Chapter 13 #3
Kitty’s was lit up, almost every window stuffed with all sexes and types flaunting themselves.
The girls were in corsets, robes, and fishnet stockings.
The guys were only in tiny briefs showing off their packages, some wearing top hats or leather vests.
All of them were in sexual positions putting what they had to offer on display, yelling offers of sex down to those who passed.
Young and old, patrons drifted in and out the front door in a steady stream.
Grunts from the alley and windows suggested some were already indulging.
“Warwick, baby.” They all cooed from the windows. I flicked my attention up, landing on one, my lids narrowing.
“Let me know when you’re ready. The girls and I will drop whatever we’re doing for you.
” Nerissa leaned out the window, showing off generous breasts bursting out of her top.
Her gaze slid to me, an impish smile curving her lips.
Smug. Like she knew exactly how he tasted, what he felt like . . . and I didn’t.
“Oh, looky who’s back. Ms. Prude is actually going to lower herself to our kind again?”
“Nerissa,” Warwick warned, but her smile turned haughtier.
He leaped up the steps to the door, not even looking back to see if I was behind him. I felt like some nuisance or kid sister he was obligated to come pick up.
Fuck him. Huffing, I clutched the sides of the gown, yanking it up, heading up the stairs, trying not to flinch. The tender pads of my feet burned, leaving partial bloody prints on the steps.
“What? Had nothing else to wear? Just something you threw on, duchess?” Nerissa leaned farther out as she taunted me, the others howling with laughter from their perches.
Snarling, I ignored her, stepping inside the doors.
“War-wick.” A lingering, smoky sigh filled with annoyance and love.
“I am not some halfway house.” The dame herself, Madam Kitty, stood in the large lounge, looking as polished and poised as ever.
Her dark skin glowed in the lamplight, highlighting her sharp cheekbones.
Tonight, she wore a green sequin-covered dress that fit her body like a glove, her dark hair up in a high sleek ponytail, the ends reaching her waist. I knew the hair wasn’t real.
Nor were the long lashes and even longer red nails.
She was striking, but exceptionally intimidating.
Still, something was off, something I couldn’t exactly explain.
“Kitty . . .” Warwick tipped his head to the side, giving her a tiny smile. “I swear nothing will happen.”
“My dear boy . . .” Her voice went very low, her hand going to her hip. “The last time you said that, I had to remodel the entire second floor.”
“That was one time.”
“The time before, it was the living room . . . The time before I had to replace four beds . . .”
“That was entirely for a different reason.” He held up his hand.
Her curled lashes lowered in a glower before her eyes slowly slid over to me. She always looked displeased, unless she was talking to Warwick, but I couldn’t tell at all what she thought about seeing me again.
Her jaw tensed, her attention going back to Warwick. “One of these days you will run out of favors.”
Warwick’s devastating grin danced over his face cheekily, making me inhale sharply—a genuine smile. His eyes glinted as he took her hand, kissing it. “You are a rare diamond, my friend.”
She snorted, taking back her hand and patting his shoulder. “I’m rare, all right.” She sighed. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.” He grinned again, kissing her cheek. “Go!” She batted at him. “Ugh. I don’t know why I’ve put up with you all these years.”
Warwick peered back at me, then turned and marched up the stairs, his happy mood dissolving the instant he looked upon me.
Clutching the monstrosity I wore, I headed for the stairs, dipping my head at Kitty. “Thank you.”
“Be careful with that one, girl,” she said, her reserve and polished appearance back in place, watching customers go in and out the door. “He has a way of pulling you in, drowning you . . .” She swallowed, and my eyes moved to her neck, noticing the Adam’s apple. “And all you do is ask for more.”
I paused, my gaze searching her face, seeing the truth behind the mask. “You’re in love with him.”
Her mouth twisted in a soft derisive scoff, not denying it.
“The love of my life is this place. I have no use for a heart. I learned that lesson long ago.” She glanced over at me.
“But let me warn you—nothing is worse than loving a man who will never love you back. It’s the worst kind of torture because you can grow accustomed to it, long for it, crave it more than life.
You wouldn’t even know how to stop it. Nor do you want to.
” She touched my arm, her head tipping, examining me.
“But maybe this time, it is he who needs to be careful.” Her eyes ran over me before turning away. “I will send up clothes for you.”
My eyes tracked her until she was out of view, her warning feeling weighty and potent.
Trudging up the steps, my gaze danced around. I never imagined I’d be back here. It was only a month ago, but it felt like years.
Everything had changed from the first time I walked up these stairs. Then all I wanted was to go home, to my life, to Caden, believing I could easily slip back into that world and be happy. Now I had no home, no place or family to go back to. I was a traitor to my people, no longer welcome.
I was homeless, penniless, and a true orphan.
Sighing, I proceeded to the room Warwick was in.
Whatever this link was between us scared me to death and stroked anger up my spine—because it felt like home.
Something my soul clung to, which made me want to sever it more.
It wasn’t only the fear of the unknown or what I’d lost tonight that played at my emotions, but the certainty of the pull to the room down the hall.
I could feel him. See him. Without even being near him, I knew there was a half-empty bottle of Pálinka on the table, takeout cartons in the trash, and a jacket on the chair.
Warwick was not someone you attached yourself to in any way. He was death. A lone wolf. Vicious and cruel.
“It’s the worst kind of torture because you can grow accustomed to it, long for it, crave it more than life. You wouldn’t even know how to stop. Nor do you want to.”