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Kadou could have moved away. And on the other hand, Evemer could have let him go.
How pathetic was he? He needed to have his wits together, and yet all Kadou could think about was how close Evemer was, how much of him there was, how solid and warm, and how he wanted to lick Evemer’s neck up to his ear, and bite the lobe, and hear that—thatsound,gods, he’d almost managed to get that sound out of his head. He breathed in deep, and felt Evemer’s breath in reply.
There was a plan. They’d wait and watch, two more anonymous faces in the dim gloom of the incense lounge, and as soon as that damn attendant came back . . . It was such a little thing! They only needed her for a minute, less than a minute—just enough time to ask a few questions, find out whether Siranos or Sylvia had been in communication with them.
He drew away slowly, his mouth gone very dry, and poured himself tea from the pot. It was a snowmelt blend, intended to be served cool, but in the oppressive warmth of the room, it had gone lukewarm and the flavor had dulled.
One of the attendants passing by the table glanced over, then looked back, eyes wide with shock. Kadou turned his face away sharply and looked at Evemer—he was on edge, tense all over, his eyes fixed hard on that attendant.
“She recognized you,” Evemer said. “Your hair. Too distinctive.”
“Even tied back?”
“Sir,” Evemer said. “Don’t face the room.”
Kadou sighed, gulped the rest of the lukewarm tea, and angled himself back toward Evemer, away from the room. He leaned an arm on the back of the divan and propped his cheek on his hand. From a distance, it might look like—well, like a man leaning close to speak to his lover. Kadou’s face went hot to think of it.
The minutes dragged past.
“What’s taking so long?” Kadou said, trying not to fidget. “Are you watching the room?”
“Yes.”
“Hard for me to see anything like this.”
Evemer thought for a moment. “Sir,” he said. “If you—” He tugged Kadou closer, got his arm around him. A bit of arranging and muttering, and he had his face mostly hidden in Evemer’s collar, his hair partially hiding his face—from here he could just watch the room from the corner of his eye.
“Better,” he whispered. Evemer shivered, his arm tightening around Kadou’s waist and ribs. Kadou wasn’t sure what that was about until he realized with a delicious jolt—his eyelashes, it must have been, tickling against Evemer’s neck. Just the brush of his eyelashes, and Evemer shuddered for him. Gods.
“No one’s watching us now.” His voice was so low it rumbled in his chest, vibrating into Kadou’s very nerves.
“No one that we can see,” he whispered. He tried to tip his mind toward unfettered paranoia and away from distracted lust. The warmth and the sweet smoke in the air were doing their job, relaxing him even though he had not inhaled directly of the incense. That much was probably fine, but he didn’t want to blunt the jagged edges of his vigilance further. Such anxiety did have afunction,after all, at least in some circumstances—it kept him taut, tense, ready. The slight calm from the effects of the ambient smoke in the air was just enough to feel as though the ground under his feet were solid, not enough to keep him off his toes or slow his reaction speed. Frankly, the effect of Evemer’s arms around him was a much more intense one than the smoke, but that canceled itself out by both winding up Kadou’s tensionandsteadying the ground. “That attendant—do you think she knows? Maybe she was warned. Maybe she was expecting to see us.”
“It’s possible.”
Kadou rested in the curve of Evemer’s neck and shoulder. It was only natural, then, for his hand to creep up, laying flat on Evemer’s chest, and then slowly moving up over his other shoulder and the back of his neck.
Damn hands. Damn them. Kadou’s whole body was committing treason against him now.
Kadou heard the attendant come back and pulled away. “Thank you,” he said, but her hands were empty.
She smiled. “Sorry, gentlemen, the person with the message stepped out on an errand for another patron just before you came and she’s a little late coming back. It should just be another few minutes. We’d like to offer you another pot of tea for the inconvenience.”
Kadou cleared his throat and tried to shake off the haze of incense smoke and warmth and insistent longing. “We never had to wait before,” he said. “Is this new? Something wrong?”
“Not at all,” she said smoothly. “Merely a busy night. We’re short-staffed.”
“Is it common for there to be—” But she had already whisked away again.
Evemer tweaked his sleeve and Kadou leaned back into him again, mulishly. “She was probably an expert in getting out of irritating conversations within the first week she started working here,” Evemer rumbled—Kadou felt it against his cheek, and through his chest pressed to Evemer’s, all the way down to his bones. And then, an instant later, “Don’t move.” Evemer went very, very still.
“Who is it?” Kadou whispered. He was facing the front wall of the incense lounge here, and most of what he could see was Evemer’s neck and a corner of the table.
“Siranos.”
Kadou’s nerves jangled, and he longed to turn his head enough to peek from under Evemer’s chin and see for himself, but he stayed quiet. “What is he doing?”
“He came in. He sat across the room, near the counter.”
