Chapter 1 #2
He tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and nudged a booted foot forward, pointedly tapping it toward my toes.
“The outing to the subway freaked the hells out of me with you in your bare feet and all that fucking litter, broken glass, and whatever-the-fuck spilled over the ground. Can’t you wear shoes for a day? ”
I was about to bark back, no!
However, he wasn’t wrong. The subway had been a nightmare of filth, and maybe it would be easier to agree to do than continually keeping watch for shards of glass and gross stuff littering the sidewalk.
With a vexed huff, I caved completely, spinning around and traipsing back into my bedroom to find something to slip onto my feet.
Graysen followed close behind. As I picked out a pair of white ballet flats, I shot him a curious glance, wondering why he was riffling through the accessories Penn had thought I’d appreciate, neatly stacked on the shelf above my bed.
He retrieved something soft and luxurious, a flourish of peach sweeping through the air as he turned to face me.
He stepped nearer, towering over me. An electrifying current of energy sparkled across my skin as he carefully brushed my heavy hair over my shoulder and wound the scarf around my neck.
Concentration lines feathered from his narrowed eyes as he flipped the scarf’s fringed ends and tied a neat knot, hiding Zrenyth’s collar beneath the pleated silk.
His hands dropped to his sides, lips pressing into a thin line of apology. “It’ll be best not to draw attention to us.”
The last of my good mood faded with the reminder.
A heartbeat later, excitement flared again. Who the hells cared? I was leaving the estate, about to go out on an adventure! And the cord collaring me might not stay wrapped around my neck for long if the Purveyor of Rarities did indeed possess the mites.
As I bent and slipped the ballet flats on, my teeth clacked together as the irritating sensation of losing my connection to the ground scraped across my nerves, almost overwhelming me.
I breathed through my nose, stomping a foot until I got a grip on my senses.
For a moment, I wanted to rip the shoes off, tear off every stitch of clothing, and bring the tower down to its foundations with my bare hands.
“You okay?” Graysen asked.
“I’m fine,” I gritted out, storming from my bedroom. “I just fucking hate shoes!”
Behind me, I heard him say, “Yeah, no kidding,” with that godsdamned smile shining through his voice.
I strode toward the ornate door to our quarters, eager to begin our adventure.
“Hang on,” Graysen called behind me.
Stopping mid-stride, I spun back. He was leaning one hand against the wall opposite my bedroom, a finger tapping, tap, tap, tap, a slow, deliberate rhythm against the stone.
“Before we leave, I should bind the tower’s wild magic to you so you can change the wall formations to suit your mood.”
“Now?” I was impatient to leave.
“It won’t take a moment. It’ll make things easier for you when I’m away.”
Grumbling, I headed to where he stood. “And how?”
Graysen tapped the wall once more. “Hold your hand here.”
I placed my palm on the stone beside his. He closed his eyes and a tingling rush of wild magic swept over my skin, sinking into my bones until they shivered. The magic probed at me, a little curious, a little spiteful, with a nip at my fingers.
Then, slowly, it relented, as if it had decided I was acceptable.
Graysen opened his eyes. “It’s done.”
He stepped away, retreating from the wall so it was only my hand spread across the stone. “Now think about how you want the walls to look. Cut a portion out, like I normally do. Let moonlight or sunlight flood through. Experiment. Get curious. Investigate every cranny of the tower.”
Instead, my mind veered somewhere…else.
His brows shot up, and I supposed he instantly read my wicked intentions scrawled all over my face. “Oh my gods, are you, like, a thirteen-year-old boy? Don’t you dare carve dick pics into my tower.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, okay.”
Closing my eyes, I imagined a window carved into the wall beside the entranceway, and the grating of stone filled the air as the wall curved and reshaped itself into what I imagined—then shifted itself back to its former self.
Yes, this definitely was going to be a lot of fun to play with. But I was itching for us to head out into the big, wide world. “Come on, let’s go!”
We left our quarters, excitement buzzing beneath my skin. As we made our way down the tower’s staircase, Graysen fished a set of car keys from his back pocket and spun them around his forefinger. “Where do you think this Horned God is in the city?”
For years I’d scoured the library on a quest to discover a creature that could tell me what lurked inside me.
During that time, I had come across the name of a Horned God that resided in Ascendria—the Purveyor of Rarities—not in a book from my family’s library, but in one among a collection of rare tomes my mother had borrowed for me from my grandparents at the Deniauds’.
When Graysen had taken me to the city to ride the subway, I’d sought the Uzrek. My research had led me to believe the Uzrek would be down in the catacombs beneath Ascendria, and I knew what I could use to tempt him out of the tunnels to speak with me.
I hadn’t been exactly sure where to find the Purveyor of Rarities. I only had a hunch, which wasn’t good enough if I ever found myself alone in the city with one shot at speaking with an otherworldly creature outside the collective’s fold who could shed light on what I was.
Also, it wasn’t exactly an otherworldly creature.
It was a Horned God.
And I hadn’t wanted to risk exposing myself to it.
“I have a fair idea,” I replied vaguely.
I was certain the Purveyor of Rarities would be at Ascendria’s Market, where a vast collection of stallholders sold their wares. What better place to sell strange oddities and rarities than somewhere inside the city’s market?