Page 211 of Evil Hearts

“I’m aware, sweetheart. Given the circumstances, though, the buyer has no further interest in remaining, and surely Fyttoren & Flynn would prefer to keep a low profile,” Ruven said in an apologetic voice, rasping and basso.

At least, I thought it was Ruven. That voice was nothing like the silvery lilt of the man who’d purchased me. But, no—it was Ruven. Iknewit was Ruven.

I craned my neck, trying to peer around the corner to where the purchasers would clear their debts and claim their new bondservants. I caught a glimpse of a woman in black speaking to a man in silver brocade. A human in the same exact clothing Ruven had been wearing—a washed-out blond man with a crew-cut and a stippling of dark freckles, but with the same build and clothing as Ruven.

He glanced up and saw me looking. With the tiniest hint of a smirk, Ruven flashed me a wink.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. My two-day primer on Faery had mostly focused on etiquette, service, and bargains, but the smattering of information I knew included the fact that some fae had magic, and that the most common magic was thatof glamor—illusion. Whatever strange force linked me to Ruven clearly didn’t care about outward appearances.

Even as I thought that, though, the woman ran an amulet across his face, hands, and a piece of parchment on her desk, then let out a sharp huff of annoyance. “Fine. Since you’re clean of glamor and you’ve got a blood-sealed writ, I’ll allow it,” she said in an irritated voice, and stamped the document. “Fyttoren & Flynn appreciates your master’s patronage. You may claim lot number fourteen at your leisure.”

Not glamor?I thought, dazed.But… but that’s not the same man!

Ruven picked up the parchment and folded it in half without so much as a flicker of a smile. “I’ll just be doing that,” he said roughly, shouldering past the desk as he tucked the writ of sale into his doublet. His eyes fixed on me without hesitation. “Lot number fourteen,” he said flatly. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t want to go anywhere with some sort of doppelganger creature, but I didn’t have any options. Ruven had purchased my bond, and the spell that had saved my life was bound to my obedience.

With a careful inhale, trying not to freak out, I got up and walked over to him. Every step felt preordained, as if there was nothing I could have ever done but walk across the gritty slate floor to meet Ruven.

His eyes landed on the dark leather of my collar and narrowed. He didn’t spare me more than that glance before he turned and started walking back the way he’d come.

I followed, almost having to trot to keep up with him. Ruven wasn’t that much taller than me, but he had long legs, and he put them to work. His spotless equestrian-style boots (that had clearly never come within six feet of an actual horse) crunched on the gravel as he strode out into the lantern-lit night. Despite the foppish clothing, muscles bunched in his thighs and ass, thesort of strength thatdidcome from riding. He looked like he could hold himself on a horse without even thinking about it.

My skin chilled when I caught sight of actual horses, a pair of handsome chestnut geldings hitched to a simple black carriage, like something out of a regency romance. Ruven opened the door and gestured me in. I didn’t need encouragement to get away from the animals. The vehicle squeaked when I climbed in, the springs clearly needing some oiling.

There wasn’t anyone else inside, but why would there have been? Ruven was already behind me, masquerading as his own servant.

He all but climbed on top of me, shoving me in with his own body. “Ballizen Inn!” he called up to the driver, before slamming the door shut and dropping onto one of the two benches. “Sit,” he told me, rapping on the door.

I did. A heartbeat later, the carriage jolted into motion, squeaking away.

“Whoare—”

“I’m a shapeshifter, I’m a spy, and I’m an idiot,” Ruven said in a low hiss. He started tearing at the buttons of his doublet. “Buying you was a stupid thing to do, let alone buying you likethat. I give it twenty minutes, maximum, before someone tries to hunt us down and kill us.” He got the doublet off and chucked it across the bench next to me, tackling his boots. “That face certainly didn’t have ten thousand fucking gold to his name. I had to pay it out of my estate, and as soon asthatgets out, the hunters will surely be on us like flies on a pig’s ass.”

“So why—”

“Because you’re my fucking soulmate, and as I mentioned, I’m an idiot,” he snapped, still keeping his voice below the protective screen of the carriage-springs. Ruven yanked off his shirt, baring pale skin, and went for his belt. “Syalin’s going to besofucking pissed. We’ve spent gods-damnyearsworking to get an inviteto one of these auctions, and I fucking ruined it because my instincts are shit. This is so much worse than Lady Mellinae, and he didn’t speak to me formonths—”

There was no way I was getting a word in edgewise around that rant. I shoved myself across the carriage, ending up halfway on his lap, and covered his mouth with my hand. A shock of heat streaked down my arm and spine, like I’d grabbed a live wire, sending my heart into a thudding race. Ruven stared up at me out of pale eyes, his pulse visible in his throat and his pants shoved halfway down his thighs.

I didn’t look down. My peripheral vision gave me plenty of evidence that he wasn’t wearing anything under those pants and that the curtainsdefinitelymatched the drapes. “You can explain later,” I told him, heart (and maybe other locations) pounding. “Right now, I think all I need to know is why you’re getting naked and what I need to do to not get murdered in the next twenty minutes.”

He shuddered underneath me, breathing going labored. His pupils dilated, dark swallowing the pale blue of his iris, then taking it over, leaving Ruven looking up at me out of black-irised eyes with what looked an awful lot like raw need.

While I watched, the rounded curve of human ears slid out into the sharp points of fae ones, Ruven’s face shifting from generically handsome to striking. His bone structure grew more defined: brows heavier, cheekbones sharper, jaw squaring off and nose going from mundane to aquiline. His close-cropped blond hair fell down into gleaming black waves. The pale ruddiness of his skin gave way to Mediterranean olive, smooth and freckle-free.

His shoulders widened; spine and limbs lengthened, taking him from maybe five foot ten to at least six foot three. The wiry strength of a lean man changed into the hard planes of a swordsman without a single hair to mar his silk-smooth skin.

He was still Ruven. I still recognized him. He was still my…soulmate?

What a weird thought. What a weirdsituation.

Ruven nuzzled my palm, his hot breath skimming between my fingers. “I’m getting naked because this clothing is far too identifiable, and I’d like not to be shot full of arrows tonight. I was going to shift into a woman’s form and put on that cloak,” he said, tilting his head towards the other bench, where a square of folded black cloth sat, “but I don’t think I want to wear such a form right now, even if it might help us escape being waylaid. Not with you in my lap.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I whispered, fixated on the look of hunger painted on his face. Fuck. When was the last time a man had looked at me like that, let alone a man who looked likethis?

“I think I’m far beyond that.” Moving with controlled strength, Ruven tugged his pants off, freeing his legs one at a time. “You want to live? Pass me the cloak,” he said, not taking his eyes off of me, “and when I give you the signal, jump out of the carriage.”

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