Chapter 12
MAE
We find a local tavern—The Fox Den—sandwiched between a tailor’s shop and an indoor market.
The door chimes as we step inside and, like a gentleman, Asmo pulls a barstool out for me.
The fabric is worn, as if thousands of people have sat here before me.
The faded seats, the clinking of glasses, and the sharp smell of alcohol remind me of the tavern Cally and I used to visit every weekend. A wave of homesickness washes over me.
“This is my favorite way to learn about a town. Just listening to the conversations around us,” Asmo’s deep voice whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my neck. A shiver of pleasure rolls its way down my spine.
“And that’s what you like to do on your dates?”
He pulls out the seat beside me. “I thought you’d learned by now that it doesn’t matter what we do together. Training, arguing, people watching—it makes no difference.”
“What do you mean?”
He signals the bartender, then looks back to me, his gaze searing. “You know exactly what I mean.”
He’s right. Before the wedding, it didn’t matter what Asmo said or did—the pull to him was stronger every minute I spent with him. The fury he incited in me did nothing to lessen that.
“Get you?” the bartender asks, pulling Asmo’s attention away from me.
“Two beers.”
The bartender pours two tall glasses of the light ale and slides them over, not bothering to spare us another glance. Asmo leans back in his chair, his legs spreading until his knee is resting against mine. I don’t move my leg.
He pulls my chair closer to his and throws his arm around the back of it, fingertips brushing against my shoulder, every graze feeling like a burst of fire.
He dips his head, lowering his mouth to my ear. “What I feel for you. It’s always there.” His voice is rough, low. My stomach does that thing again where it twists. “Even if all we ever did was fight, it would still be there. So, it makes no difference.”
Every word is true, a caress against my net.
From the moment I met him, all we’ve managed to do is clash against one other.
Yet, that tug toward him remains, strengthens even.
Even if it feels like a constant cycle of two beings colliding again and again, then trying to salvage whatever they can from the wreckage.
But right now, it doesn’t feel like a collision. It feels natural, and warm, and maybe a little bit like home.
His thumb strokes rhythmic patterns on my shoulder, and we people-watch for another beer.
A couple sits together in the corner, hunched over a game of chess.
A group of hybrids sit around a table exchanging raucous tales of debauchery.
A mother and her teenage son share a basket of bread and cheese.
I wonder if Asmo sees the couple in the corner. I wonder if he wishes that might be us some day.
It’s been months since I’ve felt like a normal person, since I’ve even thought about sitting in a tavern. Since I’ve gone anywhere without a team of people looking after me. Since I’ve felt safe.
Asmo turns to me, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Ever played billiards?”
A grin spreads across my face.
He downs his beer and places it on the bar. He offers me his hand, and I accept. I can’t help but think about how this is the most our hands have ever touched. Asmo’s hands, even in this body, are nice. They’re big, his fingers strong, his palms rough and calloused.
He leads me to an empty billiards table, one hand on the small of my waist. As he meticulously racks the billiard balls, a sharp crack and raucous laughter come from our left.
Two Canis males have just finished a game, and one of them toasts me with his beer when he catches me looking.
Sometimes I forget how friendly Canis are, unlike the male beside me who’s currently wearing a rare grin as he circles the table, as if he’s already won.
Game on, Asmo.
We play two games, each of us winning one. He heads back to the bar for another round as I set up the next game, buzzing from the alcohol and the anticipation of kicking his ass.
“You know, you’re not bad at billiards, but you’d do a lot better if you put some power behind your shots,” Asmo says, returning with a frosted glass pitcher of the light ale.
I roll my eyes. “How badly were you beaten last game?”
His crooked smile is answer enough. “Mind if I show you?”
“By all means,” I say, gesturing to the table.
He grabs one of the polished sticks and hands it to me. He steps behind me, lining his body with mine before gently guiding me to the edge of the billiards table until the fronts of my thighs are pressed against it. He slides his hand down my arm, stopping just above my hand.
“Bend over,” Asmo whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine again.
My body instinctively reacts, my backside pressing into his crotch.
Oh. I’m not the only one who’s turned on. Heat rises to my cheeks.
His left hand guides the billiards stick up while his right hand guides my own into position.
“Now, bring this arm back and use some of your power to drive it forward,” he whispers against my neck, bringing my right arm back and firing it forward.
The black cue ball shoots forward, sending the target balls in every direction.
I turn in his arms, a smile on my face. “That was my best one yet!”
“If you win this one, you have to give me the credit,” he says, his voice husky and low.
“And if I don’t?” I tease, desperately trying to cling to any sense of control I have when I’m pressed this close to him. Even in different bodies, our chemistry is undeniable. As if our very souls pull toward one another.
“You have to make everything hard, don’t you?” he growls.
“It certainly feels like I do,” I say a little breathlessly as I press my hips further into his.
