only reason I didn't have any physical scars was purely because of my sanguinati healing abilities. My singing had drawn too much attention. Thewrongkind of attention.
And while some patrons were respectful.
Some were not.
They'd taken what they wanted.
It was why I had left and joined Queen Zurie's army. It had been my only means of escape outside of rendering myself even more vulnerable by sleeping on the streets. Joining her ranks had given me the skills to protect myself, and I vowed to han to never be made a victim again.
But I had yet to sing since. Not in front of anyone, at least.
Occasionally, in the comfort and security of my home, I would sing in the small hours of the night until tears poured from my eyes in cathartic release.
I turned back around in my seat to find thePharalakihad disappeared, and I finally exhaled.
A heavy sigh left me as I raised the glass of amber liquid to my lips, briefly locking eyes with another of the pub's patrons wearing an expression similar to mine.
My eyes scanned the crowded pub, desperate to find another open table or booth, just as Malekai strode in. Like a magnet, his eyes found mine instantly. Just as every female and several males' eyes were drawn to him.
Unconcerned with his ever-present admirers, his handsome face split in two at the sight of me. He had a way about him that always seemed to illuminate every room he entered, whereas I tended to darken it. He had the sort of beauty and perfection that was almost annoying. Truly, Malekai was an unfairly good-looking male.
