Page 70 of A City of Flames

“He had it coming.” There is no lie in that.

He chuckles, tapping his dirt-filled fingers along the surface of the table. “I’ve never seen you here. What is your name?”

“Misty,” I answer without missing a beat, and he frowns. “My mother loved out of the ordinary names.” If he’s about to reply, I do not let him as I graze my fingers over his wrist, and my lashes flutter up at him. “What’s yours?”

His eyes shoot down to my hand, and then he gives me a crooked grin. He sees that as a sign I’m interested. My veins race with excitement and adventure. Flirting is something I’m never good at.

Tarron starts to ask me more questions about where I am from, if I would like a drink, and then talks about how proud he is of this tavern. I attempt to look interested, my hand on his, laughing at the slightest joke he makes and then biting my tongue when he mentions women shouldn’t be venators.

After a while, I’m tired of this not going anywhere. I lean over the table, and my eyes skate over to Darius’s eyes on me, his jaw tense as I whisper in Tarron’s ear, “Shall we get out of here?”

Tarron’s smile grows hideous and vile. His response is to rise from his chair, gesturing for me to follow him.

As Tarron pushes open a backdoor, Darius observes us and watches as I enter before Tarron.

* * *

Darius is right. As soon as we enter through a backdoor into a gloomy hallway full of gruff men, Tarron leads me into another room at the end.

I glance at the candles scattered along the desk, bookshelves encrusted into the stone walls, and a decanter. There is a bed to the left, large enough to fit five kings, if possible, and as my gaze searches for the crystal, I don’t see it. Gold dragon crested coins spill from a pouch on the desk before Tarron blocks my view with a silver chalice in his hand.

He hands it to me, and I smile. “Is this where you live?” I ask, trying to buy time.

His brittle laugh makes my skin crawl. “Yes,” he says as if I should be impressed.

I nod slowly but don’t drink the wine from my chalice. Awkward and tense silence rises in the air as Tarron nears me, his green eyes looking at me like I am his dinner. I dodge him, moving out of the way as his hand comes to my waist. “Why don’t you show me around?”

He looks startled, letting out a short chuckle. “Or I could show you something else if you want.”

Disgust swirls in my gut. No, thank you.

I place the chalice down on his desk and tip my head to the side as I stroll toward him. Step by step, I try to be as swift and seductive. “How about—” My fingers tiptoe up to his arm, “—you close your eyes, and I surprise you instead?”

His eyes glaze over with lust, turning wild as I take his chalice and down the wine inside it. I unlace the top part of my corset, then pause and raise my brow for him to close his eyes.

He listens in no less than a second, and I smile, lifting the chalice as I strike him in the head with it. The bed dips and creaks as he thumps down onto it.

Thank Solaris for that.

I look around cautiously and drop the chalice as I run over to his desk, searching through drawers. Coins rattle against the wood before I switch to the bookshelves, wondering if they’re hidden somewhere past the books.

Trying to reach the top shelf, I step back and slam straight into the chest of someone.

I spin to face Tarron, wide awake.

My eyes jump from the empty bed to him. His expression is cold, furious.

“That was quite some surprise.” He rubs the side of his head. “Misty, if that is even your real name.”

I should have hit him harder.

“What are you, a thief?” He has me backed against the bookshelf. I eye the door and amuse myself with the idea of hitting him in the crotch. But he grabs me by the elbow and wraps his other hand tight around my waist. It blinds me with pain as his arm digs into my skin. “You want to know what I do to thieves like you?”

Air from my lungs cuts off, and a low gasping sound emits from my throat before his mouth is on mine. His tongue is like a lizard, slobbering all over me as I try to press my lips tight together and grimace.

The need to get away flares, and I press my hands against him, fighting off the taste of alcohol on his lips.

He quickly jerks away with a grunt, and I slide my dagger out from my sheath, raising it in front of me to warn him not to come any nearer.

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