In The Dark | CHAPTER TWO

“Oof!” I cry out, my mask sliding across my face.

Was that a brick fucking wall? The male suddenly grips my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length as we face each other. Only now I’m annoyed, because why didn’t he see me?

“I’m sorry,” I grunt. “I didn’t see you, but surely you saw me standing here.”

I fix my mask and look up, finding that he’s very tall. With a large step back, I attempt to view the stealthy guest—his features mostly hidden by a hood reaching past his forehead. Go figure.

I mentally kick myself for not knowing that someone was behind me—almost like he appeared from nowhere—and quickly scan the corridor only to find us completely alone. My fingers twitch, itching to grab the missing daggers that are typically secured to my waist as I size him up. My teeth grind.

That’s the only rule I hate.

“And who are you?” His voice comes out low and resonant as he glares down at me from behind his dark red mask.

“No names, remember?” I flash him an annoyed smile, reminding him of one of the rules, and dust off my tunic.

“Right, I almost forgot,” he says, his lips tipping up as he glances past me, nodding in Bess’s direction. “Are you enjoying the view?”

Heat sears my face when I glance behind me, seeing Bess. Gods. “Oh, no, it’s not what it—”

“You were watching, weren’t you?”

My eyes narrow. “I was seeing if my friend was… I wasn’t…” Good gods, why am I flustered? I take a deep breath, composing myself. “I don’t think it’s your place to ask me what I was or wasn’t doing. Who are you anyway, or are you just sneaking around making others feel uncomfortable? Are you with anyone?”

I crane my neck to peer around him, the corridor still shadowed and empty, before flicking my eyes back. Although dark, I can make out some of his features. The mask conceals from his brows to the bottom of his nose, which I see is pointed from our height difference—he’s perhaps six foot three.

His hood remains up, but shadows dance across his face from the lanterns hanging off the walls, accentuating his jawline. Something shiny sits across his top lip—a scar, maybe—and he’s noticeably attractive regardless of what I can’t fully see.

But I don’t recognize him. No. I would have remembered his voice if we had crossed paths before.

“Did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He chuckles quietly. “I’m not here with anyone. I do have a meeting, though.” He nods to one of the private rooms nearby, but the way his eyes meet mine leaves me to believe he’s rethinking his own plans. “Are you waiting on the male?”

My eyes dart past to the empty wall behind him as a small grin pulls at my mouth. “I was waiting for the female.”

Then an odd wave of familiarity skitters across my skin when the faint earthy scent of him drifts by. I can’t quite place why when he—very noticeably—scans me with his eyes.

“You’re waiting on the female?” he asks.

“Females know how to please better.” Nothing could convince me that males are better lovers when females know exactly what you need.

His eyes track the way I cross my arms, staring at me in a way that makes me feel like he can see me without my mask. My neck flushes, and I find myself suddenly unsure of my movements, which is unlike me.

His mouth slowly rises into a cocky smirk. “Is that so? Well, if you’re going in there with her, I want to watch.”

Words suddenly fail me, my cheeks flushing. No one’s ever wanted to watch before. His words are arrogant—even a little ridiculous—but the way he says them has my core heating and my head tilting to the side. A sudden curiosity blooms in my chest, and it takes me a few breaths to gather my thoughts before I offer him a slow, curious grin.

“You’re bold,” I say.

He only chuckles, casually placing his hands in his pockets. “Maybe a little. You must not have much experience if you think females are the only ones capable of giving adequate pleasure,” he says with a lazy grin, but then it falls, a seriousness coating his tone for a breath. “Would you like for me to change your mind? I’d love to show you what real pleasure is like.” He leans down, whispering inches from me, “We are in a brothel.”

Oh, he is bold. And very cocky, it seems. Yet my eyes narrow as I step back again, giving him another casual once-over.

“Maybe some other time,” I say, his eyes flicking to my lips. My breath hitches, and I’m suddenly unable to stop my tongue from grazing my bottom lip. Like I can’t help myself.

A lingering silence hangs between us, my pulse skyrocketing as his intense stare meets mine. My eyes dart across the sharp lines of his mask, trying to decide if he’s toying with me or if he actually wants to follow through with that promise.

A promise that’s suddenly enticing to me the longer I stand here. He has an enthralling, commanding energy, and I find myself wondering what a male like him is doing at the Painted Bird.

Lips parting, I eye the faint scar rising on the right side of his lip, realizing that he must feel the charged space between us too. His chest heaves. His mouth hovers over mine, inches from me.

