Chapter 9 Paeonia #3
They passed an alchemist’s shop that had a merchant offering various unheard of elixirs. “Healing potions, love potions, I have them all! Antidotes, fortune draughts, powdered gems. Perhaps a destruction oil, good sir—just a drop, and expect grandeur decay!”
He poured a little on the tip of his finger, and it quickly steamed, the skin sliding off and exposing his bone beneath. Paeonia gasped, watching on in curiosity, a puff of smoke sparking from the man’s fingertips.
Her focus shifted as she moved along, a gargoyle-like creature stood waiting by one of the animal stalls, shaking out its wings. It had reminded her of the Stoneborne but mixed with Rowan’s feral nature and size.
Someone in a black hood with indistinguishable features walked with a redcap chained to his side, dragging him along against his will. Her heart waded as she wondered if it was a pet, or a servant, or if he was bringing him to trade. Would those here think Paeonia was Rowan’s human pet?
They approached the far side, lined with wide-set trees that twisted and sprawled toward the damp roof. Some went the opposite way, their roots dropping to the levels below. And hanging off them were decrepit lanterns lit with green fire.
Something growled beside Paeonia, and she jumped, rushing to the other side of Rowan, who seemed to be enjoying her distress. She tucked her hood tighter, wanting to be swallowed whole.
He brought her to a more desolate section, down a side alley, the chaos still raging around them, but a bit more dispersed.
He stopped before an odd shop, its doors hung wide open like all the others, odd smells wafting out into the center.
It looked like a tavern. A dimly lit, sketchy, decaying, monster-infested tavern. The sign read, “Night Trades.”
Paeonia bumped into Rowan’s back, quickly righting herself. He spun to face her, gaining all her attention. “Stay put. Do not move.”
She hastily nodded. “Where are you going?” she asked him with distress when he turned to depart.
“I’ll only be a moment.”
She looked around her in panic. “Can’t I come in with you?”
He shifted his weight. “A human should not enter here. Trust me when I say it’s better you wait outside.”
She wanted to ask him why he had to go in there in the first place—why not do this another time? But she solemnly nodded, her eyes permanently widened.
Paeonia squeezed her fingers on the fabric of her cloak, backing to stand against the post outside the tavern, hoping to blend into the shadows.
Surely Rowan wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
He needed her after all, went as far as bargaining with her to stay with him. Why waste it after only a few days?
Across the way, a few feminine creatures swayed their hips, their clothing barely covering them as it draped off their lithe frames.
They beckoned various beings who passed inside, and surprisingly, almost every other creature accepted one of the females’ hands.
Moans and music wafted into the market that were quickly muffled out when the door swung closed again.
“Interested?” a male voice spoke beside her.
She jumped, her feet splashing in an oddly colored puddle, her face cringing. The person beside her was a man who resembled a human, so much so, she was convinced he was one. Until he smiled and she saw his teeth, every single one of them razor-sharp.
Paeonia could only shake her head, hoping he’d leave her be. Curiously, the man appraised her then sniffed the air. His eyes darkened. “A human,” he croaked.
Paeonia bit her lip, peering over her shoulder for Rowan.
“Pretty little thing, too,” he said as if she wasn’t there, and he was speaking to a buyer. “You’d make a pretty coin in there. At least at first, until the novelty wore off. Humans aren’t usually our clienteles’ main dessert.”
His long fingers pinched her cloak, and he pulled it back to see what she had on underneath. Paeonia was too stunned to stop him.
“But the few that do prefer little humans end up craving them more than other females. You see, humans are worn out far quicker. Not as sturdy.” He laughed into the dimly lit market, the sound grating. “I try to collect them by the wagon-full to make sure I never have to turn a client down.”
A heat began to radiate against her back.
The odd man glanced over her shoulder and released her cloak. “Rowan,” he greeted flatly. “Apologies. I didn’t realize this pet was yours.”
Paeonia almost let out a sound of relief.
“Will we be seeing you this evening?”
Rowan shifted to Paeonia’s side, and she glanced at him in terror. Rowan met her eyes before looking back at the sharp-toothed man. “I think we might take a look around right now, if it’s convenient.”
The man smiled so wide that he reminded her of a frog. “Of course.” He bowed, stepping away and returning to what Paeonia now knew was a brothel.
“Why don’t we take a gander?” Rowan asked slyly, a hint of mockery in his tone.
