Page 51 of These Vile Hearts

A coy smile curves my lips. “An investment, huh?”

He reaches out a hand, stroking two fingers down my arm. “I have a thing for mortal women,” he murmurs.

My head tilts along with my false grin. I feel like a million insects are crawling over my skin. “Lucky you.”

His bottom lip sucks in, teeth biting down as he looks me over like a wolf about to devour his kill. I think I may vomit. But no, there isn’t time for that.

“Fern, would you mind keeping an eye on the books? Just for a bit? I’m going to join this dashing man in a room.”

Fern gives a startled cough, bewilderment coloring her light green cheeks several shades darker. “Er— Of course…”

Snatching up the key to the last empty suite on the first floor, I lead Archer through the black-feathered curtain into the parlor.

The door to the suite clicks closed behind Archer, and I stroll casually to the red silk bed, sinking onto it and reclining back. I move to unhook the front of my bodice, just a little. “So, I do have a few ground rules—”

“Could we keep our clothes on, actually?” he interrupts.

My hands still. “Oh. Sure?”

Without his friends around, Archer actually looks rather small. “I would just prefer to lie down a while.” He kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed. Plopping heavily down, the dryad spreads outlike a starfish, his head sinking into the feathered pillows. “My feet are positivelyaching.”

“Would you like me to…rub them?”

His face brightens as though I’ve just offered to strip for him. Though I suppose I technically did offer that, and he clearly refused. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or offended.

He closes his eyes. “That would be divine.”

As far as feet go, his aren’t that repulsive. They may even be softer than mine. If I didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to, I’d ask about his pedicure routine.

“Must be so tiring,” I say in a soothing voice, moving my thumb in slow circles along the arch of his foot, “working for the Redwood King.”

“It can be,” he admits sleepily. “My job can be.”

“But you aren’t a guard, are you?”

Archer smiles. “How can you tell?”

I stroke a hand up his calf, eliciting a shiver. “You weren’t wearing armor.”

“I am not a guard. You’re right. The king does not allow them many breaks.”

Clearly.Though I’ve only ever seen him accompanied by the one.

“What are you, then?”

His smile vanishes like a candle blown out. “Mostly, I am a delivery person. Of sorts.”

“What do you deliver? Goods from the kingdom?”

“No, that is not the sort of delivery I make.” A deep flush fills his cheeks, running down his neck.

My voice remains low and calm, like I’m trying to coax an animal into a cage. “What sort of things do you deliver, if not goods?”

A crease forms between his brows, and the corners of his lips turn down. “I’m not supposed to…” Distress darkens his voice. “He has ears everywhere.”

“Who does?”

“The king.”