Chapter 6
Roderick Bryson
The garden of Melusine Manor was just as lavish as the main hall.
It was like emerging from a deep lagoon into one of the forest glens he hunted in back home.
The mage lights out here were strung high above their heads, lightly wrapped in sheer green cloth, imbuing the air with a verdant glow.
His masked companion admired the flora as they walked.
Dear Divine, what a woman. This was what he needed. A night where he could prove to himself he was capable of being a decent man. A night without the eyes of his subordinates, the pressures of his title or the laurels of his name.
Or the chill of the Duke’s ominous words. They still haunted him.
Any delays aside from stormy skies, and I will be forced to re-evaluate your position.
What would his parents do if he lost his title and land?
Where would they live? Would they disown him?
They didn’t need him to protect them anymore.
They had finally been proud of him when he earned his title, though he’d nearly died accomplishing it.
Even becoming a knight had failed to impress them.
Being a knight isn’t a noble title, his father had said. Your silly sword cannot protect us from blood testing.
He banished the worries easily by sneaking a glance at the woman. This maiden, with her beautiful tresses that shimmered against her midnight dress, had all but washed them away with a tap of her claw and howling laugh. A princess like Anya would never dream of coming to such a place.
He beckoned her to sit as they reached a stone fountain. The babbling water and chirp of cicadas was much preferred to the music inside. The music had begun to pound in his head, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the thrum of his heart in his chest as he sat beside this mystery woman.
Socks long gone, he relished the sensation of clover between his toes. She seemed to be enjoying it too, raising her toes and digging her heels into the ground in a slow, repetitive motion.
She rested her head on his shoulder and stared up at the night sky.
“Which one is your favorite?” Roderick asked, following her gaze.
“Vulpecula,” she answered, without a moment’s hesitation. “The little fox. Yours?”
“You,” he answered with a grin.
She laughed and shoved his arm. “I’m no star, you fool. Pick a real one!”
“Then call me a fool. I know stars live in the heavens, but I swear there’s a wanderer beside me.”
A melancholy smile curved her lips. “If only. If only I could wander wherever my feet would take me. Without worry. Without fear. Without people ready to pounce when I’m finally admiring the view.”
How could a woman like her be forced into a suffocating life? She practically carried the wind in her hair.
“I will gladly vanquish whoever dares to stifle your joy.” He wanted to brandish his rapier, but he’d left it at the inn. Words would have to do.
“If only you could.”
“I think you could get me to do a lot of things.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. A little blush colored her neck as she looked away.
“By the way, you haven’t told me yours,” he said quietly.
“My what?” She turned her masked face back to him. The wolfish visage fit her golden eyes perfectly. It was like staring into the face of the lunar goddess he’d been told stories of by Elvani traders. He momentarily forgot what he was saying.
“Hello?” She waved a clawed hand in front of his face, and the words came back. He snatched her hand out of the air, then pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “The little things you notice. How you take your tea. Your favorite sweet. The words you whisper to a lover. I want to know all that and more.”
The woman pondered for a moment, holding two claws to her chin. His eyes dropped to her pink lips. They looked soft. How would they feel against his? How would she taste if he—
Get a hold of yourself. He scolded himself with a flick on the wrist and popped his knuckles.
He resolved not to have his fangs out tonight.
He didn’t want to expose a single aspect of his normal life.
That was why he was here and not back at The Three Hares with Octavio.
That, and he was worried Anya would be there.
Lady Rowan was quite fond of Octavio, and the two women seemed to never go anywhere without the other.
Tonight, he was far from all that. Tonight, he was just a man.
The woman whispered, “You pop your knuckles when you’re unsure of yourself.
Rose hip with nothing else. Warm mulberry pie, and”—her bergamot perfume flooded his senses as she leaned closer.
She grabbed his chin, tipping his face side to side to examine it like a fine sculpture—“your wanton expression is a work of art. It seems a shame to sate it and erase it, but I think I may have to.”
“Your words make it seem like I’m the lover you’re speaking to.
