Theo #2
The moment we were alone, she picked up her glass and chugged. Purple seeped into the corners of her mouth, which she licked up with her cute pink tongue before diving back in.
“Let’s discuss your alcohol tolerance.” I grabbed my glass and leaned back, taking a speculative sip. I’d been present for Faeryn’s introduction to Trebiannan booze and wasn’t about to risk carrying an unconscious goddess to an inn. That would make it very hard to fly under the radar.
“It’s decent.” Her eyes closed in bliss as she slowed down from her initial frenzy.
“You aren’t the first I’ve seen overestimate themselves.” I picked something relatively safe to test the waters. I wasn’t Mykie with her ridiculous Drooler order. Poor Faeryn.
“Can I try yours?”
“It’s strong.”
“So am I,” she assured, puffing out her rain-soaked chest.
A genuine grin pulled at my cheeks. Her spunky attitude wasn’t what I expected from the divine, but I was smitten.
When was the last time someone had been this interesting?
Lively? The spark of her life was so vibrant.
Her laughter a blissful hymn. The most beautiful crystals glittered in her pale blue eyes.
I passed her the drink and watched with interest as her plump lips wrapped around the rim of the glass to sip. Right where my lips had just been. She failed to mask her wince when she tasted the liquor.
“Good?” I asked.
“Good,” she confirmed, her voice sounded strained. She was absolutely holding in a cough. “Thanks for sharing. Want to try some of mine?”
Her drink was common. I knew what it tasted like. “Please.” My fingers brushed hers as we traded glasses. “It’s tasty,” I confirmed when I caught her expectant expression after I sipped.
“So, Mercurians are the ones with the colorful tattoos, right?” She looked toward our waiter as they helped another table.
It was an interesting way to describe the markings, but I understood what she meant.
Mercurians had large cracks in their skin that revealed their vibrant interior colors.
Our waiter’s “plasma” was cyan. Of course, “plasma” was a popular misconception of the uneducated—most people on Trebianna.
In reality, it was concentrated mist, rolling to a bubble when trapped under the layers of their faux skin.
It was extremely toxic when concentrated into a liquid, but mildly euphoric in its natural gaseous state.
Of course, that state was only present when the Mercurian was feral.
I had to learn about how it all worked as a hitman.
Killing them could be fatal to the attacker if they were splattered with “blood”.
“Right.” I didn’t want to entertain conversations like this in public. She should save her foreign curiosity for when we had privacy. “Let’s review our shopping list for tomorrow,” I changed the topic.
My stomach growled loudly when I saw our dinner approaching.
I hadn’t been eating nearly enough for the manual labor I’d been putting in over the last several days.
I’d given most of the meat rations to her beast hoping it’d grow with extra protein, and I felt bad raiding Vivian’s rations.
A handful of berries a few times per day was fine. I didn’t need more to eat.
One of my biggest lessons from being a successful hitman was that I didn’t need anything.
“Theo, it’s pizza!” Vivian exclaimed, gawking at the white and yellow yeast melt over unleavened bread, chopped vegetables scattered on top.
“Is that good?”
“I could kiss you.”
That sounded like it was good.
I was happy she was pleased. Although I prayed to whatever god might hear me that this female would stop proposing physical affection in exchange for her meals. I quieted my tongue, so ready to snap back with a flirty remark.
I was promised more than a kiss for that drink, Little Goddess.
“Room availability?” I asked the Lychan at the inn reception desk.
“We got one left. Twenty gold for the night,” she responded, a claw tracing the pages of her check-in book.
Fuck. We needed two rooms. Obviously.
My eyes panned to Vivian, who was craning her neck to look up the dim flight of stairs in the back left corner of the lobby.
“You aren’t gonna find availability anywhere else,” the Lychan sighed. “Lotta folks have come from out of town to restock since last winter.”
I doubted that. We were well into the summer season.
She probably just didn’t want us to take our business elsewhere.
Then again… it was late. Storms were kicking up, ear splitting thunder rattled the loosely hung picture frames on the walls.
And hopping inn-to-inn looking for availability wasn’t ideal for covert travel.
“Of course,” I conceded. “That’ll be perfect.”
I paid our dues and took the aged bronze room key.
Vivian chirped a “thank you” at the inn keeper as we made our way up the creaky stairs.
The inn was small. Unsurprising since this was such an out-of-the-way town.
There were four doors directly upstairs, numbered accordingly.
That was it. Three had hanging signs flipped to “occupied”.
I went to room four, turned our sign to match the others, and pushed the door open.
“Oh my god, a bed!” Vivian cried out, stepping to the edge of the mattress and falling face-first into it with her arms sprawled above her head.
“That I might turn my attention to that which is sacred”: the familiar prayer echoed in my mind as I averted my eyes to the ceiling.
I lived alone. I traveled alone. I only ever shared a bed with a female for one reason, and it was hard to clear that from my mind once this goddess threw her ass into the air and moaned in pleasure when she buried her face into the bedding.
Every red-blooded instinct in me insisted I crawl on top of her and claim my prize for buying that drink.
She’d buried the seed in my mind, it had grown, and I couldn’t rip it out by the roots.
This was much deeper than surface-level lust. She was breathtaking.
I wanted to make her content, pleased, happy.
I admired her as a goddess and as a can-do female who was bright and sharp and strong.
She amused me; I wasn’t faking my smiles around her.
I had no other choice than to be sinfully smitten.
Whatever she planted inside of me had latched onto my fucking heart.
“Theo, you have got to feel how soft this mattress is.”
“I need to use the restroom,” I grumbled, stepping into the bathroom with our bag still strapped to my back.
I closed the door behind me, shrugging it to the ground and looking at myself in the mirror. Just as brutish as ever. Scarred. Tattooed to always be feral. We must look like an odd couple together.
I splashed water from the copper sink onto my face, trying to snap myself out of the spell I was under. I needed to rinse off and give her a turn in the bathroom so we could pass the fuck out for the night. Twenty hours of foot-travel was excessive, even for me. Half of the damn day.
In place of a tub, there was a waterspout in the ceiling with a drain underneath it. The washing area was sectioned off from the tile by brick. A rural makeshift shower.
I turned the nozzle and peeled off my clothes. Not entirely wet anymore, but grimy as all hell. I tossed them into the sink to soak while I cleaned up, planning to scrub and airdry them afterwards.