Page 71 of Shadowlands Omega

Surprised, I blink and step away. His hand falls and so does the expression on his face. His fingers flex and clench. I feel like I’ve done something wrong again. “I-I was thinking we shouldn’t try to make it back through Paradise Hole tonight. Maybe we should stay at The Sea Witch. It’s an inn just north of the market, closer to the ports.”

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a funny look. “Zaoul’s Mistress is, shockingly, the nicer inn between the two. If you’d like to stay overnight, perhaps, we should rather stay there.”

I step close to him and beckon him to lower with the crook of a finger. His nostrils flare as he obeys. “For our other project…The Sea Witch may make more sense. Unless you would like to stay at the nicer one. I’m happy to stay at The Sea Witch by myself or with Cyprus. It might be easier anyway to get…informati…” The look on Yaron’s face is intended to scald and even I, a fire Omega, feel its heat. “Never mind?” I say, voice very small.

“Do not suggest sleeping without me again. Did we not discuss this several nights ago?”

I nod rapidly, just to avoid having this conversation out here, in front of so many strangers…and my brother. Cyprus is glaring at Lord Yaron now and I feel heat flame in my cheeks. “Let’s go then?”

He continues to glare at me for a beat, then nods. I move out ahead of him and am startled when he grabs my inner elbow. His glare is even more severe than it was before. He glances down. I glance down. He’s offered me his arm. I feel warmth in my chest and in my cheeks and in…other places as I coil my fingers along the underside of his forearm. He tightens his arm against his chest, pulling me close to him as he escorts me back through the market.

We take a turn before reaching the final stalls, which boast weapons and other metalware, veering back in the direction of the spice merchants. We’re in a bit of a strange area of the market, one I’ve never been to before. It boasts exotic and precious goods, all of them outside of my family’s budget and cooking needs.

There are armed personnel outside of most of the stalls in this section and they don’t seem to eye Yaron with much interest. I get the feeling that they might be hired mercenaries who respect his Lordship as much or rather, as little, as they respect anyone else.

Lord Yaron stops outside of a stall whose contents are blocked from sight by a black curtain. A man stands out front. He’s older, white, and wears a blank expression as Yaron approaches.

“I’m here to pick up from Ivreness.”

“Have you placed an order?”

“Yes. I sent someone ahead.”

The man grumbles something under his breath sounding likelittle Lords and their pretty coppersbut I don’t hear the rest. Yaron’s lips purse and he pulls me tighter to him and I do my best to ignore the way his hard chest feels against my arm. The man doesn’t return, but a woman does. She’s got medium brown skin that’s utterly flawless and jet-black hair that falls in smooth waves to her lower back. She might be ten years Yaron’s senior, but I wouldn’t blame him at all if he took her for a lover or even more than that. She’s absolutely stunning.

“So this is who it’s for, I’m guessing?” she says with a grin as she hands over a small gold jar.

Yaron grunts.

She looks me over once more, assessing me in a way I’m not certain I like…until she says, “Oh yes. I can see it.” And just like that, I’m irrationally pleased. “I made it to your specifications.”

“Thank you, Ivreness.” Yaron reaches beneath his cloak and produces a pouch which jingles loudly when he hands it over. He hasn’t paid for anything himself yet. He has his Riders for that. But this he buys himself. Hm. Curious. I crane my neck and stand up on my tip toes, leaning across him to try to see it, but he just tucks the little gold jar quickly into his cloak’s inner pocket.

“It’ll shine like the sun, even in the dark.” Yaron is nodding at Ivreness’s words, even as she turns away from him. “It’s also edible, as you asked.”

“What’s she talking about, Yaron?” I ask him.

But his cheeks are splotchy with red as he mutters gruffly, “Nothing.”

He doesn’t speak to me again until we’re out of the Night Market, traversing the ports and approaching another lively section of town. A few low buildings made of wood are illuminated by bright lanterns. People mill about in the small square, laughing and shouting and drinking. A cluster of couples are dancing near the entrance of the first inn we pass, or, well… I suppose it isn’t so much an inn as it is a brothel.

Women with their bosoms out hang from the balconies, clambering for Yaron’s attention. He ignores them, but I look up and they laugh shrilly when they get my attention. “Shadow Lady, come join us with or without your Lord!” They shriek with a laughter that’s infectious. I can’t help it. As Yaron tows me along, I laugh, too.

“Don’t encourage them,” he mumbles.

“They seem nice.”

He balks and shakes his head. “You’d like to join them, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

His lips twitch with an unreleased smile as he tows me another few buildings down where the wide-open doorway of The Sea Witch beckons wayward travelers. We step inside and not a soul looks up. Well, maybe a soul or two, but the vast majority of the bar is too deep into their drink to notice the entrance of the Shadow Lord and his companions.

“Stay close to me, Kiandah.” He has to speak directly into my ear to be heard as he leads me towards the bar that spans the entire left wall.

“No one will want to talk to me about Trash City with you standing right next to me.”

“Is that why we’re here?”

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