Page 146 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Psh!” Howlite rapped Pete on the shoulder with undue force. The slaver’s bicep flexed merely to impress me. I struggled not to roll my eyes. “You’d be lucky if you made it so far, as deep in your cups as you get, McKenna.” Casting a sideways leer my way, he held a “secretive” hand to his mouth. “Prone to soggy bone, this one. I’ve heard tell most humans are.” He squeezed Pete’s shoulder in a way I guessed was meant to be jocular but looked more like he’d started a game of mercy.
From the terse twitch of Pete’s mouth, I didn’t figure he’d ever concede such a game. Nor did I believe he’d ever suffered soggy bone.
But the vixen wouldn’t take that chance and potentially ruin her night, would she?
I clicked my tongue, slipping from Pete’s touch. “Pity to hear that.”
Pete’s mouth twisted as I glimmered up at Howlite. “What about you?” I forced myself to ogle him. “Are you better at holding your liquor?”
Puffing like a rooster, Howlite became so smug it was unattractive. “Aye, lady fair. Spirits only ever stiffenthisfeyr’s bones.”
I covered my mouth before I spit out my last sip of ale. I offered Howlite my hand. “Then it’s so nice to meet you, Howlite. My name’s Rose.”
His lips on my knuckles—uck! It was like being kissed by a slug.
“Care to join me, Rose?” Howlite asked. “You’d get to watch me slay this worthless human at bachram.”
Howlite’s insults drew my futile matchmaker’s disappointment, so I decided against abandoning my own personality altogether. Maggie would become suspicious. Plus, the vixen Pete had met at the Thorny Rose Tavern had still been me. So, I remarked, “That was kind of rude.”
Both males paused, Howlite blinking, Pete’s mouth hitching.
I set down my mug. “Just because he’s human doesn’t mean he’s worthless.” I gestured at Pete. “I’ve met many fine humans before.”
“Aye, you might have,” Howlite agreed, though his skepticism was tangible. “But not this one, lady. This one’s aharbinger.”
The way he’d hissedharbinger,like someone paid to hump livestock had more honor, cued me to gasp. Nearby eavesdroppers muttered their disgust, then skittered away from Pete, the social leper. Even Maggie looked ashamed—maybe because she hadn’t warned me I might’ve invited a slave to shadow to bed.
“McKenna’s a leashed bitch, lady fair,” Howlite continued, superior as all hell. “The lowest of the low, to be mounted at his master’s pleasure.”
Goddess, I didn’t know how Pete remained so calm at Howlite’s slander because I wanted to cut the jackwagon’s tongue out of his mouth and shove it up his ass. Then maybe he’d get a taste of his own bullshit.
Stay the course, Pete’s unwavering gaze cautioned me, though he looked carefully sullen.
Rob the fucker blind!I added with a hearty swallow of my ale.
Clearing my throat, I rose from my toadstool and proffered Howlite my arm. “Then I’d just love to watch you put this scumbag in his place.”
Snickering, Howlite hooked my arm and led me to his place at the card table. Where he sat me down on his knee like a cat to pet, my skirt shifting to bare my leg up to my damn hip. I swallowed the urge to glare at the others already seated at the bachram table, feyrs who snickered about me—Howlite’s new toy.
Several moments passed as tournament players gathered. I spent all of them wanting to escape back to camp until a friendly presence appeared beside me with another mug of ale.
“Oh.” I gulped at Maggie, unsure how to reject the drink. I wasn’t touching anything Howlite ordered for me if he was known for drugging beyns. “How nice of you,” I praised my living seat, fingering his chest patch. “But I can’t accept charity from a royal official. What would your superiors say?”
Howlite’s brows rose.
“The ale’s not from him, lady,” Maggie corrected me, pressing the sweating mug into my hand. She gestured across the table at Pete, who was just taking a toadstool, arms full of poker chips. Apparently, Rye and Maggie imported human chips the way they imported Bicycle card decks. All from the black-market, I assumed. “This here’sPete’streat.”
“Oh, well—” I shrugged. “Guess it can’t be considered charity if it comes from someone so beneath me.”
A cunning glint in her eye, Maggie spun away to complete her chores.
Pete gestured toward me while organizing his chips. “Thought you could use another draught, darlin’, if you’ll be whiffing Howlite’s stink all evening.”
Though anyone with a suitable fae nose could tell Howlite smelled of nothing worse than fresh cut grass, the other feyrs at the table chortled. Howlite laughed like grating metal, his canines more resembling blades.
The tournament, beginning shortly thereafter, progressed hastily. Perched as I was, I struggled to see Howlite’s hands. And after five unproductive rounds, Pete hadn’t won a single pot, and his irritation radiated like gamma waves. Not irritation at me, I guessed, but at the jerkwad foiling our whole plan to cheat him. Well, that couldn’t continue.
Vixens wouldn’t sit where they didn’t want to.
