Page 148 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Pete’s glower only intensified at the loss. His irises bled ink.
Whistling, the Danann to my right pushed back from the table. “Heated match, lads. Have a fruitful morrow.”
Shit!I stared at the chips Howlite collected between glugs of ale.That’s the end of the tournament.We’ve lost everything!
Everything!
Howlite breathed in my ear that he’d be back, pinching my hip before sauntering away to cash in his chips. I glared at Pete, wanting to shake him until his balls fell off.
Until I saw the ghosts in his eyes—the phantoms of shame from hundreds of years of abuse and assault that even Rye and Maggie’s potent ale couldn’t drown. And I made my own foolhardy decision, drunk as I was.
Howlite had humiliated and degraded Pete. And though I couldn’t rightly call the harbinger a friend, I did care enough about him to want revenge. So, I was going to get our seeds back. And all the seeds the slaver currently had to his name.
Darting off from the game table, I shot Pete a pointed stare, which he merely blinked at. Then, I strutted over to Howlite, who chugged yet another mugful of ale, and grabbed a honking handful of his ass.
Startled, he gawped at me.
“I’m eager to see how liquor stiffens your bones,” I purred, batting my lashes. “Like you said.”
A trickle of ale meandered down Howlite’s chin. For a moment, I feared he might do a victory dance. Instead, he slammed his frothy mug down on the bar with such force he made Rye and Maggie jump as they cleaned their quieting establishment.
“I’m eager to show you,” he damn near belched, then grabbed my elbow and rushed me toward the wisteria laden staircase, right past Pete.
With one last glance at my accomplice, who’d risen from his seat, flushed and disbelieving, I nodded up the stairs—the subtlest hint I could give him—and scurried to the second story, Howlite panting against my neck.
Shadow swallowed us as Howlite grabbed me, backed me against an ivied wall, and kissed me like he meant to suck off my face. At least ale had sweetened his mouth. Besides that, the encounter was like eating a bowl of soup with my hands tied behind my back. Sloppy, wet, and my nose was way too involved.
Struggling to breathe, I inched along the hallway, pulling him with me. “Don’t you have a room?” I managed beneath his seeking mouth.
“Of course. I always sleep in luxury.”
While his slaves slept chained in cages. Or worse.
“Which door is it?”
He grabbed a handful of my skirt, probably expecting to feel a butt beneath it. Little did he know—
Howlite groaned deep in his throat as he pressed into me. “Doubt I can make it there. I must have you now.”
I yelped at the intrusive hardness against my stomach and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Do I look like a strumpet to you? Have you mistaken me for the kind of beyn who has sex in dark hallways?”
Howlite blinked, somewhat returning to his senses. And his manners. “Oh, no. No, that I haven’t, lady fair.”
“Then please show me to your room—where you can have me.” I croaked the last part, crossing my fingers.
Humming in anticipation, Howlite fiddled in his pockets. For a key, I assumed. “You won’t regret your choice this night, lady fair. And come the morn, I’ll be happy to tell my unworthy rival just how much you enjoyed my attentions. So, he’ll know too how your choice satisfied you.”
Weird.
“Oh, would you please do that for me?” I cackled, my British accent slipping. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear every sordid detail.”
Thankfully, Howlite was too drunk and aroused to intuit my sarcasm. He found his room key and staggered to his door, tugging me, still giggling, behind him.
Watching him try to unlock his door was like watching an infant try to solve a Rubik’s Cube. He just couldn’t seem to get the dang key in the right place.
Which doesn’t bode well for tonight’s exploits.Poor vixen just can’t win, can she?
“Are you sure this is your room?”
