Page 37 of Luca

“Glad to hear it, though if it can be helped, I’d rather use your abilities as a barkeeper than those with a bow,” I said, and she tilted her head, listening to my proposition. “My scouts are doing what they can to track down the culprit, though I believe we’d benefit from more eyes and ears in the places where secrets are often spilled and the gossip is rife. As the owner of such an establishment myself, it’s something of a common theme for drunken souls to put their trust in the ones who pour their drink.”

At the beginning of our time in the human realm, Teighan would often complain about the nights he’d have to suffer through the rambles of an intoxicated patron who’d lounge on one of the barstools, sharing their life story and lamenting their greatest woes, uncaring that my brother couldn’t have given less of a shit about them or their recent breakup. Despite it often being a fruitless endeavor—Tee had limited patience—it had become a useful way to learn the inner goings on of my people, a tool to gather any information that would offer me an advantage in certain situations.

A tool I was counting on now.

The naga made a sound of realization, her slitted pupils expanding. “I understand completely, and I will make you aware of anything we hear that may be of interest to you and your cause.”

“Thank you.”

“May I be so bold as to advise that there is also power in the circulation of whispers?” she said, and I gestured for her to continue. “If a specific rumor—say, a royal guard being on its way to drag those responsible back to the palace—was to spark here and be carried from one drunken creature to the next inn, then the next, then the next, perhaps you’ll startle your opponent out of hiding much quicker. No one makes foolish missteps quite like a scared little fox that believes it has been cornered.”

My face split with a wicked grin. “Oh, I like you.”

She laughed. “I am merely an old soul, doing whatever I can to help.”

“May I know your name?”

“Elysia, Your Highness,” she said, her forked tongue flicking out on the s’s. I’d mention her name to Rathe, and ask him to make sure she and her family wanted for nothing. I might even hire her, if she was so inclined. “Now, you head on back up to your mate, and trust that everything here is in order. Just let me heat up some broth for you to take to him. It should help him sleep, and settle any lingering effects of the reapers.” She gestured to the end of the bar. “Take a seat, I’ll be a moment.”

I dipped my head in gratitude. “Your assistance will not be forgotten.”

Once I had the bowl of soup in hand, I headed back upstairs with a sense of relief that I’d been missing for the past twenty-four hours. It would always gratify me to know we could rely on our people, and it set my mind at ease having other measures now in place to catch whoever was responsible. It would not erase what had happened, and going forward, I would take extra precautions to be sure that Luca’s safety was paramount, but it allowed me the chance to breathe. Which, after all my “mother-henning” as he called it, I was sure my mate would greatly appreciate.

I nodded to Cee as I passed her in the corridor before nudging the door open with my hip. “I brought you soup, pet, but you don’t have to eat it if?—”

Words stuck in my throat, and all intelligent thoughts flitted from my head as my eyes fixed on the unexpected display that greeted me on the other side of the room.

My mate was no longer in bed where I’d left him. Nor was he in the armchair by the fire where I might have expected him to relocate. No, he stood near the entryway to the bathroom, stock still and breathing shakily, wearing nothing but a baby-blue nightdress…

And panties.

My cock throbbed.

“Do you like it?” he asked nervously, beginning to fidget in my silence.

My gaze snapped to his, and I hoped he saw the purple flicker of my irises as they conveyed my answer. I barely had enough presence of mind to kick the door closed behind me, let alone form a coherent sentence with how rapidly my blood flowed south. Thankfully, rationality hadn’t yet abandoned me entirely, as I was able to carefully set down the bowl on the side table before advancing on him like a starving hound.

Luca yelped as I gripped the undersides of his bare thighs and lifted him with little effort. He recovered quickly, crossing his legs around my waist and clinging on tight, a puff of air escaping his lax mouth as his back connected with the wall. I leaned into him, pinning him there before crushing our lips together, drinking down his pleased groan. His hands drifted from my shoulders to the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair and tugging on the strands.

I kissed him harder, growling into his mouth as the wet slide of our tongues fueled my hunger.

He tastes so sweet.

“Welcome back,” Luca panted against my mouth as we parted, a note of humor in his voice. I still couldn’t find the words to respond, so instead, I explored.

My hand roved over my mate’s chiffon-covered belly, watching his muscles flex and goose bumps rise as my fingers grazed his belly button before trailing upward. I admired the way the fabric cinched around his ribcage then flared out to drape over the tops of his soft thighs, the lace trim weighing it down. The sheer material hugged the delicate curve of his pecs, accentuating his nipples as they hardened under my gaze. I couldn’t help but brush my thumb over one of those rosy peaks, delighting in how he arched into the touch.

“My heart, you look resplendent,” I said easily, my voice already gruff.

“Yeah?”

I hummed absently, distracted by thoughts of all the filthy things I wanted to do to prove how much I desired him. Dropping to my knees and worshipping him with my tongue until he cried was my current favorite. “Is this my surprise from the market?”

“Yeah.” His fingers flexed against my neck. “Wanted to try something new.”

“I approve.” I carefully set him down before lowering myself to the floor at his feet, unable to deny myself the pleasure any longer. Leisurely, I traced the intricate lace pattern at the edges of the dress with my fingertips, praising each stitch as it twisted into a delicate yet detailed swirl.

A soft laugh came from above. “Bit late to act all gentle, don’t you think?” He gave an impatient wiggle. “You body slammed me into the wall.”

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