Chapter 12 The First Scratch is the Deepest #2
I leaned in, expecting to taste the ale on his breath but only mine lingered between us. “And what do I get for all this information?”
The Sheriff grinned. “I’ll show you.” He took my hand and lifted me to my feet. He strode toward the back of the inn, and I followed, my palm sweaty in his. I kept my head turned away from the game in the center of the room. Would Clement notice?
The Sheriff dropped my hand, and I wiped it on my cloak as we entered the hallway. Spurs clinking, he climbed the wooden stairs to the third floor. Running one hand along the floral wallpaper as we rose, he hummed a jaunty tune, never once turning back to check if I followed.
He knew he had me.
Maybe Clement wouldn’t care. He’d just think I had found my own entertainment for the evening.
As long as I made it back before he could check on me, it would be fine.
He wouldn’t see the aftermath, and I couldn’t be blamed if I was tucked up back in front of Lilyanna’s door staring at the gaping hearth.
I shook the nerves from my system. I couldn’t let the mere sight of him unsettle me.
He was probably only watching my movements out of professional curiosity.
It was his job to know everything going on in or around the castle, which extended to me.
The floorboards creaked, the aisle undulating slightly beneath my feet. The Sheriff stopped at the first open door and held it open. As I moved past him, he leaned into me, pinning me against the frame with his hot body flush against mine.
“Your brother-in-law works at the castle too?”
I nodded. “Prince’s personal bodyguard.”
His lips closed on mine, groin hardening against my stomach. “I live for challenges like that,” he whispered, freeing my mouth for just long enough to hear my moan of agreement.
He rolled me around the door frame and flattened me against the wall.
The door snicked shut, its lock snapping into place.
He tore open my cloak, and I tugged the tunic over his head, throwing the fabric into the corner.
He worked his mouth down my face, my neck, my chest, his hands roving under my shirt in perfect synchrony.
Goddessdamn was he good. He was a professional. No wonder someone wanted retribution. I freed his belt, an assortment of knives clanging to the floor and my ring caught against the light hair on his chest as I moved upward.
“Sorry,” I panted. “I should take this off. Wouldn’t want to scratch you.”
He grasped my wrists and held them above my head, pressing me back against the wall. “Keep it on.”
Good as he was, I had a sudden image of Clement in front of me. He’d take his time, working his way systematically through every pleasure point in my body. A welcome heat pushed lower into my abdomen.
The Sheriff regained my focus, tugging the rest of my clothes off and letting my undergarments pool on the floor by my feet.
I stood with the gummy wallpaper molding to my back, dim moonlight illuminating my naked body while he stood back.
His gray eyes travelled slowly down my breasts, tracing an invisible line to my stomach, my skin tingling as if he were running his tongue across me.
His erection throbbed, and he took himself in hand, stroking slowly while his gaze penetrated every inch of me. Heat pulsed between my legs, wetness seeping down my thighs.
Sometimes I really loved my job.
“I can taste you from here.” He licked his lips, moisture beading on the slick surface.
“I’d rather you tasted me here.” I tilted my hips, arching my back to allow him full view of me.
Lust shone in his eyes, his face breaking into that mischievous grin that I’d followed around the country. He had me. He wanted me, but it was my turn first.
He grabbed my hips, lifting me up and onto him. I wound my thighs around his waist, sinking deep upon his shaft. His mouth covered mine, swallowing my moan. I threaded my fingers through his hair, my nails tingling as I gently scratched his scalp.
Not enough to bleed, not yet.
He thrust harder, my back pounding against the wall. Magic swirled through my veins, setting my nerves on fire.
I was losing control.
Pressure built deep within me, my senses numbing to everything except the heat, the sweat, the pleasure.
He took my breast in his mouth, working my erect nipple between his teeth, and I was done.
I was his.
I threw my head back as he dug his teeth into my skin, sucking and tugging while he speared me deeper. I screamed as the fire within me burst, clinging onto just enough sense to realize I'd dug my nails into his back. There was no hesitation this time as my magic released.
He pulsed inside me, matching my intensity, oblivious to the blood trickling down his sweat-soaked skin. He leaned against me, my body still wrapped against his with the wall supporting us both. His panting breaths were sticky on my neck, his fingers still clutching my thighs.