Paeonia shivered. “W-what?” she trembled.
His pupils dilated slightly, and he urged her forward, his hand briefly on her lower back, dropping when her legs began to move. “I took you here to show you the possibilities that linger in the darkness of the night.”
She bit her lip, not knowing what to do as Rowan entered the brothel. If she remained outside, who knew what kind of creature would approach her. But if she went inside…
She shut down her thoughts and followed after Rowan, hesitantly ascending the two front steps and passing through the threshold.
The inside smelt of pipe weed and a sickeningly sweet vanilla. Music played as bodies swayed about the room. A fluffy carpet circled the foyer, soft-looking settees lining the walls, some of them filled with male bodies and various female creatures draped across their laps
“Please,” Paeonia mumbled to Rowan.
His fist clenched. Lewd bodies moved around them, all so slow and sensual.
Her heart stuttered, watching helplessly as Rowan took a seat.
There were rooms and halls that stretched far past this one, and she couldn’t even imagine the type of debauchery taking place in the shadows.
She moved to stand beside him awkwardly, wishing he’d let her leave, her feet uncomfortably wet from the puddle earlier.
She pulled her hood back on, trying to block out the mesh of bodies.
Rowan immediately tugged it back down, making her look at him. “You see these males?” Rowan asked in a whisper.
Paeonia swallowed.
A female nymph twisted her waist and lengthy torso toward the two of them, beckoning Rowan. He grabbed Paeonia’s hips and dragged her in front of him to stand between his knees, and the nymph switched her sights, moving away to track another lonely male when she realized Rowan was preoccupied.
“These are the kind of horrors that linger in the dark. No bear or wolf—those beasts are the least of your concern.”
Someone bumped into Paeonia, and she stumbled forward, her knees against Rowan’s thighs.
His pupils dilated as he glared at her. His voice grew even lower, more cynical, threatening.
“Unless you want to end up here, run ragged in only a few days. Defiled. Abused.” His hands tightened their hold on her.
She never shied away, his scarred face a better view than the salaciousness happening behind her.
“You’ll understand I care for your safety. ”
She nodded vigorously.
“I am trying to keep you safe,” he growled again, and Paeonia instantly thought of the wolves that Rowan had slaughtered and left on display. A warning to keep out. “If only part of the bargain tie that keeps us tethered.”
“Okay,” she rushed, nodding again and again.
Rowan stood slowly from his seat, his hands lingering on her, keeping her in place, looming, their chests touching. His breathing became uneven, and Paeonia held in her whimper as his fingers briefly slid to her chin before dropping them.
“Care to pick out a male?” he murmured. “Or a female,” he added wickedly.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please. I want to leave.”
When Paeonia opened her eyes again, a strange male in a mask slid beside her, his lanky fingers stroking across her shoulder and briefly fluttering them through her hair. Rowan made no move to stop the creature.
“This one yours?” the creature asked Rowan.
Rowan grunted—a sound that could be interpreted as a yes, but not as strong an answer as Paeonia would have liked, no matter how degrading.
The masked stranger removed his hood and revealed a long drape of inky hair that fell down his back. He sniffed her, Paeonia freezing in sheer shock and disturbance. “Doesn’t smell like it.”
Paeonia looked at Rowan helplessly, and his gaze met hers. “Care to give him a try?” he said quietly so only she could hear.
She shook her head and prayed he’d let her be. Wouldn’t force her to—
Rowan’s face sharpened. “Doesn’t matter if she smells like it,” Rowan snarled at the male.
The creature gave an odd chuckle that twisted Paeonia’s stomach into unease. She hadn’t realized it, but she was edging closer against Rowan’s side.
“You know t’rules,” the creature purred.
“What rules?” Paeonia asked nervously. He didn’t answer, or even glance down at her, this time.
The creature before her spoke and stole her attention. “Any unclaimed female in these parts is fair play. And you, my dear”—he sniffed the air again—“do not appear to be claimed.”
“Claimed?” she breathed, but neither of the males seemed to hear her. The barbaric term made her fingers clench.
Rowan appeared to be trying to kill this creature with his eyes alone—and for a moment, she thought it might be possible.
The male touched her again, startling her and making her flinch. He drew her closer to his chest, and Paeonia immediately fell into a panic, the sick and slimy feeling making ears go hot. She instinctively called out for the fae beside her. “Rowan!”