His eyes dart to my mouth. My head feels light at the memory of his lips on mine. Of his lips on my—
“Get a room!” someone yells in our direction.
Asmo’s eyes darken. “Sorry, man.” He forces a smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
He pulls away from me, revealing the two wolf hybrids watching us from the billiards table beside us.
The taller one has sandy-blond hair and eyes the color of a storm cloud, while the shorter one has straight black hair and eyes the color of the sky.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, not faking the blush on my cheeks. “We just got married,” I lie, hoping that’s enough for them to get off our backs.
“No way!” the taller male says. “Congrats!” He walks over to us and offers a hand to Asmo. “I’m Flint. This is Firo.” Asmo takes Flint’s hand and shakes it briefly. I offer them both a smile. “You two don’t look like you’re from around here.”
Asmo chuckles. “Is it that obvious?”
“We’re from the Deer Court. Well, I am. This is my first time traveling outside of my court,” I say, feigning shyness and hoping it comes across as genuine. Technically, it’s not a lie.
“Welcome to the Court of Wolves!” Flint lets loose a howl and pulls me in for a hug. Asmo goes rigid, but the wolf hybrid lets me go.
I can’t help but laugh. “Thanks. Anything we should make sure to check out while we’re here?”
Flint’s smile disappears. “Actually, about that…It’s not exactly a great time to be traveling around the town…” He looks at Firo hesitantly and rubs the back of his neck.
“Why’s that?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Witches.
“Well, between you and me…” He leans forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The witches are becoming a problem. Not just around here, but across the kingdom. And we’re seeing more of the Cursed…” he trails off, as if expecting me to gasp or ask him for more information.
I play my part with a sharp inhale. “The Cursed?”
He buys it. He nods apologetically, like he’s sorry he’s the one that has to break the news of the horrors that now plague the kingdom. “Creepy undead monsters the witches control. They only come out at night, but they’re terrifying.”
Just like with the shopkeeper, I don’t fake my shudder. “How do you know that?” Even though we saw witches in the human town, I don’t recall any mention of this being a kingdom-wide problem in any of the newspapers Ivan’s brought home.
His grin threatens to split his face. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. I only tell my secrets to pretty girls. But you’re taken, so I’m going out on a limb here, okay?”
Asmo stiffens beside me at the blatant flirtation. The balls on Flint…
I play into it and lean in closer to him, holding out my right pinky. “Pinky promise,” I say with a flirtatious smile.
He wraps his pinky around mine and lowers his voice even further. “Prince August is my cousin, and he told me that the witches are becoming a problem. He told me all that.” He beams.
I freeze at the truth in his words, then remember the role I’m playing. “You’re kidding!” I say with a dramatic gasp.
Flint’s expression is smug. He’s either a fucking idiot or a hell of a liar. But I’m not feeling any deception. Fucking idiot, then.
“I’ve always wanted to meet him,” I say, and a plan begins to take hold.
A shoddy, spur-of-the-moment plan that only a fucking idiot would agree to.
“You know what? I have a single friend. She’s gorgeous.
She might be a good match for August. Wait, now that I think about it…
She might be a good match for you, too.”
Flint’s expression turns from smug to cautious. “Oh, I dunno.”
Fuck.
“I think she mentioned recently going out with Prince Koa, didn’t she? I’m not sure if she’s still single,” Asmo says from beside me, and I want to wrap him in my arms and kiss his beautiful brain for catching onto my last-minute plan.
“Oh, you’re right. Too bad, huh?” I say in faux disappointment.
“Well, wait. She must be gorgeous, huh? And you think she’d be a good fit for me?” Flint asks hopefully.
He really is a fucking idiot.
I place my finger on my chin and look at the ceiling for a moment as I pretend to consider this. “I think it might be a good match, but I also think she would be good with Prince August from what I’ve heard about him.”
“He does have a thing for deer hybrids,” Firo mutters to Flint. I could kiss Firo right now, too.
Flint twists his mouth as he considers the offer. “But is she with Koa?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. Nothing official yet, at least. Maybe you and Prince August could meet her, see if anything clicks,” I offer.
“If she’s good enough for Koa…” Flint says, raising his eyebrows at Firo, who just shrugs. A man of few words.
“Hey, think about it,” I say with a warm smile. “We’ll be here for a little longer. I’m happy to bring her back with us one day soon. Just let me know.”
I grab Asmo’s hand and lead him back to the bar. We both order waters this time.
“You’re lucky that happened. I was about to annihilate you in another game,” I say with a wink.
“Bullshit,” he says, nudging me with his elbow. “Hey, you did good back there.”
“Don’t act so surprised. But also, if we can pull this off…I’ll never question my luck again. And if he really is August’s cousin, August needs to know what he’s up to. Who knows how many pretty girls he’s telling this information to?”
My sloppy plan works. Only ten minutes pass before Flint walks back up to us.
We meet with August in three days.