Page 48 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

"Good." I smile approvingly. "Now let's eat."

She gulps, looking nervous.

"Ay, at the tavern. We'll save my meal for later." I wink.

Morte and I stride solemnly down the winding path, surrounded by a dense forest that looms taller with each step. She gazes up at the sky, her face awash in wonder at the lofty spires that penetrate the clouds, and the menacing gargoyles that guard the treetops and shield these ancient woods from intruders.

My grip tightens on her shoulder as a monstrous beast lumbers across our path. I sharply turn us away so it can't spot us, heart pounding in my chest and an icy chill running up my spine. Night stalker. I hate those little fuckers.

My hands grip hers as I drag her through the winding passageway, lit only by a single torch. We descend a steep staircase, worn into the rocky wall, and arrive at a seedy tavern nestled in the nook of an old village. Patrons cease their conversations and watch us cautiously as we stride forward, no delicate steps but powerful strides, until I spot an empty table near the back. Their hostile glares follow Morte. No doubt they've heard of the phoenix with bright red hair.

A loud, boisterous laugh explodes from the bar as Victoria de Feu saunters over. Her eyes, as black and deep as the far side of the moons, are locked on Morte.

"My, my," she purrs, fluttering her eyelashes. "Who do we have here?"

She's an incubus fae from the realm of Bedlam, and she's as rotten as they come. Her presence is like a menacing cloud, cloaked in black velvet and bedazzled with glittering jewels. She reeks of enchanted glamour that clouds the senses, luring unsuspecting victims with her lust magic. Thank the gods I'm immune to her charm, and to others like her.

"Morte, this is Vic," I grumble. "She's not your friend."

Victoria laughs, not offended in the least.

"No," she agrees. "But I can be very accommodating." Her eyes rake over Morte's body, and I have to suppress a growl. "What can I get you, sweetheart?"

Morte's eyes heat, but she turns to me. "What are we having?"

"Get her the nectar wine and chargrilled bat wings smothered in a sticky black sauce with a side of hellbeast hearts. I'll have the same."

Victoria turns to Morte, whose eyes glaze and she leans in closer. "Why don't you come pay for this now, sugar, and I'll return you to your little friend after?" She trails a nail down the side of Morte's face, and I snatch her arm away before she can do more.

A whimper escapes Morte's lips, no doubt the lust rolling off Vic in waves. "I'm paying," I snap, and I slam a bag of coins into her hand. "Now fuck off."

Victoria hesitates and looks back over her shoulder with a smirk, her eyes burning with a dark power. The air around her is thick like tar, smothering all in its presence with a heavy veil of her sorcery, yet I remain untouched by its hold. A rancid stench of bitterness lingers on my tongue, like an indelible mark of her spell.

I turn to Morte, taking her hands in mine. "Are you okay? She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Morte shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. "She smells good. Who is that?" She tries to get a better look.

"She's an incubus fae," I snarl, my lips curling back in revulsion.

"Oh, no." Her eyes widen, and fear and panic spread across her face. "The lust. I'm drowning in it." She gasps, her body trembling as she fights against her own desires.

"Best way is to expel it," I purr, a sly smirk on my lips. "But seeing how we're in the middle of a crowded tavern, you'll just have to wait. Unless," I lower my voice, leaning close enough that my breath tickles the side of her ear, "you want me to take you out back."

Morte's eyes go hooded and her lips part, her tongue brushing against her lips. She leans against me like a hellcat in heat before she manages to pull away.

Someone bumps into me from behind and I spin around with a snarl.Emeric. I launch to my feet, my arms wrapping tightly around him in a crushing hug. His chest rumbles with laughter before he slides into the chair across from Morte and me. His black hair falls in disarray and his dark skin glistens with sweat. His eyes sparkle with an icy brilliance; when his gaze falls onto Morte, an unmistakable craving flashes across his face. He smirks, his sharp fangs glimmering in the light.

"Who's the beauty?" His eyes dance with interest.

"Morte." I gesture to my friend. "Meet Emeric. He's a pain in my ass, but one of the only people you can trust around here."

I give him a pointed look.

"Nice to meet you." Emeric smirks and offers his hand.

Morte takes it gingerly and glances over at me with a nervous smile. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Emeric raises a brow. "What are you doing running around with a guy like him?"

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