Page 51 of Bound By Darkness

“Elves don’t sleep,” I respond as I chew my lower lip and recall the conversation I just overheard.

“Right, but they also don’t skulk around unless they have reason.” He eyes me narrowly. “Were you attempting to visit Eilish?”

“No, you bloody prick!” I rail at him in an angry whisper. “Contrary to your opinion, not everything revolves around that fucking Succubus!”

“I didn’t say it did,” he grumbles but he appears embarrassed all the same. As well he should! The asshole can’t seem to get his goddamned mind off that girl. It was more than obvious at the dinner table this evening. The two of them and Baron were up to something. I find the whole subject quite irritating.

Rolling my eyes, I kick his foot to get him to move his massive body out of the way so I can walk to the bed. Dragan frowns as he then glances up at my newly acquired outfit.

“Your taste in clothing really leaves something to be desired,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask and look down at myself to take in my baggy velvet trousers that are quite a lovely shade of emerald green. The trousers terminate at my knees and tuck into a pair of tall, black leather boots. My sleeveless brocade tunic is open in the front and features a paisley pattern in mustard yellow and scarlet red. I wear a black leather belt atop the tunic at hip level, and a white, frilly poet’s shirt beneath. To finish the stately ensemble is a royal blue overcoat, tailored at the waist and made of supreme velvet.

“You look like a fucking story-book pirate,” Dragan chuckles. “But then, I guess you’ve never left Geldingstock until mostrecently, so you have no idea about modern conveniences, let alone modern fashion.”

I look at his long black, leather jacket that trails to his ankles, his black tight-legged trousers and his black, fitted cotton shirt with disinterest. “If modern fashion is exemplified by your getup, I’m grateful for my banishment.” Then I clear my throat and glare at him. “We have more important things to discuss than my sense of fashion and your lack thereof.”

“Continue,” Dragan responds with a grunt.

“Variant’s men are searching for angels.”

“No shit.”

The big ape doesn’t get it. “That means anyone who sees us will notice how much Eilish resembles an angel.”

“Because she is one,” he points out unnecessarily.

“Halfone.”

“Regardless…”

“Regardless, yes, she certainly looks full-blood angel,” I admit. “Thus, we have to ensure she’s out of sight at all times.”

“Agreed,” he says as he stands, apparently ill-at-ease with me looking down at him. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I overheard Raflamir and Saevel discussing the Succubus just now.”

“Can you please call her by her fucking name?”

“No,” I answer snidely.

“Jesus, you’re such a constant fucking thorn in my side.”

“The feeling is mutual, my barbarian friend,” I respond. “Regardless, Saevel apparently recognized the demoness to be an angel immediately.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And?”

“And she believes Raflamir should turn us over to Variant.”

“Fuck,” Dragan whispers. He falls silent again but begins pacing the small room, which causes my nerves chagrin.

“Would you please stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”

“You and your fucking nerves,” he rails as he shakes his head, coming to a stop next to me. “You sound like an old woman. Are you feeling faint, as well, Cambion? Do you require smelling salts for fuck’s sake?”

“Haha, very funny,” I mutter. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe Raflamir will follow Saevel’s advice.”

“It’snoconsolation, because you don’t know for sure.” Dragan starts pacing again. “We must confront Raflamir,” he continues, his expression harsh. “If either of them tries to sound an alarm, we kill them or we take them hostage.” He pauses and looks over at me. “The Steward of Earlann has to be worth something, right?”

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