Page 21 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

He sighed. “I am not going to the seamstresses again for your dresses. I would soon rather train Kaydence in combat.”

Emara laughed, and a pain in her wrists reminded her of how she needed a healer. “Well, actually, it involves going to a tavern.” She looked over at him, and his eyes had lit up under the restricted moonlight. “And I am in no state to go to a tavern like this. Naya would scorn me for not getting healed.”

Artem moved in front of her, and his golden eyes lit like sparkling gold. “Tavern, you say? Now we are talking. Spill.”

The heart-racing beat thrummed through La Luna as all sorts of creatures found pleasure in song, dance, and liquor—perhaps in each other too. A hazy smoke passed through sparkling, coloured lights as it washed away the crowd’s troubles, adding a layer of mystery and privacy to the tavern. Bodies moved, writhed, and pulsed to the music as drinks were downed, and laughter could be heard as a second harmony to the music.

It was home. And she was glad to be back from the hunt in one piece. She had known about the hunt tonight because of Roman, and only Roman knew of her escapade in the Ashdale Forest to join them. Waylen didn’t know, which was why she’d had to remain in the shadows. But La Luna was packed tonight, and it was time to get to work.

This tavern was her favourite place to be. Lately, she would rather work until exhaustion claimed her than listen to the silence in her own head. Ever since losing Eli in the battle of the blood moon, it seemed too quiet around her cottage, a little lacklustre. But here? There wasn’t room for silence or anything dull. That was the good thing about a crowded tavern—no one seemed to be missing, sad, or gone forever. Most people in here meant nothing to each other but a good time and fond memories. La Luna represented the present, not the past. Everyone lived in the moment.

It had been a while since she’d gotten to fight the Dark Army, and every demon she got to slay with her own fangs was another point to the Baxgroll pack for every life they’d claimed of her blood. When she had heard a girl scream in the forest, she had assumed that a villager was being attacked. She’d been shocked to find it was no ordinary girl, but the Empress of Air.

They had hung out a few times. Emara came here when her world got too much and she wanted to let her hair down. She felt comfortable around the wolves, and she should, because they would always have her back after what she’d done for her brother in his last moments. The Baxgroll pack would always be fond of Emara Clearwater for taking Eli’s pain before he passed.

And Breighly had been at the Tower when Emara had unexpectedly wanted advice on how to deal with men in politics and the newest fashions.

She liked the empress, respected her. She was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy world full of traditions.

As Breighly stood behind the bar, a dark-haired gentleman in a black velour suit moved, sleek and smooth, towards her. His skin was deathly white and his eyes looked like stars had congregated to form a new galaxy. His lips pulled into a cruel smile that rendered him dark and dangerous, and it accentuated his jawline that could cut through marble. Even though the magic of her blood ignited to tell her that he was threatening and savage, his charismatic charm pulled her in and lured her to watch him.

Vampire.

He placed his elbow on the bar and his enticing eyes wandered around the bottles displayed behind her. She could tell by the power radiating from him that he was a very old vampire despite looking to be her age. It seemed he was an extremely rich vampire, too, given the way he dressed. There was no weapon belt around his waist, nor was anything malfitting on his form. He was immaculate.

“I will take a glass of red, please,” he said, finally pinning her where she stood with his black irises sparkling.

Foe or not, he was strikingly handsome. An animal dressed as a gentleman; a dangerous predator with a smile so wicked it could stop hearts.

Exactly her type.

Breighly leaned forward, making sure her neck was on show. She had just escaped danger tonight, but she was happy to find herself dancing on the edge of it again. “Are you looking for fresh red or bottled?”

A dangerous glint made his eyes a little darker. “You serve fresh?”

Breighly combed her hair to one side, exposing even more of her skin to him. She was a natural at flirting, and she didn’t even want to consider where that trait came from. “At La Luna, we cater for all of the Gods’ creatures.”

The vampire’s alluring face was so inviting yet so very feral, and as he smiled a true grin, his long fangs glistened under the lights and rested on his full lips. “I am ecstatic to hear that.” His melodic voice drifted over the bar like a hand stroking her face, and the animal in her purred.

The wolf was awake. And heated.

Breighly smiled back. “I am happy to help.”

She liked this guy. even though he was a vampire. Fuck it. She didn’t care if they kept themselves to themselves and everyone knew little about them. It didn’t matter that the prime were reluctant to involve themselves with this faction, shunning one of Vanadey’s creatures.

He was cool, calm, and collected. He was mature—he probably was eight hundred years old—but he had a sophistication about him that a wolf didn’t normally have.

Neither did hunters.

“On ice or heated?” she said, dropping her voice low, knowing he would hear the change over the music with his talented ears.

He leaned in a little closer as a corner of his mouth turned up. “Body temperature.”

She laughed out loud.

She was a sucker for a funny guy.

No pun intended.

---