Chapter 23
Tentacles crawled silently across the slate roof where Yves perched.
The sun had set, his own shadows blending with thickening darkness over the harbor of Kadling Kay.
Below, the docks still bustled with light and life, none the wiser to him lurking on the harbor office’s roof.
There was a nervous energy about the crowd, no doubt due to the presence of two famous pirate ships in their usually peaceful harbor.
He couldn’t fault the good townsfolk for their wariness.
He’d just as soon slaughter them if he had a purpose for it.
As it was, the satiation of his encounter with Rowan in the alleyway had already worn thin.
Death sat in his shadow, gnawing at his bones.
He thought of going to the Siren Song, pinning Rowan to the wall and fucking him till he cried.
Not the bed, that seemed too civilized for his current mood.
But he knew he hadn’t exactly been gentle in the alley, and Rowan would need time to recover.
So he did not go to the Siren to ease his hunger, but he did watch it.
Finally, he spotted Rowan talking to the group of captive sailors, and they disembarked.
He forcefully pulled his gaze away from his husband to track the sailors through the bustle as they made their way down the docks in a little knot and stopped near the building where Yves waited.
Rowan had released them, as Yves knew he would.
The man he loved would never deign to keep an innocent person captive.
Poor, softhearted Rowan, trying to do the right thing.
Affection almost dulled the anger still prickling in Yves’s guts.
Yves had tried to be merciful, for Rowan’s sake, by offering the sailors an opportunity to live. But here they were, free men.
And that was a problem.
He’d already taken care of the witnesses from the alley, now it was time to wrap things up.
Below, the sailors seemed to be discussing what to do next. No doubt they’d try to get work on the next ship heading back to Kefrye. Unfortunately for them, the harbor offices were closed for the night, so they’d have to find one the hard way. They’d never make it there.
Yves slipped down to the alleyway at the side of the building.
He could have sent men to take care of this, but if anyone else knew, he couldn’t be sure the information wouldn’t make its way back to Rowan.
So when the group moved away, Yves slipped after them.
The crowd parted around him. An unfortunate side effect of the demon nesting within his flesh.
People, especially those unused to violence, shied away from him instinctually.
His crew had become more used to it, but still treated him with respectful fear.
Rowan was the only person who seemed to crave it.
He knew what Yves was. Could see his true form, yet still, he loved him.
Yves frowned as he stalked after the small group of sailors who had not noticed him yet.
Why did his thoughts keep turning toward Rowan?
When the Siren had sailed away from the Teeth, Yves had been determined not to follow.
Let Rowan make this mistake and come crawling back if he was beaten. Let him face his betrayer alone.
But after all that talk of death and parting, Yves couldn’t risk it. He was furious still. His anger a palpable sourness on his tongue. But Rowan was the only person he cared for in this world, and Yves could not lose him.
The sailors had reached darker streets now, the crowd thinning as they neared the end of the docks.
Yves stuck to the shadows as they ducked into a side street.
Were they looking for a place to stay? Or going to drink away whatever wages Rowan had inevitably given them?
Yves couldn’t help the prickle of offense at the thought that they would squander his husband’s coin and goodwill.
Even if Yves was going to kill them.
He stepped into the mouth of the street and found his prey waiting.
So they had noticed him following after all. They stood arrayed across the width of the lane, four of them, all with knives or lengths of wood they’d found in the alley. Yves carried his dagger and saber, but did not draw them.
“We know you’re following us, Demon,” one standing in the center said. He tapped the flat of his knife against his palm. “The Ghost Hawk let us go. We’ve no business with you.”
Yves tilted his head. Knew the flickering of the torch on the wall played tricks on their eyes, casting his face into ghoulish shadow.
“No business? I believe our agreement was join, or die.”
“We did join!” another hissed. “But he freed us.”
“We promised not to tell about anything we saw!” a third said, wide-eyed and shaking. Clearly out of his mind with fear.
Did Rowan really think a flimsy promise of silence was going to keep their secrets? Yves may have kissed him in front of outsiders, but he’d be damned if he’d let that slipup put Rowan in danger.
“You mistake me.” Yves stepped forward, spurs clinking softly.
