9. Reznyk
Chapter 9
Reznyk
SOMETHING YOU WANT TO KNOW
T he third floor is clearly where they keep the cheaper rooms. The second floor had a plush, crimson carpet and rooms spaced so far apart the hallway felt like it belonged to a castle. But the third floor’s landing has a beaten-down carpet that probably started life as a deep forest green but is now a sort of seasick lime. The doors here are much closer together, and the roof slopes down on either side, giving the third floor a pinched feeling.
The sense of magic is thicker up here too. Whatever magic the Towers brought with them, and whoever’s controlling it, it’s here. I might have just walked into a trap. Magic prickles beneath my skin as I step gently onto the sickly green carpet. There’s a strange, rhythmic creaking sound in the hallway, like a rusty hinge banging open and shut, open and shut.
Oh. Right. My cheeks burn as I recognize the sound of bedsprings getting a thorough workout. I ease down the hallway on my tiptoes, holding my breath. The metallic creaking is coming from the first door on the right. And so is the warm rush of magic. I hesitate for a moment, long enough to hear the gasps and muffled slapping sounds accompanying the protests of the bedsprings. Whoever came here from the Towers, it’s not Fyrris. It’s probably not an Exemplar at all; they’re sworn to celibacy, and this would be a very public place to break that vow.
I’m oddly disappointed. I’m not even worth sending an Exemplar? And I’m such an easy target that whoever is hunting me can spend the afternoon fucking instead?
I shake my head. This is all good news, really. With any luck, I’ll get all my questions answered tonight and slip out before the Towers know I’m here. I pass the door, letting magic tremble across my skin.
The fourth door on the left is open a crack. I pause, my heart pacing inside the cage of my ribs, magic simmering under my skin, and my cock taking quite an interest in the muffled sounds that are still floating through the hallway. My fingers tighten around the neck of the wine bottle; I force them to relax. And then I push the door open.
My mind goes blank.
The woman, Kira, is sitting on a bed pushed against the window. It’s the only thing in this little room, just one massive bed under one massive window.
And she’s not wearing pants. My mind trips over itself as I try, and fail, to stare at something other than the vast expanse of bare skin and tight curves curled under her body.
“Oh,” she says. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
She blinks at me. In the gray light falling through the window, her eyes are the bright blue of the ocean lined with a delicate shadow of kohl that I swear she wasn’t wearing when I met her downstairs. Her lips look darker too. Shinier.
“Of course,” I stammer.
Hells below. She got dressed up for me. And she took off her pants.
All the blood in my body is abandoning my brain in favor of my cock, and if I don’t move soon, things are going to get awkward. I smile at Kira, step into her room, and pull the door closed behind me. Then I look around desperately for somewhere to sit that isn’t the bed.
“How did you escape those mighty hunters?” Kira purrs.
She shifts on the bed, patting the wrinkled duvet next to her. And I realize she’s not completely without pants; she’s just wearing a pair of loose shorts, like something an off-duty Guard might toss on. They make her look even less like Lenore, who would choose an excruciating death over wearing something like that.
“Well, it wasn’t easy,” I reply, finally abandoning my quest to find somewhere to sit other than a bed in a tiny room that clearly only contains a bed. “I had to fake my own death.”
I sink down on the edge of the bed. Kira pulls the wineglasses from my hands. She sets them on the windowsill, then takes the wine bottle.
“I’m surprised that worked,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me. “They didn’t just continue talking at your corpse?”
“I had to do it twice,” I reply.
Kira grins at me in a way that makes me glad these pants aren’t any tighter. She lifts the bottle, fills both glasses, and then offers one to me.
“So, here’s an idea,” she says. “Have you ever played Questions?”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I reply, as I take the glass from her outstretched arm. “Answer the question honestly or take a drink?”
“Oh, you have been a teenager, then?” she replies, with another wicked, wicked grin.
“Is that a question?” I reply. “Should I take a drink?”
Kira takes a sip of wine. It leaves her lips glistening, and for the first time in a very long time I want to know how a woman tastes. How all of her tastes.
“Gentlemen first,” Kira says, tipping her glass to me.
“Did you invite a gentleman?” I reply. “Should I move over to make room for him?”
She giggles. It’s a delightful sound, like bubbles rising in a glass of frost wine.
“Just go,” she says. “Ask away. I’m sure there’s something you want to know about me.”
I smile at her. There are so many things I want to know. Why is she working with the Towers? What do they want? Why didn’t they send an Exemplar to collect me? And what would it take to finally be free of the godsdamned Towers of Silver City?
