18. Vessa
18
Vessa
T onight was different. I felt a sense of freedom as I roamed through the crowd. Maybe it was the confinement of a mask and the relief that hit once I pulled it down. Everyone seemed pleasantly engaged with one another. I dragged my gaze away from a man and woman, who were nothing but clashing mouths and roaming hands as I squeezed past them, smiling in passing. There were candlelit alcoves lining the wall and deep crimson wallpaper with a dark damask design sprawling across the entire room, giving the whole tavern an elegant appearance in its own ominous way. A vast difference from the other taverns I had been to. There weren’t any windows, which explained the overuse of candles.
“Not a shithole this time, Shadow,” Pa said, sipping on his drink as he took in the crowd. The amber liquid reminded me of shimmering gold as it peeked through his gloved fingers. “Shithole,” was usually our way of indicating if there were any leads to the tonic or not, but tonight, he really just meant this place was nice. A memory of him and Ma pushed to the front of my mind. They’d always ended their day by the fire with a drink in their hands, quietly talking beneath the stars.
His gray bandana hung low upon his neck, and when he smiled, the creases in his eyes overlapped just a little. He looked…happy for once.
“Definitely not. You did good this time,” I said, patting his arm.
He chuckled. “The whiskey goes down just right,” he said, facing the bar as he waved the boy down for another.
Shortly after, he reached for the inside of his pocket and pulled out a vial of tonic. I quickly slipped it into my pocket. Then he handed me a key. “Let me show you where we will be staying tonight.”
I nodded. I could only imagine how elaborate the rooms would be if the tavern looked like this. My body ached for a bath, a nice hot one with steam curling into the air and a cup of coffee on a table nearby.
I had felt Ryder’s stare the whole time as I walked away, and I let the bastard have his fill. But I didn’t need to look behind me to know he had already left.
Pa grabbed his drink, and I followed him down a poorly lit corridor, save for the few sconces in need of new candles. For a second, I thought our luck had run out. The smoke-filled hall had a musky scent that made me want to pinch my nose, but when he led me up the stairs, it smelled like roses. It was a whole other atmosphere up here.
Golden sconces lined the corridor, and an antique table with a few old books stood every ten feet or so. One in particular stuck out: a royal blue book gilt with a golden spine with two clashing swords above the title. I slowed my pace to observe the cover, a picture of a woman with long, flowing hair holding two moons facing opposite directions. I couldn’t read very well, but I still found comfort between the pages. Maybe tonight, I would try to read it. I quickly opened my coat and slipped it beneath my arm. Pa snuck a glance my way and smiled.
The walls were a deep turquoise with ornate crown molding and an intricate trim carved out of mahogany wood.
“I’ll be here.” He pointed to room thirty-seven. Then at the end of the hall, he pointed to Ryder’s. “That’s his, and up those stairs are yours. I got you the suite.”
Of course he did.
“Why do you always do this?” I asked, smiling faintly, even though I felt I didn’t deserve any of it.
“Because, you deserve it,” he replied as if sensing my own thoughts.
“Are my eyes that readable?” I smirked.
“Too readable.” He tilted his hat. “If looks could kill, Raven and Ryder be damned.” With that, he winked.
I swallowed hard and blinked back.
Yup, his words were like a punch to the gut.
I watched him disappear into his room as I was left standing in the corridor with flushed cheeks and a thrumming pulse. I belong to no one.
My eyes widened as I entered my room—a large space that had an already lit hearth off to the side next to a plum purple settee with a rolled and tufted back. I sat down on the plush cushion, running both hands down the fabric.
Velvet.
On the other side of this area were a set of chairs and a table leading to a private washroom with mahogany sliding doors. Against the half wall was a king-sized bed and a side table full of fresh pastries. A welcoming pot of coffee greeted me, steaming into the air.
No matter what Pa thought, I didn’t deserve any of this.
I spent the next hour scrubbing my skin raw and dousing my hair with the floral liquid, massaging it until I felt no more speckles of dirt. I enjoyed my warm cup of coffee, occasionally reaching out of the clawed tub for a sip, uncaring if I was being messy.
I put on a clean button-up top, leaving the last few buttons undone, and slipped on a pair of black cotton pants that fit me like a glove and hugged just above my navel. I sighed in delight as I slipped on a fresh pair of socks. The relief was short-lived as I immediately put my boots back on. I could never fully sleep without them, always feeling like I had to be ready to go if need be.