” A breathy laugh escaped his chest. He could hardly believe how this evening was going.
It was as if he’d been cut free from the weights of his life in the daylight.
From the night he’d stopped taking the Rhodias flower, everything felt heavy, yet hollow.
Even the smallest tasks were a mighty burden on his mind.
But when his head hit the pillow, it all seemed a useless effort: nothing truly accomplished; nothing worthwhile gained.
Horses were trained. Drills were run. Then the cycle repeated.
But tonight was different. Life felt so light, so authentic, despite their ornate masks and verdant vision. The woman’s smile held a luminous glow, casting warmth on his face. A beaming grin crossed his own, testing muscles he hadn’t used in quite some time.
“You could be, for tonight.” The woman’s canine eyes locked with his as she tugged his shirt collar, and by the Divine, he was happy to be her prey.
“I’d like that,” he said with a hush, tipping her chin up. His eyes fell to her lips.
“This may prove difficult with the masks…” she murmured, leaning closer and parting her lips.
“I can endure it, for my wandering star,” he whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, then tilted his head to allow his lips to meet hers.
They slipped between each other so effortlessly.
Divine, her lips were like silk. The heat in his cheeks spread to his chest, warming it like the mulberry pie she favored.
She could feast on him like it too, until he was nothing but crumbs on her plate.
“Mm…” She sighed contentedly as her tongue swept into his mouth, sharing a hint of wine between them—a covetous sensation he knew he was bound to chase forever.
“Come back to the inn with me,” he whispered breathlessly. “No windows. No lights. Just our desires in the darkness.”
“Shining stars, you know exactly what to say to a woman. Yes.” She gently bit his lower lip to punctuate her words. He groaned as much from delight as from the effort to keep his fangs at bay.
“It’s not far from here. Hm…” He stroked his chin. A cicada buzzed overhead.
The woman chuckled. “What?”
“I’m deciding if I should blindfold you. Anonymity and all.”
“Oh, cut it out!” She punched his shoulder. She was strong. Just like—
No. The Princess wanted nothing to do with him, and he wanted nothing to do with her. It did this masked beauty a disservice to compare the two.
“There is a back door to the inn.” He smiled devilishly. “Come. I have a mount behind the garden.”
Hand-in-hand, they weaved in and out of the perfectly-shaped topiaries and vining archways.
The familiar huff of his stallion, Cyan, caught his ears.
He quickly guided the woman toward the sound.
He parted a curtain of flowering vines and beckoned her through to the luscious glen.
Every tree trunk and twisting root was covered in lichen and moss, bringing a rich, earthy scent to the woods.
“Your carriage, My Lady.” She hesitated, but he hoisted her onto the horse’s back before she could speak, then leapt on behind her. “And no need for side saddle. We are far beyond such chasteness.”
“Th-thank you.” Her voice was softer than before. And was there a tiny waver to it?
The chorus of cicadas and crickets faded as they rode through the garden and out to the cobblestone streets of the city center.
Nightlife was a unique aspect of Eteross; not just taverns and inns, but establishments open far beyond the normal merchant’s hours: bakers, apothecaries, tailors and the like.
The streets were lit by an assortment of lanterns and mage lights.
He reveled in the warmth of her back against his chest, and the tickle of her yellow-blonde hair on his skin.
Unlike Anya’s tightly coiffed bun, this woman’s hair flowed freely down her back and shoulders, wavy and unrestrained—and she had a spirit to match.
How could he have ever fallen for a woman like the Princess? Anya was uptight. Unappreciative. And she clearly had no interest in proper communication. A relationship with her would have truly been exhausting.
He shook his head. He needed to stop wasting his thoughts on her. He shouldn’t trade this wonderful moment for unpleasant musings.
His arms enveloped the woman as they rode, gripping the reins in front of her. He leaned forward to peek at her face. Beneath the mask, her eyes were squeezed shut.
“Are you afraid of horses?”
“I-I’m not a fan of riding. I got trampled by a horse as a child. I still have the scar.” She shivered against him.
