4. 3 #2
A shiver ran up my spine just as Davian’s keen eyes finally fell on our corner. His grey eyes, made darker by the room and yet still flashing against his deep skin, found my face immediately. I was still frozen, sat on the seat with my glass clenched in my hand.
The moment held, and I couldn’t turn away. The haze of the room fell out of focus as I stared at him, the smoke curling in the air as he pulled back his hood, revealing glossy black hair that curled into the neck of his tunic.
His lips curved into a smile, and then he broke eye contact, studying the other women behind me with the same amused look.
Yona appeared from behind the bar, clicking her fingers above her head. “Ladies. If you would. This man is new to our establishment.”
This was his first time here. Why had he come just after our conversation? I had to assume he had come here for me. Yet I had told him nothing of where I worked, and he already had the ring. What else was there?
I followed suit, moving into the centre of the room before Davian. There were five of us, so either the others had finished with their men, or left them to present themselves.
We positioned ourselves into a rough line on the thick green rug. Francine jostled me, moving me to the edge, where I was happy to be. Yona stood just behind us, watching her newest patron with just as much interest as we did.
Since the moment he had entered, he had been careful to avoid my eyes, and for that, too, I was grateful.
Every moment under Davian’s gaze filled me with uncertainty.
I had to admit he was something to look at, but he watched me like I was a lizard to be caught, and I wasn’t sure I would like what was waiting for me in that cage.
Instead, I pictured a rosy mouth and honey curls. My Robar would be feeling my loss, even if he didn’t know what he mourned yet. It would all fall back into place, and our lives would be as they should. I didn’t want to think about another man at all, if I could avoid it.
A whispered conversation hissed beside me, but I didn’t catch a word of it as Daisy turned back to her place in the line. My heart caught as I noticed another of the girls with her hand splayed behind her back.
“My ladies Daisy and Sara are already pledged to other patrons this evening,” Yona declared.
Daisy stepped back, with a demure bow to Davian and a coy smile.
Sara, the girl who had put her hand behind her back, curtsied.
Both of them filtered down the line past me.
Daisy widened her eyes at me, and I realised I had already lost my first chance to escape.
I had been too busy thinking of my betrothed.
Both women had given the signal. They did not want to be chosen by Davian. He was miles more handsome than the rest of the clientele. It could have only been his House and his reputation that had made them retreat.
I looked back at Davian, who was taking another long drag from his pipe. I hadn’t given the signal. Did I want to?
I hated how curious I was. I knew little of the House of Pain.
I’d heard some stories, of course. As fellow practitioners of pleasure, in their way, it fell to me to have some understanding of the art.
But I hardly knew more than gossip, for Ekrissians were not to be marked by anything other than Ekris’ golden blaze.
They peddled in flesh, as we did. But where the men would spend gold to buy the touch of my skin, in the House of Pain they would pay to have their own skin broken.
A nervousness, or excitement, bubbled in my chest at the thought. Then it burst and diffused as I forced myself to be serious. It wasn’t a problem to be curious, but it had to end at that.
Davian looked between the three of us still standing, offering me only a hint of a glance. Francine and another woman I hadn’t met stood proudly. “Your ladies are certainly all beautiful.”
Yona smiled, and beckoned him closer with a crooked finger.
Davian stepped forwards, moving to the centre of the rug. He lifted his hand, touching Francine’s chin with no more pressure than a feather. She breathed in.
“What’s your name?” he said, low in her ear.
The tone of his voice pooled inside me like melted gold, and he wasn’t even speaking to me. I suppressed the shiver that tried to climb my back once more, but a small noise escaped.
Davian’s eyes shot to me, and I darted my own away as a blush formed on my cheeks. I stared straight at the entrance curtain ahead, embarrassed to be caught.
I heard her swallow. “Francine.”
He only hummed. “Hm.”
The breeze from the swish of his cloak pebbled the flesh of my arms. He approached me, I could sense it, but I refused to look at him even as my nipples hardened under my dress.
I clenched my hands at my sides as he stepped up beside me, and the heat of his breath hit my cheek. When I couldn’t bear it any more, I turned to look at him.
His silver eyes were locked on my lips, watching my shallow breaths. When I met his gaze, he smirked. “I would like her.”
“Annie?” Yona asked.
He smiled wider, and my heartbeat was thunder. I could feel it everywhere. “Yes. Annie.”
Yona cleared her throat. “Annie, do you have any prior engagements?”
I glanced back at her, and I could see her raise an eyebrow. She was offering me a lifeline, a way to back out now, even though I hadn’t before. All I had to do was say the word. All I had to do was unclench one fist, and place it behind my back.
I looked up at the masked man towering over me.
A devotee of Pain. My opposite in every way.
He wasn’t my preference. He didn’t have the charm of my betrothed. He didn’t have Robar’s easy laugh and warmth. But he was a man of the gods. I told myself he might know something.
I shook my head, looking at his wide lips as I replied. “No. I am free.”
His smile grew wicked, and then he dropped it as he took a step back from me and broke our eye contact. I felt weightless, as if he had been holding me under a spell and had now released his grip on me. It was remarkable I didn’t stumble.
I barely heard Yona over the pounding in my ears. “Then, of course. Come over here, sir. We can discuss your payment.”
Davian returned to the bar with Yona, and I stood there, staring at his back.
Shit. Shit.
I had just agreed to go upstairs with him. The same man who had trapped me in an alleyway only a few days ago. The man who had paid me handsomely for a ring; money he was paid to inflict harm on others.
I was engaged, even if my own lover didn’t remember me. I should have made a signal, or said anything at all. My skin heated as he looked back at me over his shoulder, his expression deadly. What had I gotten myself into?