But why do I suddenly want to brush my lips across his? What an odd, unfamiliar feeling…

My fingers twitch as the wild thoughts whirl in my head, and I suddenly find myself wanting to touch him. Without a second thought, I reach up to graze his scar with my fingers, closing the distance.

I suck in a sharp breath, my stomach dipping when his hand shoots out with a low growl, catching mine before I can graze my fingers along the hard lines of his face.

With a small tug, I attempt to pull back, but our hands remain frozen in the air, our eyes locking with challenge.

Is he angry or curious? It’s hard to tell with these damn masks, but my brow arches at his refusal to let me go. Without warning, he backs me against a wall, bracing a hand beside my face with a low, heated hum.

My breath catches in my throat when my hand goes cold—icy, almost—forcing my gaze to his chest. Then my brows pinch, my eyes landing on what look to be shadows skimming my—

“And you said I was bold,” he mumbles, forcing my gaze back up. “I really want to see where this goes, but I’m late for my meeting. What are you doing tomorrow night? I’m in town for a few days.”

He wants to meet tomorrow? A low chuckle escapes me as I study him, my eyes raking over his masked face. I’m suddenly unsure about this exchange. Not only do I not linger after visiting the brothel, but relationships outside of the brotherhood are strictly forbidden. We aren’t even allowed sexual relationships within the brotherhood. King Elion doesn’t like distractions—anything that pulls our focus away from his missions—so if we have needs, the brothel is where we go. But it’s clear that this male doesn’t work here, as he’s also wearing a mask.

“I have… things to do,” I quip.

“Things… like what?”

“Not you,” I reply sarcastically, adding emphasis to the you part, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “There’s no need to come back for someone’s sloppy seconds. I’m sure you could find someone else to satisfy you tomorrow, so why don’t you do that instead?”

“I know I could, but I don’t want to. And I can assure you, nothing I give is ever sloppy.” His gaze lands on my lips. “What can I say? I’m… curious.”

I chuckle. “What could you be curious about, exactly? You’ve spoken to me for what… a few minutes? I’m not a courtesan.”

“I know you’re not a courtesan. But I am curious to know what your mouth tastes like… and that’s not the only reason.” He pulls back to look at me, his voice dipping low. “You look like you like it rough.”

A low heat suddenly travels down my body, settling at the apex of my thighs, and I’m forced to swallow the breath caught in my throat at how right that assumption is. I do like that, but how did he read me so well?

“I’d prefer you on your knees with your head between my legs.” I grin, throwing him a teasing wink. “I won’t be here tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to think about me later.”

He exhales, the sound amusing as he assesses me, as if figuring out a way to change my mind. Then his attention shifts to the wall behind me. His head tilts, eyes narrowing almost like he’s listening to something and causing a whirl of unease to curl my stomach. With a quick glance around, I know we’re the only ones in this hall when his gaze lands on mine again.

“What if I said please? Are you going to make me beg for it?” he asks, almost breathlessly.

“You don’t look like the begging type.”

“I’m not.” He throws me a lazy half grin, so close to me that I catch the faint oakmoss that lingers on his skin. Then my eyes narrow as I actually begin to think about the request.

If he’s only in town for a few days, perhaps I wouldn’t have to see him all the time, meaning I wouldn’t be breaking any rules within the brotherhood. He also looks as if he has connections in the realm—he could help me discreetly search for my parents.

Another silent minute passes before I give him a small smirk, my eyes suddenly lingering on his lips.

“Fine. I’d hate to see you on your knees, begging. Tomorrow night, then,” I say.

A blur of someone walks past, but I don’t take my eyes off the mysterious male, searching his face. Then a throat clears in the doorway—Bess.

I glance to my left, meeting her gaze. She studies me with a raised brow, brown hair spilling over her shoulders, wearing loose linen clothes. A smirk slowly lines her mouth, and I realize that the male she was with was the one who walked by.

“Bess, hi!” I exclaim. The male in front of me steps away, leaving me feeling alone and cold against the wall.

“Tomorrow.” He nods to me, smirking as he turns away, then disappears into the private room across from us.

I shoot a quick glance at Bess with a small grin, brows raised as we exchange similar looks.

“Who was that?” she whispers with a wide grin, as if she wants to taste him as much as I do. “I’ve never seen him before, and he was fully dressed. I don’t think he works here.” It’s not uncommon for guests to find pleasure with each other, but it’s usually the courtesans willingly offering the service.

“That is a good question…” I mumble.