Eventually he carried me to the bed. We both lay sprawled on top of the tatty cover, neither of us wanting to burrow beneath the sheets amongst the stains of hundreds of others. Within minutes he was asleep, a soft snore rocking his body.
How does this happen? I’d never understood how someone could sleep in front of another, especially a stranger. I ran my finger down the smooth contour of his face, traced the curve of his damp lips. He was so vulnerable like this.
I smiled.
The magic inside me dimmed, my muscles loose, my body deliciously achy. How long could I stay? Perhaps I too could sleep. Trust him just enough. As long as I awoke before him, it would be okay.
Maybe he was waiting for me to rest. What would he take for his token other than the free information?
Maybe a lock of my hair? Or perhaps he would snoop through my pockets to find some kind of memento that would allow him to track me later.
He may just be planning to use Clement as his source.
Blackmailing the most influential party involved would be a smart move.
Although, if it was blackmail he was setting up for and that’s why he wanted access to the prince, perhaps the prince was involved in the murders.
If he was running from a mounting pile of rumors from the South like the Sheriff had said, perhaps he couldn’t help himself but to continue up here.
Maybe the Sheriff hadn’t been hired by another party but came the old-fashioned way, by following the evidence trail.
But any proof of those claims was about to be destroyed by the trackers I’d unleashed into his system.
I’d need to either believe the Sheriff, a known criminal, or continue believing in the prince, who hadn’t shown any signs of hiding a darker part of himself.
I spun the fake wedding band around my finger, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The blond hair trailing down his stomach darkened in the gloom. Perhaps Clement had a similar trail? Pure black. Pure power. As dark and dangerous as his eyes.
The faint tinkling of a bell sounded. An innocent set of chimes caught in the wind but a reminder that the Collectors would soon arrive. They’d sense I’d implanted the trackers and released my magic.
I couldn’t see them. I’d successfully avoided them for almost two decades.
It was hard at first, especially when I was young.
They’d bound me to this life, used me in their deal with Siobhan, but I still wanted to see them.
Wanted to relive my life, their lives, to return to what we had before magic and death swallowed us.
But my spite over what they’d done, and my lingering common sense, always moved me on before they arrived. It was better that way.
I rolled out of bed and dressed swiftly, taking one of the daggers from his belt on the floor and slipping it into my thigh holster. I pulled the cloak back around me and dropped the hood. The Sheriff had not moved. How long had I lain and watched him? Twenty minutes? Thirty? An hour?
The door whispered shut, the floorboards creaking as I crept back downstairs. The inn was still in full swing. Dice clinking, drinks being poured. The fire crackled, filling the room with smoke and cloying heat.
I passed quickly. There was no suspicious glare from Clement as he monitored the stairs and no sign of his tapping foot as he stood vigil in the hallway waiting to pounce. He must have already left. My shoulders sagged. Goddessdamn me, I was weakening already.
Friends, just friends. Or at the very least, he was just a method of access for my bounty.
Maybe he hadn’t recognized me after all, which was a good thing, so why did a rush of disappointment cause my shoulders to slump?
In fact, it was lucky he’d gone back to the castle in case Lilyanna needed anything.
If he asked where I’d been, I could pretend I had wandered to the kitchens to get a snack and got lost, leaving her side for barely a moment.
He had no proof to the contrary anyway. I nodded to myself, purging any feelings of sadness.
As I walked back to the castle, I rubbed my fingertips. The Sheriff’s dried blood fell like snow upon the cobbles. No evidence. No association.
No guilt.
The guard let me in without any questions, and I returned to my room. The door was still closed, the fire burning in the hearth. I tossed my cloak on the bed and ascended the spiral stairs to Lilyanna’s room.
The temperature shifted as I opened the door. Subtle at first, a cool breeze rushing out, but as I stepped inside her room, the air froze my breath. White puffs of cloud illuminated the darkness before me.
The fire was out, its embers not even smoldering. I crossed quickly and grabbed more wood from the pile to thrust on top. How had it burned through so quickly?
Once it lit and I had blown the cloying, black smog up the chimney, I sat back on my heels and turned slowly around.
A winding trail of soot like a tail or dragged limb, marked a path from the hearth to Lilyanna’s open door. My bedding and the chair had been thrust aside, both covered with sooty smears.
I jumped up, freeing the stolen knife from my thigh and leaped for her room.