Chapter 7 Respite
Respite
Even though we should be safe in Sanctuary, I swing the door open and cautiously step into the room.
To the right, a fire crackles merrily in the small hearth, bathing everything with a cozy light.
As inn accommodations go, it’s better than standard.
Possibly because one night a lowly guild journeyman might need a room, but the next night it might be a wealthy merchant, or a powerful politician.
They’d never know who to expect. Tonight, it’s an unlikely pair: a former Shabah assassin and a member of an influential Merchant Guild family. Founder help us.
The place is spotless, and unlike my room at the other inn, there are two armless chairs tucked against a sturdy wooden table just inside the door.
There’s a built-in wardrobe on the far wall and a full-length mirror beside it.
On the other side of the fireplace is a doorway which likely leads to a bathroom.
With a flick of my fingers, I cast a light spell into that space, confirming my assumption.
There’s a toilet, shower, and sink, but no one lurks in the dark.
Relaxing slightly, I snuff out the light, set the wine on the table, and walk further into the room.
My eyes drift to the large bed that can easily accommodate two average-sized adults comfortably, if closely.
It’s situated directly across from the fire, near enough to benefit from its warmth without being stifling.
A definite benefit when spending extensive periods of time unclothed, which I hope to be doing very soon.
With that in mind, I turn to see Nicolas enter the room and quietly shut the door.
He leans against it with his back to the sturdy oak planks, half of his face hidden in shadow while the flickering light from the fire illuminates the other half.
It makes it difficult to read his expression.
Is he having second thoughts? Only letting his eyes grow accustomed to the low light?
“We have the beautiful glow of the firelight, so your first request is covered.” I step to the center of the room and raise my hands to the clasp of my cloak.
With a flick of my fingers, I unhook it, letting it slide off my shoulders to pool on the floor.
My shirt quickly follows as Nicolas’s eyes hungrily track my movements.
I’m used to lovers’ appreciative looks, but under his gaze, a warm flush spreads through me, and it’s not from the fire.
“As for request number two—“ I raise my hands, gliding them along my bare torso, drawing lazy circles over my skin with the tips of my fingers. My eyes drift closed as I enjoy my own touch. And there’s a pleasure in performing for Nicolas’s benefit.
After all, it’s important to let your partner know what you enjoy, and touch is definitely high on my list.
I smooth my hands down my abdomen and slip them beneath the waist of my loose cotton pants.
“I’m here for the taking.” Nicolas watches me with interest but still hasn’t moved away from the door.
What’s he waiting for? This isn’t a contracted job.
Or a job at all. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to finding out more about where he fits in the Medina power structure.
But no one is forcing either of us to be here, and I won’t beg him to sleep with me.
I consider my options. There are many, many others who would gladly change places with him.
But I am disappointed. And that shocks me.
I haven’t been celibate since I was with Kas.
I’ve slept with plenty of people. And I liked quite a few of them.
Not romantically, but as individuals. However, if they weren’t interested, it wasn’t anything to be upset over.
Not that I’m upset. Sex would have been a pleasant way to learn more about him and his family. That’s all.
Though it would only be fair to allow him one more opportunity to reconsider.
Slowly, I push the waist of my pants lower, stopping just past the tops of my hips, giving him a good view of my entire torso.
Nicolas focuses on my hands as he faces me.
His pupils are blown wide, his pulse hammering in his neck, and I get an odd rush of excitement mixed with relief.
That’s definitely interest there. So why is he still leaning against the door?
I’m about to suggest he move closer when I catch the slight widening of his eyes as his wandering gaze catches on one particular spot on my torso and then settles on my palm.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m an idiot. Nicolas has Clear Sight.
There’s no doubt now. While I have tattoos all over my body, most were created with common inks.
The few Shabah tattoos, the ones that enhance our magic, are drawn with enchanted onyx-infused inks that are only visible to those in the Brotherhood. Or those with Clear Sight.
On high alert, I assess Nicolas’s position, calculate his body weight and the most efficient means to subdue him if he attacks.