I pulled back the curtain by the table and looked out into the sandy, ivory roads. The sun was setting, casting a fiery glow over the entire town.
There was a knock at my door—four quick taps. Keeping tendrils of magic at my fingertips, I quickly strode over and opened it.
“Hello, Desert Storm.” Ryder stood in the hall with something behind his back and a smirk that had my brow curling. I quickly observed that he too was in fresh clothes, hair still slightly damp, wet tips brushing against the black, sleeveless shirt that clung to his body. He looked and smelled divine. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”
My heart unexpectedly sped up.
I crossed my arms and shifted a hip to the side. There was an odd, mischievous glint to his blue eyes.
“I’m too tired to give you a rope-tying lesson,” I said facetiously.
He grunted and, in the same breath, held out a freshly baked pie between us.
My brows knit in confusion as I slowly read the tag aloud. “For…Molly. Who’s Molly?” I said, looking up at him. No matter who she was, it was enough to let him enter. I stepped to the side.
He smirked as he walked through the doorway, looking around to find the table, the spurs to his cowboy boots clanking with every stride.
“Some sad little widow, I guess.” The cadence of his voice had a wicked smile curving my lips.
“Well, I guess I’m not the only evildoer around here.”
“You know what they said back in the good ol’ days: every evil queen needs a consort.” He pulled out a chair and playfully dusted off the seat as if shining it for me.
I scoffed. “Are you trying to butter me up?” I arched my brow.
“Yes.” He did not hesitate. It caught me off guard so much that it was likely obvious I was blushing.
“Your knife or mine?” He wiggled his brows in a way that had me giggling.
I pulled out my knife and served us a slice. I was just finishing my second piece when I bit something hard that nearly cracked my tooth. “What the fuck?” I rushed into the washroom, spitting out what was left in my mouth and immersing my hand into a small basin of water. I swished it around until something solid struck the bottom.
“You have to be kidding me,” I paused. My jaw hung open as the water revealed a ring; a silver band with a piece of our Eternal stone smoothed into the shape of a circle, its swirls of amber and bloodstone glinting in the light.
I walked out in pure silence.
“What is it?” Ryder slowly stood and walked toward me.
“I don’t think Molly was a widow. She was about to be proposed to .”
“Well I guess that explains why he was all fancied up,” Ryder said. A laugh rumbled in his chest as we stood outside the washroom, staring at each other wide-eyed. He cupped a tanned hand over his mouth and then combed it through his hair. In unison, we erupted in laughter. My brows hit my hairline, still in disbelief.
“You are quite evil, Ryder.” I sat in the chair, eyeing the circular stone. As I looked, something started to take shape. The amber formed a crescent moon while the bloodstone emulated the dark side of it.
I hummed.
“Wait here,” I said. I felt his curious stare as I rummaged through my bag. When I sat in front of him, his eyes remained on the thin leather string I held in my hands, still following my every move. I hung it over his neck, measuring out the length until it stopped at the center of his chest, right between those sinful, hardened pecs. I ignored what the sight did to me as I pulled my knife out and cut the string, threading it through the band.
“Can I?”
“Now you suddenly have manners?” he playfully asked. “You may do anything you want to me, Desert Storm. Your imagination is the limit.” His husky voice sent my pulse thrumming. Again, he’d caught me off guard.
The ends of his dark, tousled hair gently brushed against the side of his neck as his head tipped back, watching me slowly rise with a lust-filled gaze. Licking my lower lip, I leaned closer. He tensed as I stood caged between his muscled thighs, the slight motion sending my heart fluttering.
I swallowed.
His thighs brushed against my hips, hard and sturdy from years of riding.
His fists clenched, the rough skin squeezing together as if he was stopping his hands from roaming. His breath fanned across my chest, dangerously close to where my heart lay. With very little effort, he slipped through the cracks while a warmth ignited deep below my belly, eliciting an ache between my thighs. As I tied the new necklace around his neck, I felt the cords in his muscles tighten and flex some more.
He looked down at the ring and held it in his hand.
“A little something to remember me by when your job is done.”
His smile waned into something unreadable—maybe sadness?
“Thank you,” was all he said. Words that sounded foreign on his lips.
