Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
“Idon’t need to explain anything to you,” he replied coolly, glowering at me.
“Hmmm.” I sloshed the potent liquor around in the bottle, taking another drink. “Suit yourself.”
His lids narrowed into slits, a nerve in his jaw twitching. “You’re blackmailing me?”
“Guess it depends on how bad you want this.” I forced down another large gulp, doing it more to piss him off than for the enjoyment. “It’s only coercion if you want this more than being a stubborn ass.”
A low rumble came from him, his hand sliding through his damp hair and scouring at his face. “You are a conniving little bitch.”
“Thank you.” I downed another sip, warmth moving through my limbs. On an empty stomach, it sank into my bloodstream like melted butter. “Now explain to me how you knew the jail would be attacked. Why Zander helped us escape? Why you helped me and where you’ve been all day?”
Warwick’s chest expanded in anger, using his build to loom over me. His lip rose, and he shook his head. “Fuck this.” He whipped around, heading for the door. I knew I lost my leverage, my clout over him oozing out like air from a popped balloon.
“Wait.” I started to climb off the bed. “Warwick, stop.” I stepped down and my leg gave out, sending me crashing to the floor with a thud, my tailbone smacking the floor.
“Jesus.” He flipped back to me, crouching down and grabbing my arms. “You realize you were shot in the leg, right? Try not walking on it for at least five minutes.” He heaved me back on the bed, scolding me like a toddler.
“What?” I opened my eyes up wide. “I was shot?” I did a dramatic double-take, looking down at my bandaged leg. “Oh, my gods! When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He grunted, rising to his full height. “You are hilarious,” he said, unsmiling.
Taking the palinka, I sucked more down, in real need of numbing the aches stabbing me like a voodoo doll. Knowing I lost the first round, I sighed, letting out my frustration. “Okay, how about we start easier.”
“Like?”
“You.” I motioned up to him. “I’ve heard about you since I can remember. What’s true? What is false? Are you fae? Human?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Can you answer any of them?”
“Yes.” He tilted his head. “And no.”
Collapsing my face into my palms, aggravation gurgled from my throat.
“What? I answered your question.”
“Yes and no? How is that answering it?”
“I’m human . . .” He reached for the bottle tucked between my thighs.
“What?” My mouth dropped open. “You’re human?”
“And fae.” He smirked, tipping the bottle into his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m one of those degrading mixed breeds. Someone tainting the purity of both races.” The derision crawled thickly over each word. “Part of the group that doesn’t fit in anywhere.”
Half-breeds were only accepted in the Savage Lands. Pure humans lived in Leopold, the elite looking down on those who would mix with the enemy, finding it vile and gross to be friendly to a fae, let alone bed one. The fae side felt the same about mixing with humans.
“But why weren’t you in a blue uniform? How come no one could figure out what you are?”
“Because I don’t belong there either,” he muttered before consuming half the bottle.
“What?”
“At one time, I was a half-breed.” He wiped at his mouth.
“One time?”
He shrugged, moving away from me, his fingers going to his wet pants, peeling them down his body, making my pulse skyrocket. His bare, perfectly sculpted, firm ass was so round I wanted to bite into it like a juicy apple.
“What are you doing?” Unable to tear my gaze away from his lower half on display, my heart pounded in my ears. The night in the shower together, I had been so distraught, I didn’t fully take in his physique. Damn, this man . . .
He peered over his shoulder as if he could sense my craving, catching me ogling his rear, roasting my cheeks into a deep char.
“They’re chafing because someone got them wet.” He lifted an eyebrow. Everything he did seemed to be doused in sex and danger, tapping into this deep feral need.
He stripped off his shirt, his muscular back flexing and twitching under his skin. A bandage covered one arm where he’d been shot, his tattoos and scars demanding my attention.
Fuuucck.
Turning away, I took in clipped breaths, trying to act as if he didn’t affect me, that his body didn’t make mine respond with raw need. My act was more for myself than him. His smirk told me he saw right through me.
“What did you mean?” I cleared my throat, my gaze sliding and darting back to him as he took a minuscule threadbare towel off the dresser, wrapped it around his waist, then moved to the window.
He flung his pants and shirt near the open frames to dry, then dropped down into the chair, propping his feet up on the bed, bottle in hand.
“You probably know more about me than I do.” He settled into the wingback.
He was not going to make this easy for me.
“One of the rumors is you died then came back to life.”
