Page 56 of The Sorcerer's Thief
After a tense few breaths, the bed dips with his weight. He doesn’t touch me as he settles in, which is fine. I don’t want him to. My skin smells of his periwinkle soap, which is enough of a reminder without touch to muddle things further.
Just my luck to fall for a murderous scoundrel who would dare steal from the thief he just fucked into the mattress.
By the weeds, my friends back at home are going to love this guy. I can hear them now, their teasing. That I’ve met my match. Someone to trouble me as much as I’ve troubled them over the years. I know they don’t need me anymore—my skills have been made obsolete—but maybe there’s still a place for me among them.
Maybe even with a broken, irritating, lying sorcerer at my side.
A wave of homesickness adds to my teary mood. I sniffle. We’re close to Irondale. It’s the next real town and the last one before the sea. If only I can convince Julian we can handle his mission without turning him into a killer. We can claim his vengeance another way.
Together.
With or without the stupid coin.
Chapter 18
Julian
If the coin won’t help me, I’ll have to forge ahead alone. My magic has grown since the Dark Waters held me in their clutches. My power has grown.
My rage has grown.
I don’t need the coin. I’m enough without its fickle powers. I have to be. And if not, well, there will come an end to my mission one way or another. The closer I get to my target, the less I care what happens to me as long as Tauren gets what’s coming to him by my hand.
That seer had to be wrong.
There’s only one, and only the one will do. A coin will guide you.
Crazy old woman.
I can’t believe I fell for that mash. A coin that calls to me, only to reject me when it’s in my hands?
There’s no time for that nonsense.
Next to me, Cricket snores softly. He has rolled over in his sleep, facing me now, hair hiding his eyes, one arm flung over my chest. He’s beautiful.
Gently I wrap my fingers around his wrist, lift his arm, and place it on the blanket between us. His skin is so soft. He wouldn’t like me calling him delicate, but that’s what he is. Young, rash, headstrong, and delicate.
Not innocent, I know that much, though he looks it.
I let myself stare for a few long moments. My little thief, so sweet in sleep. So feisty when awake. So desperate to belong somewhere or to someone he’d align himself with the worst of monsters.
With me.
Silently, carefully, I sneak out of the bed. One leg, then the other, ever so slowly so as not to jostle the mattress. Holding my breath, I stand up and step away.
So far, so good. Not even a snuffle from the sleeping lovely.
I went to bed fully clothed, so there’s no need to dress. All my things are already stored in my pocket dimension. My hidey-hole, as Cricket calls it.
Ah, Cricket.
He’s going to be so mad when he discovers I’m gone, especially after he told me not to leave. I hate doing this to him, creeping off in the middle of the night like a one-night stand—he means so much more to me than that—but it can’t be avoided. He wants to help me with my mission, but that’s the last thing I need.
I must keep him out of this at all costs.
I must keep him safe.
And for that, I must leave him.