“Since when are you a polite gentleman?” It was a loaded question.
“Who said I am?” His voice was sultry and full of smoke.
I leaned back slightly so our eyes met. My gaze swept across his beautiful face and that half grin. I finished tying the string, now hyperaware of what I had elicited within him. There was no time to hesitate; the flames were already ablaze in his eyes. I became the moth, drawn to him, wanting to lose myself in the entirety of who he was. To push aside the resistance I held between us. I wanted to know what it felt like to have his tongue trace the seam of my lips, to know if he would be rough, or soft and gentle. Maybe this whole tough-guy appearance was a facade. I wanted to break through because the curiosity was stronger than the desire to keep him at a distance.
The urgency for his embrace was like stepping into an overturned hourglass. Time was running out. I couldn’t place these emotions surging through me as I stared into his pale-blue eyes, watching the shadows lurking beneath his own hidden past. We were always on some sort of borrowed time. In this moment, I didn’t want to think about it any longer. I swung my leg over his hip, then the other, straddling him like I was ready to ride as the anticipation sent my body thrumming.
“Have you ever kissed the devil?” Ryder said, tilting his head back to meet my gaze.
The center of my chest skittered at his words, like the end of a blade along my mark, eliciting the umbra in challenge.
“Sweetheart, I am the devil.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. The moment he released his fists, he wasted no time as he cupped my ass and jerked me forward. He was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
As we shared the same breath, his hand roamed up my back.
He stared at me, long and hard. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he’d changed his mind, that maybe I wasn’t his type. But he trailed his hand along the scars of my arm, the flesh that often reminded me of everything I had lost. The same scars that made me feel less alive because I’d always thought, for some damn reason, I was cursed. Maybe I was, but he did not shudder away. His hand slid up to my face, eyes holding a lustful gaze.
His chest rose and fell as he cupped the back of my head, a firm grip because he knew I was not delicate. He crashed his lips into mine, kissing me, deep and claiming, sending an awareness up and down my body, savoring every moment. He was rough as he pressed against me, and with a stroke of his tongue, I opened to him, moaning against his mouth. He tasted like spearmint, a hint of licorice, and whiskey. It was a welcoming coolness against my heated flesh.
Then he pulled away, leaving us in a heaving mess, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. As if what he was entangled with wasn’t real.
“You are quite the dream,” he whispered before claiming my lips again. My head fell back as he kissed up and down the side of my neck, licking just below the soft part of my ear. I moaned in response as his length pressed against my very center, the precision too fucking accurate.
Gods-damn, has he been hard this entire time?
The magic coursing through him was a call to my own as it lingered, waiting in the middle of the room for a dance. The sensation hummed against my chest as tiny orbs of light moved around us. Ryder filled my head with the most tangible, indecent thoughts. I gave him a small thread of my magic, allowing his to brush against mine. That little tendril was enough to make my heart skip a beat, and then another. It was a light shrouded by a darkness, memories he kept alive by stoking the flame. A fire he never wanted to burn out. It willed him to keep moving forward, pushing those boundaries to the brink. I didn’t want to open my eyes or lose sight. I wanted to see and feel everything, but then he closed the connection, drawing back as I wanted to push forward.
“Who are you?” I whispered, my chest tightening. He mulled over the question with another bruising kiss.
“I’m just yours, for now.”
I laughed softly against his mouth.
“As I said before, darlin’, I am far from a gentleman,” he said in a husky voice, rising to his feet while still keeping my center aligned with his. The motion made him exhale into the crook of my neck as he nibbled on my flesh.
“You shouldn’t have opened that door,” he warned, “because I’m about to lose all manners and ravish you wholly. And when I’m done with you, you might consider being mine for a while longer. Or you might see me for the devil I truly am.”
I dragged my gaze to meet his stare, grinning at his swollen and red lips, which likely matched my own. “You can call me yours all you want, demon, but I belong to no one,” I said, combing my fingers through his hair. It was thick and soft, just like I had imagined.
Ryder growled in response, taking it as a challenge as he carried me over to the bed and brought me down onto the mattress. My back was enveloped in a soft duvet blanket as he pressed his hard body against me. He chuckled darkly. “You will return to me, you’ll see.” His mouth clashed with mine.
