Page 24 of Last Ride of the Umbra Fae

I nodded. I could only imagine how elaborate the rooms would be if the tavern looked like this. My body ached for a bath, a nice hot one with steam curling into the air and a cup of coffee on a table nearby.

I had felt Ryder’s stare the whole time as I walked away, and I let the bastard have his fill. But I didn’t need to look behind me to know he had already left.

Pa grabbed his drink, and I followed him down a poorly lit corridor, save for the few sconces in need of new candles. For a second, I thought our luck had run out. The smoke-filled hall had a musky scent that made me want to pinch my nose, but when he led me up the stairs, it smelled like roses. It was a whole other atmosphere up here.

Golden sconces lined the corridor, and an antique table with a few old books stood every ten feet or so. One in particular stuck out: a royal blue book gilt with a golden spine with two clashing swords above the title. I slowed my pace to observe the cover, a picture of a woman with long, flowing hair holding two moons facing opposite directions. I couldn’t read very well, but I still found comfort between the pages. Maybe tonight, I would try to read it. I quickly opened my coat and slipped it beneath my arm. Pa snuck a glance my way and smiled.

The walls were a deep turquoise with ornate crown molding and an intricate trim carved out of mahogany wood.

“I’ll be here.” He pointed to room thirty-seven. Then at the end of the hall, he pointed to Ryder’s. “That’s his, and up those stairs are yours. I got you the suite.”

Of course he did.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, smiling faintly, even though I felt I didn’t deserve any of it.

“Because, you deserve it,” he replied as if sensing my own thoughts.

“Are my eyes that readable?” I smirked.

“Too readable.” He tilted his hat. “If looks could kill, Raven and Ryder be damned.” With that, he winked.

I swallowed hard and blinked back.

Yup, his words were like a punch to the gut.

I watched him disappear into his room as I was left standing in the corridor with flushed cheeks and a thrumming pulse.I belong to no one.

My eyes widenedas I entered my room—a large space that had an already lit hearth off to the side next to a plum purple settee with a rolled and tufted back. I sat down on the plush cushion, running both hands down the fabric.

Velvet.

On the other side of this area were a set of chairs and a table leading to a private washroom with mahogany sliding doors. Against the half wall was a king-sized bed and a side table full of fresh pastries. A welcoming pot of coffee greeted me, steaming into the air.

No matter what Pa thought, I didn’t deserve any of this.

I spent the next hour scrubbing my skin raw and dousing my hair with the floral liquid, massaging it until I felt no more speckles of dirt. I enjoyed my warm cup of coffee, occasionally reaching out of the clawed tub for a sip, uncaring if I was being messy.

I put on a clean button-up top, leaving the last few buttons undone, and slipped on a pair of black cotton pants that fit me like a glove and hugged just above my navel. I sighed in delight as I slipped on a fresh pair of socks. The relief was short-lived as I immediately put my boots back on. I could never fully sleep without them, always feeling like I had to be ready to go if need be.

I pulled back the curtain by the table and looked out into the sandy, ivory roads. The sun was setting, casting a fiery glow over the entire town.

There was a knock at my door—four quick taps. Keeping tendrils of magic at my fingertips, I quickly strode over and opened it.

“Hello, Desert Storm.” Ryder stood in the hall with something behind his back and a smirk that had my brow curling. I quickly observed that he too was in fresh clothes, hair still slightly damp, wet tips brushing against the black, sleeveless shirt that clung to his body. He looked and smelled divine. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

My heart unexpectedly sped up.

I crossed my arms and shifted a hip to the side. There was an odd, mischievous glint to his blue eyes.

“I’m too tired to give you a rope-tying lesson,” I said facetiously.

He grunted and, in the same breath, held out a freshly baked pie between us.

My brows knit in confusion as I slowly read the tag aloud. “For…Molly. Who’s Molly?” I said, looking up at him. No matterwho she was, it was enough to let him enter. I stepped to the side.

He smirked as he walked through the doorway, looking around to find the table, the spurs to his cowboy boots clanking with every stride.

“Some sad little widow, I guess.” The cadence of his voice had a wicked smile curving my lips.

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