CHAPTER FOUR
VESPER
Since he was a young man, Vesper’s distaste for Scarlet Palaces had only grown.
Between the dingy wallpaper, the red-lit rooms, and dead-eyed women awaiting their call, they were as unsavoury a place as they came.
During his servitude to that bastard, Destonne, he’d been stationed in Malheim to tend to crying children in the filthy streets, investigate robberies, and aid those seeking refuge in the plentiful supply of Bone Ash.
But after witnessing so many atrocities, he needed release. Needed an outlet.
At first, he promised himself it would be a one-time thing, a moment of weakness; but as time went on, he frequented the Palace more often than he cared to admit. He knew it had become more than a small problem when they greeted him by name at the door, even with his alias and his hood drawn.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d assured himself he would stop. The desire grew like an itch under his skin and burrowed into his brain like a worm into soil. He wanted to stop, he just … couldn’t. Not yet.
Thank the gods his father couldn’t see him now.
Though he’d fled to Malheim and sought his usual room in the Scarlet Palace, today’s visit felt different.
He lay sprawled on the bed in only his undershorts, Nefeli tucked against him.
She fanned her golden hair across the pillow then skimmed her hand up and down his torso.
His skin pebbled under her fingertips, but also pointed to an unnamed, roaring desire that touch couldn’t fill. And it remained empty. Always empty.
With each heavy breath, her full breasts rose and fell, her nipples peaked. A small smile tugged at his mouth when she giggled. He fucking loved that sound. If he could make her laugh or smile at least once in his time with her, it was a good day.
In the past, he’d sampled the other Scarlet men and women, but Nefeli was who he preferred by far, enough that he’d permanently reserved her. He’d proposed the arrangement long ago, and though he was sure her Master had stolen the choice from her, she never seemed displeased by their time together.
In some deranged pocket of his mind, he believed he’d saved her, though he knew it was utter nonsense. At least this way she couldn’t be overworked or hurt by some creep, and every time he took her to bed, he always gave her the choice to participate. He swore he’d always give her that choice.
Once Scarlets took the blood bond, only their death could sever it, since their oaths were transferable if their Master passed away.
Nefeli’s former Master was a particularly nasty man: tall, thin, and weasel faced with pale greasy hair and an insatiable hunger for slate.
He’d died suddenly a couple months back, but the ownership was passed to his handsier son, preoccupied with the Scarlets to the point of obsession.
They were his investments after all and gods forbid he think of them as people.
And Vesper didn’t fucking trust the guy.
In fact, he took every opportunity he could to glare at the prick.
Vesper drew himself from his thoughts as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.
He could still taste her there. Still hear her soft sounds in his head.
His eyes followed the curves of her body, the deep slope of her waist that fit perfectly in his hands, her creamy skin, and the long sultry legs he’d become intimately acquainted with, particularly slung over his shoulders.
She was undoubtedly gorgeous and he should have been swept away by his time with her, but it just wasn’t what he needed.
Was it the lack of connection? No, fuck.
He couldn’t explain it, but there was always something missing.
One of her hands threaded through his hair and her other gripped his forearm. As she drew him closer, her eyes locked on his battered knuckles lit only by the dim light peeping through the shrouded window.
Her brows drew together as she ran her fingertip along the raw skin atop his hand where Briar had meticulously plucked out the mirror shards.
“I thought your cheek was bad. What happened?” she breathed.
He shivered from her featherlight touch. “Had a bit of an accident.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.
She gazed up at him with those soulful hazel eyes. “Does it hurt?”
Vesper shook his head. She didn’t need to know how it ached when he sobered. Luckily, right now, his buzz kept the pain at bay.
She brought his hand up to her lips and brushed a kiss over each knuckle. The tiny act of affection tugged at the unnamed need swollen inside him, but wasn’t enough to soothe it.
“That’s too bad.” She smiled up at him. “If it did, I could take your mind off the pain.”
Abruptly, he sat up and propped himself against the wall. As he tugged a hand through his hair, he chuckled, but it was hollow. Eager to steer the conversation away, he eyed the red duvet with a strange fuzz woven into the fabric, and observed, “New quilt?”
“It arrived a week or so ago. From the north, I think.” Likely noticing the darkness beneath his eyes, Nef’s gaze softened. “Are you okay? You seem … off.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been a little busy lately.”