The necklace I’d given him fell against my chest. I looked down to find it resting right where my mark was, then looked back up at him. I whispered against his lips. “Is this how you usually thank someone when they give you something?” I teased, tugging on the thin, black, leather thread.
He stilled as he caged me between his arms, his long hair showering over us. My fingers traced every curve of his muscles, running along his shoulders, gripping his biceps. He watched me explore as I kissed the inner part of his arm, fully acknowledging this was a choice that I could finally make. One that had no ties. Whatever this was, whoever he was going to be, for now, this was mine, and it was here for the taking.
He rolled his hips, pressing his length against my very center as I brought him down for another kiss. I enjoyed the feeling of his scruff rubbing my face. He was the perfect blend of rough and soft. It was maddening. His lips brushed across my skin as he moved lower on the bed. He kissed the swells of my breasts, licking the flesh between them in long, languid strokes. My body trembled beneath his touch. He cupped his mouth over the thin fabric of my top, right over my nipple, drawing out another moan that made his gaze flick to mine. His eyes reminded me of cerulean flames, and again I was that moth.
The fist that pounded at the door sent my heart slamming against my chest.
I growled in response, but Ryder kept going as if the knocking didn’t phase him. I think he knew from the annoyed look in my eyes who was on the other side of that door. He pulled down my top, exposing a breast to the night air, and cupped his mouth over my nipple, flicking his tongue as a distraction. My head tilted back as my hips thrust against the bulge of his cock. He was big, so fucking big, the pulse between my thighs grew to an agonizing ache. Ryder’s eyes bore through me, finding pleasure in watching how I reacted to his every touch. He chuckled darkly, a groan full of satisfaction as his lips ghosted over my nipple once more, finishing with another tantalizing lick.
The knocks ascended to an aggressive banging.
“Fuck off! I’m busy!” I yelled, but I had to roll Ryder off me.
“Fuck indeed,” he growled.
I fixed my top as I darted for the door with tendrils of darkness coiling around my hips and arms. With extra force, I swung the door wide open.
Raven stood in the doorway, jaw fluttering as if he’d been grinding his teeth this entire time. “We are ready to discuss our plans.”
“Well, I’m not,” I hissed. I went to slam the door, but he stopped it midway.
“ He is.”
“I don’t give a fuck .”
“Well maybe you should, Vessa .”
By then, Ryder was already standing behind me with heat and lust still radiating off his body. I glanced over my shoulder, observing the sheer mess, and the realization of what we’d been doing was written all over Raven’s face.
“Read between the lines, asshole. She said fuck off.” Ryder’s eyes were bloodshot, possibly seconds from tearing Raven’s head off with his teeth. He pressed his body against my back and leaned an arm against the doorframe. My heart fluttered at the motion.
“You don’t want to fight someone like me, cowboy. I will end you where you stand,” Raven warned with a darkness coating his words, one I didn’t often see.
“We might be bound, Raven, but you do not own my life. Neither does Pa. Tell that old man that if he bought me the best room this place had to offer, then he should let me fucking enjoy it for once. I’ll come out when I’m ready.”
The tension was suddenly broken by the shrill cries of a woman. It was common for towns to have distant gunshots, showdowns, and fist fights in the middle of the road, but her cries pulled me away. I rushed over to the window, hearing a man yelling right outside the tavern. When I peered out, tears were streaming down her kohl-stained face. “You’re my wife, woman . Do as I fucking say.”
For a moment, I wanted to help. The adrenaline from watching two brute men argue kept the shadows curling around my wrists, but when I sensed no glamor on her ears, I sighed and took a step back, closing the curtains in the process.
My eyes briefly shut as a pang of guilt tried to take root. Humans did not deserve remorse.
The mood was gone.
Especially as Raven stood in the doorway, waiting to see what I would do.
While the bird and the cowboy played their game of death glares, I stepped in front of Ryder, peering up into Raven’s eyes, noticing the satisfaction, because in some fucked up way, he knew he’d won.
“I’m walking out the door because it is my choice to make.” I pointed a finger at him, but I went back for my pie, aggressively grabbing it off the table. No matter what Pa had to say, he had to know that asking and telling were two completely different things. I would not bend to the whim of anyone, but I was also a sucker, because this pie was so gods-damn good and I knew he’d love it. It would smooth over any growing tension. I pushed past Raven and went to room thirty-seven.