He tightened his hold around her, then pressed a soft kiss to her neck. Her fluttering pulse shoved against his lips. “You’re in good hands, and hooves, trust me.”
The multi-story, dark-trimmed facade of The Three Hares came into view as they turned the corner. It was the city’s largest inn, and his favorite to stay at. He steadied Cyan to a trot and directed the steed into the alley behind the building.
“Here we are, the finest establishment in Eteross.” Roderick dismounted, leading Cyan to the water trough and roping him to a post. He turned to help the woman dismount, but she hopped off with impressive height, sticking a barefoot landing.
“Impressive.” He clapped and gave an approving nod.
“That is only the beginning, I assure you.” Her voice was practically a purr as she leaned into his chest, looking up at him with harvest moon eyes. “Take me inside.”
“As you wish.” He scooped her into his arms. The woman yelped with surprise but quickly melted into his embrace.
He fiddled the handle with an awkward hand, then shoved the door open with an elbow.
He carried her up a flight of stairs into the dim, mahogany hallway of the lodging.
He set her back on her feet, then fit the key into the brass lock.
“Close your eyes,” Roderick said before opening the door. “I need to make sure it’s dark.”
The woman put her clawed hands over her eyes. “Fine. But I can’t be liable for anything I break.”
Break me.
“Deal.”
He held her hand and led her through the room.
He shoved a small mage light into the bedside table drawer, then extinguished a lantern.
The room was windowless, like a solitary den.
It was just how he preferred to sleep. The darkness, at least, not the solitude.
Though tonight, he would share his den with her.
“All set.” He pulled her close, feeling her chest rise and fall with excited breaths.
“What are you waiting for?” She teased a claw down his neck. “Take it off.”
He reached a hand to the buttons of his shirt, then paused.
The mask. The mask, you dunce! He rolled his eyes at himself.
To his surprise, removing the mask seemed a far more vulnerable gesture. But he was shrouded in the safety of darkness. Tonight, they were just two strangers, a man and a woman. Beating hearts; starving souls. He removed the silver dragon mask and rested it on the bedside table.
The woman’s hair swished as she whipped her mask off and tapped it next to his, followed by the clink of a pair of spectacles.
“Finally,” she growled, unbuttoning his shirt with predatory fire. He countered her by slipping the shoulders of her dress down to her elbows and kissing her exposed collarbone.
His fangs shouted for release, for him to finally, finally, give in to his most primal desire. He’d never tasted blood. If this woman’s tongue bore honey, her veins surely carried ambrosia. But it was far too intimate a request for a stranger. Simply having them out would have to suffice.
“I’m a Centarian,” he whispered. “Do you mind if my fangs are out?”
“By all means.” She nuzzled into his chest. “Tonight is for nothing but our unadulterated selves.”
“Ngh…” He groaned as his fangs locked into place in his gums, relief washing over him. “Ha…I’d been holding them back all evening.”
“Hold nothing back. Give me everything.” Her gown slipped to the floor, giving way to a silky slip and warm, soft skin. He glided his hands over her waist and hips and pulled her close.
“It would be my honor.” His shirt joined her gown on the floor.
He pressed a hand to the nape of her neck, and their lips found each other once more.
A tingling rush at the base of his neck drove him closer, to fill his every sense with her.
He finally gave over to every gasping breath and sultry touch as her hands roamed his body.
She dug her claws into his back, drawing painful pleasure from his core. That move was a cry for more.
Roderick reluctantly pulled himself from her lips and chuckled softly. “This is strange without your name.” Exchanging names before going any further seemed the right thing to do.
“I suppose we have left the manor…” He could practically hear the smile in her voice. “You first.”
“All right,” he took a shaky breath. A sweat broke on his forehead.
It was just a word. A single word. But did he dare pierce the veil of their nameless night?
If he wanted to continue seeing her, it was inevitable.
He’d tell her his name and ask her to join him for dinner after the spring Council session tomorrow. He nodded to himself. Yes. Good plan.
“Roderick.”