And none of those are even close to acceptable questions for a woman I’m trying to seduce. So I take a sip of wine, stalling for time, and then ask the least imaginative question possible.
“Are you married?”
Kira lifts an eyebrow at me. “Is it a problem if I am?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question,” I say. “That’s cheating.”
She grins. “No, I’m not married. Are you?”
I contemplate taking a sip of wine instead of answering and letting her wonder, but I shake my head. “I’m not. Are you betrothed?”
She giggles again, a sound that makes me feel like I’ve just taken a shot of whiskey.
“I am completely, and in every way, romantically unattached,” she answers. “Does that answer your question?”
I meet her eyes and then, slowly, take a sip of wine. She stares at me before collapsing into another round of giggling.
“Okay,” she says, waving her hand at the space between us. “Your turn.”
I glance through the rain-streaked window, where the light is slowly fading from the gray sky. “Have you ever been in love?” I ask.
She frowns, and I realize too late that it’s a terrible question. I should be keeping things light and flirty, damn it, so that she’ll drop her guard, not trying to probe her life history.
“No,” Kira says, in a soft voice. She’s staring at the wineglass cupped in her hand as though the murky crimson pooled inside holds some sort of answer. “I mean, I’ve had plenty of lovers, but I never felt like one was any more special than another. It would be nice, I think. Falling in love.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. It’s a cruel sneer, a sound like the edge of a blade, and I regret it as soon as it’s out. Kira stares at me; I fumble to recover.
“It’s not nice at all,” I mutter.
“Oh? You’ve been in love?”
“Once,” I reply. A shiver runs down the back of my neck, and I twist my head, trying to shake the memories before they can swarm up and choke me. “Anyway. You’ve had plenty of lovers?”
Kira smiles again. Some of the chill creeping up my arms dissipates.
“Plenty,” she replies. “You too, I assume?”
“Is that your question?” I ask.
“Don’t answer a question with a question,” she chides, her eyes dancing in the dim gray light. “That’s cheating.”
I grin at her. “One,” I reply.
“Oh, bullshit!” she snaps as she slams her wineglass down on the windowsill.
“Is that your question?”
“There’s no way,” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t look like that, act like that, and only have had one lover. You’re such a liar.”
“I had no idea romantically unattached women in hunting lodges were so easy to offend,” I reply.
Kira looks like she’s trying not to smile as she refills her wineglass, then moves over and tops off mine. Her loose shirt falls open even further when she bends forward, which might be intentional. Either way, I lean forward to meet her. And to cover the bulge in my pants. Kira sips from her wineglass and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Let me guess,” she says. “This one partner you’ve had. She’s the one you loved?”
I force myself to smile, although my chest feels like a sliver of ice just lodged in there. And then I take a slow, deliberate sip of wine. Kira huffs, then tosses her hands in the air.
“Liar,” she mutters.
“Taking a drink isn’t lying,” I retort. “It’s literally how the game works. Remember? Answer the question, or drink.”
Kira looks like she’s contemplating slapping me. A sense of panic flutters inside my chest; this whole situation is getting away from me. I want to seduce her, damn it, not piss her off.
“But, as you seem to find that offensive,” I say as gently as I can manage, “we could make this more interesting?”
Kira cocks an eyebrow at me. It’s an expression that shouldn’t be so damned suggestive. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll bite. What’s your idea?”
I set my glass down on the windowsill. “No more wine,” I say. “Answer a question. Or kiss me.”
My heart freezes. I meant it to sound playful and suggestive, but there’s a moment of raw panic as Kira weighs my offer. Magic hisses under my skin. I pull it back. Finally, Kira’s lips curve into a smile.
“You want to kiss me?” she asks.
I lean forward, resting my hands on the mattress. Her eyes widen. I hesitate just long enough to let her pull away. She doesn’t. I shift forward and press my mouth to hers.
It’s just for a heartbeat, just long enough to brush my lips against the soft warmth of hers. Then I pull back, my eyes watching hers, my entire body tight and hard with anticipation.
Gods, the pull of it. I haven’t done this dance in ages. I used to be good at this, damned good, giving and taking pleasure as easily as drinking and laughing. But that was years ago. Before Lenore. Before the amulet.
Now, I feel too hot and too cold at the same time. This tiny room is pulsing around the corners, my cock is so stiff it aches, and I realize too late I should have avoided that second bottle of wine.
This all used to be part of it, toying with my own body along with everyone else’s, walking the knife’s edge of my limits. But now I feel like the knots I tried to tie have just fallen apart in my hands, and when I meet Kira’s pale blue eyes, I’m not sure who’s doing the seducing anymore.
And then she rocks forward and presses her lips to mine.