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I held my head low, drops of rain splattering down on my hood as heavier clouds promising snow rolled in from the horizon. I trekked across the wet cobblestones, my body edgy and alert. Though I wasn’t sure if it was for the right reasons. Watching out for any threat, my mind kept slipping back to what Raven had confessed.
I should’ve been more upset she lied about her name, but in truth, I was kinda proud. She was smart enough to realize names had power, and she hadn’t known me enough to fully trust me. Which made me the idiot. I hadn’t even contemplated she was anything more than what she presented. A young, naive college girl who got in way over her head. Not a threat, and certainly not someone who had a marked history.
Not someone who killed a guy during sex.
A flash of her riding someone, her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing, losing complete control, invaded my mind.
Fuck.
I adjusted my cock as the image put me under her instead, my hips snapping into her just as hard, sweat covering us, moans filling the room.
My dick hardened, pushing against my zipper. It had been happening a lot more lately, like my sex drive was waking up out of a coma after losing Kek and Lucas.
Waking up for her…
A growl came from my throat as I tried to shove the full movie happening in my mind back into the archives.
Did she give this guy a heart attack? How old was he? Human? Fae? Good enough for her? Clearly not worthy enough to handle her. How wild was she in bed?
I had so many questions, but they were all for something I shouldn’t care about. Should have no interest in finding out details to. That was her personal life.
I didn’t care.
But everything that had happened this morning, running from one of the most feared Mafia groups, and all I kept thinking about was her and this guy. She fucked a guy to death…
What a way to go out. Sounded good to me.
The need for sex, need for fairy dust, need for something I couldn’t even put my finger on prickled over my body as I walked into a pub. It was busy for a midmorning, the cold weather driving people in for warmth, getting it from either fire or alcohol.
I needed a drink, and I could get hot food to take away for us. Two birds, one stone kind of thing. Though the craving to release some of my tension was what propelled me through the doors, wishing for more than liquor to be found here.
A mix of fae and human, women and men, milled around the small, dark bar. Debauchery covered the room in an oily film. Some of the clientele appeared as if they had just gotten off a shift at the factory, some preparing for a day on their back—or up against a wall.
I respected brothels. At least they were regulated. Workers got wages, security, and room and board. Freelance prostitution was the bottom of the barrel. You had no rights, no protection, and barely got enough money to get your next meal, forcing you to work round the clock. And every client might be your last. The murder rate was the highest with hookers, who usually had no one to even notice they were gone.
This pub was full of sex workers, which brought in the upper-class men looking for a very cheap, quick time before going home to their wives and kids.
“Whatever you have that’s strong.” I straddled a bar stool, addressing the bartender. A stocky human man with a sharp nose and thick mustache and eyebrows, nodded back, pouring me something from a clear bottle. He slid it over to me, and I didn’t hesitate to take a gulp, my eyes watering over the cheap brandy, the burn choking down my throat.
“Another,” I requested, thanking him when he refilled my cup. It had been a really bad day, and it wasn’t even noon.
“You have takeaway?” I asked.
“Tripe soup and bread.”
“Great,” I muttered dryly, the alcohol not working fast enough. “You have anythingstronger?” I tapped my nose, the sign for dust.
“We don’t have that here,” he huffed, a disapproving frown on his face as he wandered to another customer.
“I could help you with that.” A man in a nice suit slid onto the stool next to me, a drink already in his hand. His groomed appearance and ensemble suggested he was doing well in life. He turned a smile on me, his brown eyes rolling over me with interest. His graying temples and creases around his eyes defined him as human, probably in his late forties, early fifties. Handsome enough to be called it, but not so much you’d notice him in a room. It was the confidence in his position that drew any notice to him, screaming he had money, which was a very attractive quality to have here.
“Free of charge.” He winked.
“Nothingis free of charge.”
A grin pulled his lips, understanding my meaning.
“Wise words.” He took a sip of his drink. “Then think of it as an enticement.”
