Page 96 of Samhain Savior
Chapter forty-four
Delilah
The woman’s voice rang out, her angry question cutting through the quiet like a knife. I turned, finding her glowering down at us from the balcony, looking like sin incarnate.
She was tall and lean, her body curving in all the right places. She wore a pair of black pants, tight across her butt but wide and flowing down her legs. Her hair was cut short, nearly shaved on the sides with edgy, messy waves on top. Her lips were painted blood red, which matched the daring lace blouse she wore, the white bra underneath standing out prominently against her dark skin.
She was stunning and intimidating, and I really wanted to be her when I grew up.
“Duchess Murmur,” Archer said, dipping his head in a show of respect—but only marginally. “We meant no offense.”
“Don’t gimmie that shit, Archer,” she tossed back, stomping down the stairs in a pair of combat boots that looked both comfortable and functional. Her words carried a slight accent, as if she wasn’t actuallyfromNew Orleans, but had lived in the area long enough to have picked up some of the lyrical creole lilt that the city was famous for. “You know I don’t bow down.”
The words carried a clear threat, one that I knew rubbed Archer the wrong way because his irritation flowed through the bond, even if his face remained completely expressionless.
“Now, what is the meaning of all this? You know you can’t just show up here unannounced. Especially with all the shit that’s been going on in your neck of the woods.” She eyed him as she stepped off the final stair, one elegant eyebrow arched in accusation. “Two Guardians, Archer? Really?”
“I assure you, I have the situation well in hand.”
Vine had the audacity to snort, earning him a swift elbow to the ribs from Corson.
“So well in hand you have to show up in my town, dragging a wanted witch behind you? I am not looking for trouble, Archer. Things have just settled down around here. The last thing I need is a horde of fucking bounty hunters descending on my streets, looking for your witch.”
“Mymate,” Archer growled, the words rolling through me like thunder.
He might as well have dropped a bomb for the effect it had on our little group. Vine gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like a scandalized southern belle. Corson scowled in our direction, looking more than a little offended at the fact that he’d not been informed.
Mal, however, seemed pleased, his lips tipped up in the slightest of smiles, as he met my gaze and nodded, his head tilting to the side in a very raven-like expression I was growing fond of seeing on him.
Murmur, for her part, didn’t seem surprised, only contemplative, her gaze sharpening from defensive to curious as she looked at me with new interest.
“Mate?” she asked, pursing her lips. “You’re certain? With a witch?”
“I’m certain,” Archer replied, his pride washing through me, making me stand taller. “And that is all I’ll say about it.” His tone left no room for argument. “Now, we are here to request permission to speak with one of your citizens. He has information about a missing relic, and once I have that information, we’ll be gone.” Archer paused, his jaw and fists clenching tight as though he was struggling to speak, and his next word told me exactly why. “Please, Duchess.”
“That was hard for you, wasn’t it?” she said, a sly smile on her beautiful face. “Asking for something instead of just taking it.” Her gaze flicked to me, taking in the bite mark that was just visible at the scooped neckline of my dress—my last dress, to be exact. “I wonder if that was the case for your sweet little mate here. Did you ask, Archer? Or did you just take?”
Her question made me uncomfortable, the dubiousness of the situation we’d been in in the Void explaining but not necessarily excusing the way we had ended up mated. Archer had asked, and I’d agreed, but I hadn’t been at all clear as to what I was actually agreeingto. And from the way doubt and a hint of shame flowed through the bond, he knew it.
Without thinking, I reached for him, my hand curling in his, feeling the tension in his fingers relax the moment we touched. For the first time since we’d entered the club, Archer swung his gaze to me, his face softening just a fraction when he glanced down at our joined hands.
Everything within me wanted to reassure him, to protect his pride and his feelings about what had happened between us, but I wasn’t there yet.
And I didn’t know if I ever would be.
Murmur let out a thoughtful hum, tapping one sharp-tipped fingernail against her crimson lips as she took us in.
“Interesting. Just when I thought life couldn’t surprise me anymore.”
With that, she moved, heading toward the bar in the far corner where she began pouring various liquids into a squat glass, giving me time to look around the building for the first time.
The interior was all dark stained wood and low tables that surrounded the dance floor. There was a stage at the back of the room which was set with stools and microphones, but was empty of instruments at the moment. Above, there were two stories with visible balconies, giving people the opportunity to look down from them and watch the band on the stage. Antique looking light fixtures and swaths of red velvet draperies finished the look, giving it a darkly sexy appearance that probably drew packed crowds of tourists every night.
“I’d offer you a drink,” Murmur said as she raised her own glass to her lips and took a sip. “But I just don’t fucking want to.” Coming out from behind the bar, she headed to one of the low tables, hips swaying seductively with every step. Archer, still holding my hand, led me to the table, seating me as far from Murmur as possiblebefore taking the seat beside me. Vine and Corson flanked him, and Mal held his spot by the door. I was always so impressed at the way they moved as a unit, their unspoken understanding of the needs of the group just second nature to them.
I also wondered where I fit into that dynamic now, but pushed that thought away. I had no business thinking about the future when my present was such a disaster.
“So, you need to speak to one of my citizens, do you? I suppose you think I’ll just hand him over because you asked oh, so nicely?” Her sarcasm was plain as she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and sipped her drink. It was very strong, the smell of alcohol and sulfur reaching me where I sat, and I was glad she hadn’t offered me one; I’d probably have passed out just breathing in the fumes.