Then I remember where we are. This is neutral ground.
With more effort than I’d like to admit, I rein in my instincts.
Not only am I a Specter, a Shabah Master Assassin, we’re in Sanctuary.
If Nicolas breaks the accord by attacking me, and I let him live, there will be at least a dozen Enforcers in this room within minutes.
It also means I can’t harm him. First, anyway.
Regardless, his body language is also all wrong for an attack.
Even a surprise one. His breathing is too fast. His fingers flex, but not near his weapons.
It’s almost as if he wants to touch but won’t allow himself that pleasure.
And isn’t that a shame. My calm returns, and a smug smile tugs at my lips.
“Nico.” I run my fingertips along the waist of my pants, and his gaze follows.
“Do you mind if I call you Nico? Nicolas is lovely, but so formal.”
It takes a minute for my question to register. He tears his gaze from my torso to meet my eyes, and I’m gifted with a lovely view of his lust-blown pupils. “I do not mind.” His voice is deliciously rough. “My friends sometimes call me that.”
I acknowledge the hypervigilant voice in my mind sending me warning signals.
I’m grateful for it. It’s why I’m still alive.
And truthfully, Nico is a huge gamble. There are too many unknowns, too many variables.
Including his friends and family. Allowing myself to be this vulnerable with a complete stranger is risky.
Staying here with this particular stranger is irrational, and I should leave.
But I adore playing with fire. And while my training insists I’m in danger, my gut says Nico isn’t a threat.
Not directly. If anything happens, it won’t be through his hand.
And I won’t ignore my gut again. That’s what got Kas killed.
“Well, Nico.” I lift my arms away from my body, and in a sign of trust, I turn in a slow circle, offering myself for his appraisal.
“Do you like what you see?” I keep my voice low, laced with promises of pleasure.
When I make the full circuit, I stop and meet his gaze.
Finally, he shoves away from the door and closes the distance between us.
I hold still and wait. Nico lifts my left hand, tracing a finger around the stealth and protection runes circling a central dagger supported by spectral hands.
Every member of the Shabah has this sigil somewhere on their body.
“I thought so.” The tattoo thrums with power under his gentle caress.
His fingertips glide along my ribs, gently stroking over the other guild tattoo—a cloaked figure that dissipates into wisps of smoke as it fades out across my abdomen.
My body lights up, desire overriding the annoying voice in my head, leaving me aching for more of Nico’s gentle touch.
His lips twitch at the corner. “You are a Shade on assignment here in the city?”
I keep my tone light and my hand steady as I brush my fingertips across the smooth fabric of his shirt.
“An assignment of sorts, yes.” One I’ve given myself and not approved by the Guild.
“But that’s business. And this”—I slip my fingertips under the hem of his tunic and stroke his warm skin—“is just two people enjoying each other’s company.
” I tilt my head to the side and look up at him through my lashes.
Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone but an anonymous hookup, and it has my heart pounding.
“Possibly more than once, if you’re still so inclined. ”
Nico’s gaze roams over my body as his fingertips follow the same path. “I will happily take whatever you are willing to give.”
His eyes are full of desire, excitement, perhaps a bit of infatuation.
But there’s more there. Sympathy? Empathy, perhaps.
‘I will take whatever you are willing to give.’ With relief, I lean further into him.
He understands and accepts the moment for what it is.
Two people seeking comfort or distraction in the body of a stranger. Nothing more.
I slide my hands up his back and pull him closer, grinning wickedly. “Tonight, I’m willing to give a lot. You’re the lucky recipient.”
He pulls his gaze from my torso to meet my eyes. “You are my first Shade.”
His confession is unexpected and intriguing. “Is that something you’ve been looking for? Or trying to avoid?”
His laugh holds a hint of embarrassment. “Perhaps both? When I was younger, my father warned me to avoid the Shabah.” His voice takes on an authoritarian tone that I assume sounds parental. “They are dangerous, Nicolas. Killers who have no morals and will slit your throat as soon as look at you.”