Chapter 29 #2
Rosie dipped her head and shut the door.
“Guess we should be honored we already have bounties on our heads.” I rubbed my arms, a chill running down my skin. Spending all day recovering in this place made me forget about what was going on outside these walls.
“Yeah, when I went out earlier, the streets were swarming with fae soldiers.”
“Many of us escaped last night, right? There must be a lot of criminals they want to recapture.”
Warwick huffed, turning his back to me. He pulled out the items in the bag, and the smell of noodles and sauce curled in my nose, my stomach clenching with hunger pains.
“They are only after us.”
“Us?” I repeated. “Why just us?”
Silence.
“Where did you go today?”
“Got rid of the bike,” he said, opening one of the cartons and sniffing.
“It took you all day?”
“No.” Warwick turned around, handing me a carton of noodles, my mouth watering at the container of pad thai, forgetting everything else.
“Oh gods, this looks so good.” Not waiting for him to hand me a utensil, I scooped up the noodles, dumping them into my mouth, half of them hanging out, dripping down my chin.
“Go slow.” He tossed a fork on the bed next to me. “Your stomach is not used to a lot of food, and it will retaliate if you try to stuff it too fast. Believe me.”
I heard him, but the taste of the delicious noodles spurred me to eat more. It felt like years since I had proper food.
“I warned you.” He grabbed a new palinka bottle out of the bag, his carton in the other, and fell back into the chair, digging into his meal.
“Shit, this is so good.” I moaned, thinking I would actually orgasm right there. His gaze drew up to mine, his lids narrowed. “What?”
He grabbed the liquor, pouring it down his throat until it was a quarter gone.
“Jesus. Who is the one who needs to slow down?” I stuffed more food into my mouth, another groan escaping my lips.
He muttered so low I couldn’t hear him and shifted in his chair like he was uncomfortable.
“Why do you think they are only after us?” I garbled through the food in my mouth, getting another huge bite ready.
“I just know.” He rammed a full fork into his mouth.
“What else did you have to do earlier?”
He continued to eat, not answering me. This seemed to be the theme tonight. Switching tactics, I went back to the topic he seemed open to.
“Why did you say you used to be a half-breed? That doesn’t make sense.”
He stabbed at his noodles, taking a deep exhale. “I died, and when I came back, I was different.”
“Different? How?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try. My human brain will attempt to keep up.” I rubbed my stomach, feeling it gurgle.
“Just different. Can’t really explain it.”
“Wow, you’re right, I will need it dumbed down for me.”
He shot me a look, then turned back to the window. Darkness was creeping into the room. The activity in the street and in Kitty’s was picking up, music and voices flittering through the thin walls and windows. This seedy part of the city was coming to life.
The wall he kept slamming between us like a drawbridge had gone up again. I knew when I was losing a battle.
“Last question tonight.” I moved, my stomach squeezing with discomfort, nausea flooding over my tongue. “What was the reason you got locked up in Halalház?”
The side of his lips pulled up as he leaned his head back in the chair. For some reason, a spike of fear licked at the back of my neck.
“Repayment.”
“And that means?”
“I tracked down all the people who had killed me . . . one being the fae king’s right-hand man. In the end, he fell just the same as the rest. They got to feel everything I felt.”
“You did the same back to them?” I sucked in, the wavy sensation in my stomach slouching more. Stabbed, shot, gutted, burned, and a broken neck.
“And strung them all up as a warning.” His eyes burrowed into mine as if he was seeing if I’d run from the room.
I didn’t. “It took you twenty years?”
“No, it took me five. It took the guards twelve to track me down.”
He had been locked away in Halalház for three years. And survived. I probably should have feared him, but I felt strangely calm. Serene in his presence.
My stomach had other ideas.
“Oh, gods . . .” My hand went to my mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.” Not even feeling the ache in my leg, I tore off for the bathroom. I heard his laugh follow me down the hall.
“I warned you.”
Asshole.
“It’s hot, right? I’m hot.” My mouth moved without much input from my brain. Everything felt toasty and happy.
My stomach ejected the food quickly but settled once it was back to being empty again, forbidding me to add anything except liquid.
I lay on the bed, suckling on the mostly empty bottle, mourning the waste of my tasty dinner, while Warwick finished off his meal and the rest of mine.
At least I had a nice buzz, a really, really nice one, taking the edge off the pain, worry, and most of all, him.
Nighttime was in full bloom, the house and passage below thriving with activity. Music, laughter, glasses clinking, smells of food, body odor, perfumes, and cigarettes crammed through the open window, battling for dominance.
