Page 47 of Devil In Boots

“He just appeared one day.” She shrugged. “Like the last guy, he lives in his ivory tower and ignores everything on this side. Too pure fae and rich for the likes of us humans. Or half fae, like Lotti there.” She nodded her head at a woman down the way. “Human Elite are no different. They think of anyone who’s poor or has mixed blood as savages.” She sneered, waving me off. “If you’re not here for a good time, I’m done talking to you.”

As I pulled out one of the notes, she stopped, the desperation in her eyes zeroing in on the cash.

“Then tell me who can.” I waved the bill. “I know you know of a person. You girls are the smartest and most savvy here. You have to be to survive.”

She tipped her head back, a sadness in her eyes, like she forgot what it felt like to be seen.

“There’s a place called the Lantern.” Her eyes darted to the side, making sure no one was in earshot. “It has no sign. It’s…” I got it. It was the underbelly of society. The ones doing illegal, shady shit. “Ask for Dzsinn.”

“Dzsinn?” I folded my arms, knowing it basically meant genie.

She nodded, her attention going back to the money.

“Place to stay?”

She flicked her chin down the street. “There is a pub with rooms above down that street.”

“Thanks.” I handed her both bills. “Get yourself some food and a safe place to sleep tonight.”

I turned, gesturing for my group to follow.

“Umm…” The girl suddenly appeared a tad edgy. “Be careful. I’ve heard things about Dzsinn.”

“Sweetheart, he needs to worry about us.” I winked, strolling off.

What could a genie possibly do against a beast who was a hired assassin and two cutthroat pirates?

Laying my head back in the bathtub, I let my eyes close for a minute, relishing the barely lukewarm water. The boarding house above the pub was bare-bones, with no running water or electricity. The old-school oil lamps we had to carry from our room to the bathroom disguised the peeling paint, mold, and wear the place had. Five years with no maintenance and constant people coming through quickly eroded the building, which had been old to begin with.

It was only a matter of time before someone tipped one of these lamps over and the whole place went up, probably catching the rest of the block on fire. The man and wife who owned this place, just trying to feed their family, would lose everything.

But today wasn’t that day, and soaking the thick crust of dirt off my body after weeks of being on the road felt incredible.

We were lucky to get baths at all, costing extra for us to take up our own buckets from the pub, filled with warm water each time one of us took a bath.

I purposely chose to be last, not wanting to rush, taking a moment to get my shit together. To feel my feet under me again, which had nothing to do with this crazy adventure and everything to do with a cat-shifter down the hall.

I still felt her on my fingers, heard her groaning in my ear, felt the desperation to drive into her, to fuck her hard against the tree. It physically hurt to step away, like it was ripping open my guts. But I had to. Without understanding how, I knew if I crossed that line, I wouldn’t come back from it.

And I hated her for it.

Then she screwed with my head again by trading her father’s dagger instead of my sword for payment. What the fuck was that? I was ready to give mine up, wanting her to have her father’s weapon, something I should’ve given her long ago. I didn’t, either because I was afraid she’d use it on me or I didn’t want to let it go. I wore it every day on purpose; it was my lashing, my punishment, to carry the burden of what happened. To be reminded of sacrifice, to see how love destroyed.

Then shesacrificedit for me. Gave up that last connection to her father. Why? She hated me, blamed me. Why would she make such a stupid decision? One she was going to regret. To penalize me? Make me suffer more?

“Fuck,” I snarled. Irrational anger rocketed down my spine into my cock. My fingers dug against the tub. I struggled against the need to pull myself out of this tub and march to her, demanding why she did such an asinine thing. To reprimand her. To make her cry out. I wanted her to feel the burden I had been carrying, to mark her with my weight.

My lids squeezed, my rational part trying to keep me in check, but it barely held on. For so long, I shoved everything back, even Lexie’s death, living life in my blasé existence, never too fussed about anything.

It was hiding, lying in wait, lingering under the surface until something triggered it. Little did I know that thing would be Katrina Roth.

Gripping my length, I squeezed down until I felt pain, my dick so hard it pulsed under my palm. Every emotion rode on my shoulders: shame, confusion, sadness, fear. It all knotted into pure rage. Pointing at her, wanting to be released on her.

Fuck her for even being on my ship in the first place.

My hand pumped down my shaft, a noise huffing my nose.

Fuck her for the curse she left behind.

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