His mouth pinched together, his finger rubbing the lip of the bottle.
“True or not true?”
“Is there a third option?”
I rotated to face him, confused by his non-answer. “No.”
He adjusted, glancing out the window.
“True.”
My eyes bugged, ready for him to respond the opposite way.
“W-what? How?” That was the one thing neither human nor fae could escape. Death was death. “Was it only for a few moments?” It was possible to restart a heart within a reasonable period of time.
He squirmed again, clearly uncomfortable with this topic.
“No, I was dead.” He rubbed his temple, flinching as though he was reliving it. “I was stabbed, shot, gutted, and burned alive before someone snapped my neck.”
A small gasp caught in my throat.
“They really wanted to make sure I was dead.”
I didn’t move or breathe, not wanting him to stop.
“It was the night of the Fae War. Right before the final barrier fell, I was jumped by many enemies at once. A hunting party.” He stared out of the window, taking another drink.
“How is that possible?”
“Az en sotet démonom,” he muttered so low I was pretty sure I imagined him saying “my dark demon.”
My neck prickled at the name. I folded my legs to my chest. From what I heard and read of the Fae War, the night the barrier fell, battles raged throughout the world between those who were on Queen Aneira’s authoritarian side—who wanted to turn the humans into slaves—and those against her dictator reign, wanting to end her rule.
The fae crashed through the holes in the barrier as she tore it down, killing and attacking anyone on the other side, the flood of magic taking out millions of humans. One of those was my mom.
The day I came into this world was filled with death and blood.
“That’s my birthday.”
His gaze snapped to me.
“I was born the moment the final wall dropped. It was a very difficult birth . . . and I guess between me and the magic flooding in, my mother couldn’t take it.” I lowered my chin on my knee. “I killed my mother.”
He stared at me. For a second, I thought I sensed a taste of alarm and confusion, but quickly it disappeared. He pulled his eyes off me and turned his attention back to the bottle, guzzling more. He abruptly stood, strolling for the door.
“Are you leaving?” A panic I hated hearing in my voice called out to him. He ignored me, his hand on the knob. “Like that?” I motioned to his barely covered physique.
“It’s a whorehouse, Kovacs. I think I’m overdressed.
” He ripped the door open. Rosie stood there with her hand up like she was ready to knock, a bag in her other hand.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the mostly naked man, the towel not hiding the hard outline of him at all.
Her gaze slowly moved down him, a sensual smile glowing her eyes as she stopped right on his package.
“Wow,” she breathed, biting her lip.
“Thanks.”
“If you need any assistance with that . . .” She nodded at his cock, chewing on her lower lip.
“Really?” He leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes sliding back to me so fast I didn’t know if it happened.
“I mean, I am a professional.” She grinned up at him.
Irritation bloomed in my chest. I had the strange urge to slam the door on my new friend.
“Did you need something?” Clearing my throat overtly, Rosie’s attention snapped to me, her head shaking like she was stepping out of a trance.
“Oh, right.” She held up the bag. “Madam wanted me to bring this up to you. She figured you’d be starving and needing more to drink.”
Pushing off the frame, Warwick took the bag. “Damn, that woman is psychic. I was about to ask for someone to bring dinner.”
“It’s why she is where she is. She anticipates people’s needs before they do.” Rosie twirled her hair, her glazed eyes dreamily looking at him again. “We all do here.”
“Well, tell her I said thank you.” Warwick dipped his head at Rosie, stepping back, taking the bag over to the table.
Rosie sighed, inspecting his backside, practically drooling on the floor.
“Rosie,” I called her name, but it was as if she didn’t hear me, lost in him. “Rosie!”
She jumped, head whipping to me, her eyes going wide, looking bewildered.
She motioned to him that he was at fault.
Mouthing “sorry” to me, she gestured to her head, acting out like her brains were melting on the floor.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her theatrical pantomiming at the door, the actress in her showing.
“Anything else?” Warwick swung back around. Rosie stood straight, pretending like she wasn’t about to swoon to the floor.
“No. I’ll leave you two . . . alone.” She looked back and forth between us with a grin, reaching for the door.
“Oh right, Madam also said it would be better if you didn’t venture out tonight.
Some guests coming in tonight might be very keen on knowing you two are here.
Guess there is a high bounty for you both. ”
Warwick’s head dropped in understanding, the space between his eyes wrinkling. “Thank her again for us.”