That was a bloody understatement. Each day Ellynne’s restoration had encountered a whirlwind of problems, and he’d been ripping his hair out, not exactly equipped to deal with them in his drunken stupor.
A dramatic, sultry pout shaped her mouth. “What am I supposed to do in your absence?”
Vesper lifted a brow. “You don’t just wait around for me, do you?”
“Master Ottai doesn’t let us go out, so I sit in my room most days.” Nef’s mouth twisted to the side, her gaze fixed on the window like she could taste the freedom if she stared hard enough.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. As much as he didn’t want her trapped in the Palace, a part of him breathed a sigh of relief that her Master had kept his word and he remained her only client.
Though he suspected the mountain of slate he’d thrown down was the reason.
It wasn’t freedom for her by any means, but it was something.
“When was the last time you left this room?” he asked.
As Nef hid her face in her shoulder and shrugged, it squeezed his heart. It was answer enough. Her breath hitched and she coughed into her shoulder, a hard, dry sound. She took a shaky breath and coughed again.
Vesper’s brows drew together as he patted her back. She was a little paler than usual today. “Are you sick?”
“Just a tickle. It's more of an annoyance than anything.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s continue.”
But when she leaned toward him, he said, “Actually, I was thinking.” He swallowed hard, feeling stupidly sheepish. “Is it okay if we just … talk?”
“You want to cuddle?” She huffed a laugh, but when she caught the firm press of his mouth, Nef frowned. “Oh, uhm, did I do something wrong? You haven’t been around for months and—” A deep sigh slipped between her lips. “Every time you’re here, you never want to touch me.”
How could he tell her the guilt was eating him alive? That he was trying and failing at so many things. He clutched the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”
“Vesper, today I felt like I—I don’t know, had to coerce you.”
“Hey, no, that’s not it. Things have, well, they’ve changed.” And he didn’t know how to handle it yet.
Her bottom lip quivered and she bit down on it. Looked anywhere but at him. “You’re not leaving, are you? Because Ottai—he’s rather fond of your income. He wouldn’t be pleased if you left.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll always look after you.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I made a promise, remember? You know I care for you.” It had just never been in that way. In this twisted sort of relationship, they had always been friends. “Can I hold you?” Gods, he sounded pathetic.
Nef nodded, then drew the quilt over herself and settled against his side. “If that’s what you want.”
She kissed his cheek and smiled. For a moment, she almost looked happy. Every part of him wanted to believe it, even for a fleeting moment.
Even if it stained his soul and tarnished his family values.
Even if this was all a twisted lie and a bloody disaster of a situation.
And even if he was so pathetically desperate, he had to buy this morsel of affection.
Hours later, Vesper lay face down on a bar counter in a sleazy tavern. He didn’t remember laying his head down, nor could he identify why the counter was so sticky against his cheek.
A tap on his arm roused him enough to crack open an eyelid. He squinted through the fucking bright light as he gained his bearings.
An impossibly large man towered over him, his golden hair pulled back into a bun and a frown permanently etched on his face.
Callias slung Vesper's arm around his shoulder. Vesper beamed at him regardless of his friend's annoyance.
“Hey Cal,” he slurred. In his blurry vision he saw two, no three, of the bronze skinned man. “We—you should stay, I’ll buy.”
Cal sucked a breath through his teeth as he spotted Vesper’s left eye swollen shut, his split cheek, and a heavy smear of blood crusted around his ear.
“We're not staying,” Cal said, his voice brimming with disappointment. "You look terrible."
With a heavily muscled arm, Cal helped Vesper to his feet. Once he was upright Vesper sobered a little. His vision reduced to one Cal in front of him, and the head rush faded enough to grasp his speech.
“And you look great. You been working out?” Vesper limply punched Cal’s bicep and winced as his bloody fist connected. “Look at those things. You could wrestle a boar with your bare hands.”
As Vesper stumbled, Callias caught him under the arm. His friend’s nose screwed up in a grimace. “You stink like sex and ale.”
He bopped Cal’s nose with his forefinger. “My two favourite things.”
Callias sighed and his eyes fell shut. Maybe he was praying to Kahlia for strength. “What did you do, Vesper?”