I could hear the girls already shouting down at pedestrians passing by, encouraging them to indulge in their wildest fantasies.
“What do you want, pretty boy? Fae, half-breed, or human? Male or female? On top or underneath? Against the wall or over a table? Chains or feathers? Any way you want it,” a woman purred down above us.
“How about all my friends and me? It’s his birthday,” a youthful boy’s voice hooted up.
“Ugh.” I swallowed, no longer feeling the burn of the shoddy liquor, each sip glossing the room in a haze.
Warwick scoffed, pouring back his own shot, his attention out the window. He began to slump down more into the chair with every chug he took.
“What?” I struggled to push myself higher against the headboard, my muscles limp and floppy.
“You really are uptight and prissy, princess.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Stop being so judgmental.”
“About a bunch of boys wanting to chain bang a girl?” I flung my hand toward the window. “Sorry, I really am awful.”
“No.” He shook his head. “About the fact she fucks for money.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Please. I can feel—” he cleared his throat, gesturing to me. “See it all over your face. Your nose wrinkles every time you hear them in the hallway or calling out.”
“Didn’t know I was being monitored so closely.” My ears heated with guilt. Did I do that? I couldn’t deny I was uncomfortable being around prostitutes. Meeting people such as Rosie, who made this place feel so normal, was kind of unsettling.
He flicked his eyes, peering back outside. “Guess you can’t help it. Though really, as someone coming from prison, who are you to judge?”
“I’m not.” I so was. “Prostitution is severely frowned on in my world. I’m sorry if I’m having trouble adapting instantly. Plus, prison wasn’t a choice. This is.”
“You think what they do is a choice?” he snapped back. Wagging his head, he returned to the window, quietly drinking, his attention feeling far away and haunted.
Picking at the label, his silence curled around us, choking the air. Several minutes passed before he spoke.
“I was born in a whorehouse,” he muttered, making me freeze with his admittance.
“Nothing as nice as this one. Back then, life was even more cruel and unkind to women trying to survive. Especially those who didn’t come from money, weren’t married, and had been abandoned and pregnant. It’s not a choice. It’s survival.”
My teeth dove into my bottom lip, not sure how to respond.
“I was ten when she died of syphilis.”
“I’m sorry.” I curled my good leg closer to my chest, understanding the effects of losing a parent.
“It was a long time ago.”
“How long?” I tried not to slur, my mouth not working as fast as my head. I was curious about how old he was. To humans, age mattered, to fae it didn’t. I wasn’t sure how half-breeds aged.
His blue eyes slid to mine, his lip curling up. “Subtle.”
“What?” I feigned innocence, but a wicked smile hinted on my lips. Damn, he was so sexy. Was the room humid? Why was it tilting?
“You think you’re the first to try and figure out how long I’ve been around?”
“No,” I retorted, really feeling the alcohol cloud my head. “But for some reason, you have this unexplainable need to tell me.”
I was flirting, wasn’t I? What the hell was wrong with me?
His head tipped back in laughter, and goosebumps vibrated my flesh. He rubbed his brow, chuckling to himself.
“I’ll just say I’m a lot older than you.” He smirked. “You should get some sleep. You’re drunk.”
“Am not.”
“Go to sleep, Kovacs.”
“Is that an order, Grandpa?” I narrowed my lids, swaying as I took another drink in defiance.
“If you want it to be.” His tone was neutral, but I felt the implication race up my thighs. “They have a lot of whips, handcuffs, and rope here.” His gaze burrowed into me then roamed my barely clad form. “If it’s the only way you will listen.”
Yes!
Nooo!
Brexley, I chided myself, pulling my gaze down to the bedspread. You are lonely and drunk. Go to sleep.
Annoyed he thought he could tell me what to do, I almost kept drinking just to vex him but knew I was simply hurting myself. My head already flinched with tomorrow’s headache.
“Then you should too.” Oh yeah, stick it to him, Brex.
“Was planning on it.”
“Fine,” I said, very maturely slamming the bottle on the nightstand. I rolled my hair into a bun and curved onto my side away from him. I could feel his eyes on me. Squeezing my lashes together, I attempted to block him out.
It didn’t work.
Opting for another strategy, I switched off the lamp on the table, plunging the room into obscurity, feeling the need to hide.
Lights from outside stretched shadows across the room like ghosts.
If I thought the dark would shield me, I was sorely mistaken.
His presence in the corner seemed to grow.
The night only emphasized the sound from inside and out.