Page 62 of Hearts of Stone

“Oh, I don’t drink wine,” Jade said.

“Perhaps one of your fruit juices?” I suggested to the barman, feeling a growing sense of alarm. I hadn’t factored in Jade’s preferences in my plan, hadn’t even bothered to ask her. This was my chance to make an impression on my mate and I was failing miserably at it.

“Hmm. I think I may have a vintage that will please you, Mistress. Try this.”

There was an air of challenge in the satyr’s eyes, but not a dangerous one, I was fairly sure. Apart from being as randy as a goat, the bastard was mostly harmless. Jade looked up at me for direction, something I liked so very much, so I nodded. At first, Silenus didn’t want to let go of the glass, seeming to expect her to drink from his hand, but my instincts kicked in. A growl formed in my chest and my fangs were bared before I could think twice. Silenus snorted in amusement and relinquished the glass. Jade took a sip, then made a small sound of pleasure.

“That’s amazing!”

“Best wine in the state; nay, the country,” he said with a shrug. “Not that I’m allowed to participate in the human contests. I nearly had a deal going with one of the major wine distributors and then those pricks from the First Families stepped in.” He smiled when she drained the glass, then handed it back. “You could have all of this at your fingertips, Mistress Jade Barlow.” He shot me a knowing look. “I’d be there the moment you woke up, with a bellini in hand to greet you. I wouldn’t even mind sharing with stone boy here.” His hand slid across the bar. “You could get up to all sorts of naughtiness at night with him, and then I’d be there to…” He licked his lips suggestively. “Get you ready for the day.”

“I didn’t bring my mistress here for you to ogle,” I growled. “Jade, if you want another drink I can take you—”

“That’s an awfully prissy tone to take, especially for a Whiteley gargoyle.” What in all the gods had possessed me to bring Jade here? The satyr straightened up then, looking me up and down. “The orgies that took place in The Eyrie… I attended a few and found myself blushing. They rivalled anything me and my kind have ever been able to stage.”

Gods be damned. Carrick had spun our mate around in the air, dancing with her between fairy lights; and I’d brought her here. I drew in a breath, then another one, before I dared to look down at Jade. What must she think of me? That I’d… That I would…

“I did only my master’s bidding,” I told her in a low urgent tone, “within limits. I made clear I would never do…” I tried to swallow as a stone the size of my fist formed in my throat, “…that with another woman.”

“That?” Silenus imitated my tone and then burst out laughing uproariously, pouring each of us another glass. “By the great Lord Pan himself, you’re untouched.”

I felt my cheeks heat and my throat worked. I wanted nothing more than for this conversation to be over. But as I was trying to think of a way to get us out of there, Jade set her glass down and put her hand on my arm.

“Seneca, are you OK? What’s he talking about?”

This was my chance to tell her, to make clear my sacrifice. I’d had master after master summon me forth, into the writhing nest of bodies, but I’d shaken my head each time. I’d do my duty, ensure my master was safe, bring him wine, food, pills, whatever it was that he wanted, but he, they, could never have the thing I held precious. They could never have me, because I could only give that to one person: my mate. But as I went to tell her, Silenus spoke over me.

“The house you inherited has a dark past,” Silenus told her. “Seen the inside of Z Ward yet?”

“Silenus…” Graven growled, coming closer.

“Z Ward?” Jade said, frowning as she took a sip. “What’s that got to do with anything? It was a prison.”

“It was the site of orgies of pain and pleasure that even my Lord Dionysus would’ve blanched at,” Silenus continued, holding up his glass in a wry salute. “Overseen by a madman who used those poor sods as fodder for all of his fantasies.

“That’s enough,” I said, which shifted the satyr’s focus to me.

“And, somehow, this one ended up untouched.” Those yellow eyes glittered, not so much with malice, but mischief. That was the nature of satyrs, stampeding in where angels feared to tread, and I’d forgotten that when I brought Jade to his tent. His lips twitched and I just knew I was going to hate what he had to say.

“Enough, Silenus—” I said sharply.

“Someone’s been saving himself for his fated mate.”

I felt rather than saw Jade’s focus shift back to me. I felt as if her eyes were burning into the side of my face, but while I was many things, I was no coward. I turned to face her, expecting to see amusement or surprise or even horror there, but instead I was greeted by something quite different. Her eyes were shining as her lips parted, and she was about to say something when that damn satyr interrupted again.

“Two things a satyr knows well,” he continued, undeterred. “Sex and wine. You should bring me in: I could work as an intimacy coach, help guide you through the process.” Silenus winked at me. “I’ll make sure you get it in the right hole.”

“I said enough!”

My hand shot out and grabbed the satyr around the throat, not tight enough to cut off his breath, but enough to stop his damn noise. His fingers scrabbled at my claws, trying to get meto let him go, but I did so only in my own time, and watched him fall back onto his stool in a messy slump that was very satisfying.

“We need to get you back home, Mistress,” I said stiffly, scooping Jade up into my arms, stalking from the tent and taking flight, not even bothering to see if my stone brothers followed. They would, I knew that. I tried very hard not to dwell on the way she felt in my arms, her warmth, her softness. I made myself focus on the journey ahead, following the lines of the city, now helpfully lit up with streetlights, my wings slicing through the air to take us home.

“Seneca—” Jade said.

“We’re nearly home, Mistress,” I said, forcing myself to smile, but I couldn’t look down, I just couldn’t. I was so damn hard just from holding her in my arms, it felt like my pearls were rubbing me raw with every wing stroke.

“Seneca, look at me.”

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