Page 154 of The Mercy of Dawn

Cyril sat back on his thighs, her cheeks stained red and eyes glassy, and fixed him with a wholly disappointed stare. “But downstairs… I wanted to go and…”

The woman had the audacity to pout.

“Maybe another time, when your uncle also isn’t downstairs?”

Her eyes flared.

“Did you forget about that?”

“I… Maybe.” She clambered out of his lap with the sort of urgency that he found humorous. That bit of information had absolutely vacated her mind.

Not that her mind had a fighting chance of holding onto much of importance, anyway. And honestly, that was probably for the best. Seeing as her firsthand experiences with carnal pleasures amounted to, well…nothing, a front-row seat to a public foursome might have been throwing her far into the rapids.

Cyril reached for his hand, clear concern contending with the euphoric haze that painted her face for the last couple of hours.

“Mika, let’s go. If Dion sees me…fuck. He’ll kill me. And gods, you too, for bringing me here.”

She swore again, fucking colorfully at that, and her eyes darted to the balcony.

“Do you think he…? Fuck. What if he already—”

Mikael stood and cupped Cyril’s face in his hands, shaking his head. “He hasn’t seen you, Cyr, and he won’t see you, either. The balconies are glamored for privacy, and we’ll just go out the back.”

She stilled, and he could see her spiraling thoughts come to their screeching stop. The crease between her brow softened, and she smiled lazily as she said, “Right.”

One crisis avoided.

Now he just needed to get her home in one piece.

Mikael took one final swig from the wine bottle—he’d need it, he was sure—before he steered Cyril towards the suite’s door.

Navigating the hall? Arguably one of the more challenging parts of their night.

Cyril was unsteady at best and clutched at his hand like it was the only thing tethering her to the damn earth.

Nearly every sight and sound they encountered in the walkway made her stop and stare, and Mikael had to pull her along every damn time. She wore one hells of a sheepish smile, but he just focused on steering her this way and that to avoid the staff and patrons moving to and from the other suites.

She climbed the stairs tucked discreetly at the end of the hall with ease, and for that, Mikael was grateful. Playing babysitter was a wholly different experience when he wasn’t just keeping an eye on another guard with a half-vested interest.

And that wasn’t even considering the complete and utter hells he’d end up in if a single damn thing happened to Cyril under his watch. He was more scared of his mother than he was of Dion, truthfully.

“G’nite lovebirds. Keep each other warm, yeah?”

From half a flight of stairs up from where they were, a boulder of a man stood up from a chair tucked by the back doors.

Keep warm? They weren’t even a couple of weeks out from the Summer Solstice. Reykr was about as far from cold as it would ever be.

The one eye the man still had picked upon Mikael’s confusion and he jerked his head towards the door. “Started pissin’ rain an hour ‘go.”

Fucking hells.

Now that the rumble and buzz of the club had faded back into the depths of the stairwell, he could hear it pelting away on the street beyond the door.

Cyril, bless her strange and loaded little heart, just looked up at him and grinned, saying, “I like the rain.”

“Ah, ‘am sure you do, sweetheart. Get on then, night’s callin’ ya.” The man chuckled and shook his head.

The metal door squealed as he nudged it open.