He did not draw his blades, but the sailors’ grips tightened on their weapons.
“A deal with me does not expire. And no other can release you from it. You may have been under the Ghost Hawk’s command, but it is me you pledged your deaths to. ”
Something snapped in them, terror pushing into action.
The first one yelled and charged, the others following.
Yves caught the first man by the throat, choking off his forward momentum.
Death lurked over Yves’s shoulder. Yves wanted to sink his teeth in.
To devour. But news of corpses with human bite marks would spread fast, and he did not want Rowan to know.
He drew his dagger and slashed across the man’s stomach.
The flesh parted like an amorous mouth, spilling forth ropes of intestine.
The man stilled, mouth dropping open in silent shock before he fell, gurgling, and died on the worn cobbles.
Someone yelled, but it seemed no one in this remote section of the docks could hear or care.
Yves breathed in the scent of blood like a drug. The rest of the sailors fell upon him, stepping over their dying colleague.
A snarl caught in Yves’s teeth as the dark waters rose in him.
One of the men stumbled back in fear. Another slashed at Yves’s throat, blade whistling a mere breath from his skin.
Yves seized him by the shirt and threw him into the wall, where his head cracked against the stones, blood and brain matter splattering in a halo.
Pain prickled through Yves’s spine as a board full of old nails cracked across his back. He hissed—not because of the pain, which was almost like a balm to his hunger, and would be gone soon enough anyway—but because the nails had punctured his shoulder, and the blood would ruin his coat.
He whirled, drawing his saber, but the assailant escaped his slash. There were only two left, and seeing that Yves had no reaction to their attack, they turned and fled.
Within a few paces he took the first to the ground, teeth latching onto the back of his neck.
The man’s scream bounced off the stone walls.
Blood burst on Yves’s tongue, heady with life and death.
The demon’s instinct overtook him, and he bit down harder, teeth crunching against vertebrae.
Yves twisted, and the man’s flailing stilled.
Small, animal-like whimpers falling into the puddles on the street.
Yves didn’t have time to savor his suffering.
He left the man paralyzed on the ground and went after the last one, running him down like a wolf with a deer.
His deer dashed around a corner, and Yves followed him into a dark, dead-end alley. The man—just a boy really, he couldn’t have been more than twenty—whirled to face him, eyes wide and shifting like a cornered animal.
“Please,” he whispered, backing toward the brick wall, holding a small knife out in front of him with both shaking hands. “I swear, I-I won’t tell.”
Yves couldn’t take that risk. The whole situation was his own fault, his poor control that had put Rowan in danger and their relationship on display. Besides, these men had made a deal with a demon, and it had come due.
Yves stalked forward, the light of the torches at his back. His shadow stretched out long into the darkness before him, invisible tentacles writhing around it. The man’s eyes flicked down to the shadow that showed Yves’s true form, then back up to his face.
“Monster,” he breathed.
The demon, as always, rose further to the surface, pleased to be acknowledged. Known.
His shadow touched the tip of the man’s boots.
“S-stay back!” The wavering knife pointed at Yves’s heart.
“I’ll kill you. I swear!” Blood dripped from the tip of Yves’s saber as he advanced.
The threat didn’t matter, and the nail holes in his back were already closing up.
He didn’t care how much blood he spilled, how much pain he caused or experienced. Anything for Rowan.
“Do it,” he growled, the tang of blood still clinging to his taste buds. “See how far it gets you.”
One shuddering breath, and the man lunged. Yves didn’t raise his sword to defend himself and the knife sank deep into his shoulder. He didn’t cry out, didn’t stumble. The knife scraped his clavicle. The man gasped and stumbled back, leaving the blade in Yves’s body.
“You see now, how futile that is,” Yves said calmly.
“Please, have mercy.”
Yves’s long fingers curled around the hilt of the knife and yanked it out, a gout of blood cascading down the front of his jacket.
“Mercy? You were already given mercy, and you ran from it.” The man’s back hit the bricks.
Yves set the blade against his throat. “This, too, is a mercy.” He slit his throat, a sickening gurgle bubbling through the wound as the man tried to draw breath, life draining out of his eyes.
Yves resheathed the sword and dropped the knife as the body slumped to the ground.