“Oh, join me, please. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I need all the details of what that male did that has you looking like… that.” She points to my face, leaving me to chuckle after her.

I stride through the curtains and flop down, sinking into the lush pillows that rest on the large circular bed settled in the center. She secures her curtain with a hard flick, then hands me a glass of wine, a grin on her face.

“How was your trip to Nymara? Did you find anything?” she asks, her green eyes holding mine as she sits on my left, and I prop an elbow.

I shake my head, sipping. “Not yet, but I feel like I’m getting close. Turns out, not many know much about who my parents could be. Either one could have been human, but there’s really no way to know which one—or if my name is actually my own.”

Since I came from the orphanage, it’s impossible to know if my name was given to me by my parents or those at the orphanage. And without names to give them, searching for my parents has become… a challenge.

Dim light flickers in the room, casting streaks of orange along the walls as I silently sit with my words. Bess remains unaware of my real name as a part of the brothel’s rules, frequently calling me by common pet names like darling.

The names don’t bother me, but I find myself wishing I could tell her more, as she only knows slivers of my life. Since the brothel rules only apply to masks, names, and weapons, Bess knows that I work for King Elion. Only I’ve told her that I remain in the castle as a house maiden as a way to keep my identity a secret.

Her brows suddenly pinch, as if not finding my parents is as painful for her as it is for me.

She frowns. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. Have you tried searching further north? I hear there are a few orphanages along the way to Eldryn.”

I shrug, taking another sip. “I’m not sure King Elion would allow me to leave for so long.”

Which is partially true. King Elion hasn’t sent me that far north yet, and Eldryn is almost two weeks away. The terrain is harsh, as it’s settled beyond Mount Pyre, but you have to travel through the two mountain peaks to arrive.

And there are only a few weeks out of the year when the weather is decent enough to make the trip there safely, as it’s coated in burning ice. It’s why Kiev and Selphira Blackwyth—the duke and duchess of Eldryn—hardly visit. It’s too much of a risk. But not only is the journey there rough, the Twin Valley sits between Eldryn and Alvonia. A valley that comes with its own difficulties when traveling.

“Maybe you can ask the king if you can take a temporary leave,” Bess says with an arched brow. I know she tries to offer whatever help she can, frequently suggesting more options.

I huff with a shake of my head, knowing that King Elion would never allow me to leave to search for my parents. Not unless he intentionally sends me north on a mission for fear of said distractions.

Luke, Malrik, and Ren are typically the ones sent on missions that long, since they’re some of the few full Aetheri in the brotherhood. Their tracking capabilities are superior as two Healers and a Stone Shaper, but they haven’t been on missions that long recently.

“I know what the king would say if I asked. Plus I need the money. I can’t be gone for that long without work.” I shrug.

“You’re right. Even if you are a house maiden, I’m sure he’d deny your request just because he could and then withhold your pay,” she says with a disgruntled huff.

Money’s never been a problem, as King Elion requires hefty payments for his services. But I know why he pays us so well—he craves information. And as long as the brotherhood exists, he’ll continue to collect secrets and requests from the realm’s most elite.

The dukes and duchesses of Elderheim are the same high-ranking families on Elion’s council. They help run the cities, but when it comes to dirty work, they keep their hands clean by paying Elion to send his guards. Though none of them have actually met us or knows who he sends—it’s always private. And because of that, King Elion has become the greatest threat to Elderheim.

Bess sets her glass down with a clink, facing me as she settles herself deeper into the pillows.

“Here’s what I think,” she says, tucking a pillow beneath her as a devious grin lines her mouth. “I think we should set this aside for a while so you can relax and take your mind off it, because I want to know who that male was in the hall.”

A carefree laugh suddenly bubbles out of me as I playfully nudge her even though I know just as much as she does. “How much detail do you want?”

She chuckles. “All of it.”

A few hours go by with what feels like only a blink when I finally bid her goodbye. The wine’s buzz courses through me, head heavy, feet stumbling as I exit Bess’s chambers with a small giggle while she waves.

I only make it a few steps before something dark and shiny catches my attention on the floor. My eyes flick to the ground. A black coin, looking as if it might have belonged to the male that was with me earlier as it rests right where we were lingering.

I bend to pick it up.

The coin feels solid in my grasp—perhaps heavier than it should be—made of a heavy material similar to stone. Though I’ve never seen a coin quite like this one, it almost feels warm to the touch. Like an energy is imbued within the material itself.

I stride down the hall and flip it through my fingers a couple of times before mindlessly placing it in my pocket.