| |
TALK ABOUT BEING PUT on the spot. Considering all the hype and anticipation, now that Katerina was faced with Dylan head on she found herself at a complete loss as to what to say.
To be fair, there was no telling whether she would’ve been able to speak anyway. In her entire life—through all the royal gatherings and banquets, all the foreign dignitaries and eighteen years of processions—she had never met anyone quite like Dylan.
It was impossible to take your eyes off him.
Despite being dressed like a commoner, there was a strange kind of magnetism to him. The way he looked. The way he moved. Even in stillness, it was impossible to ignore. When he raised his eyes to look at something, other people turned around to see, too. When his lips twitched up in a smile, one felt compelled to discover the reason why—if only to prolong the experience. When he fixed those mesmerizing eyes on Katerina, she felt as though she’d been frozen still.
He had dark hair that swept across his face with an effortless sort of grace, and what her father would only describe as ‘well-bred’ features. High cheekbones, a strong jaw. There was a masculine sort of ruggedness about him, but an undeniable beauty as well. A beauty that stood out just as much in this filthy bar as did her own. A beauty he seemed determined to ignore himself.
When she simply stood there, at a loss for words, he cocked his head to the side, staring down at her as though there might be something broken in her head.
“...Good talking with you.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and started walking away.
It wasn’t until he’d gone back to the bar that Katerina’s senses returned to her and she came back to life. “Wait!” She battled her way through the crowd and slid onto the stool next to him, grabbing hold of his sleeve. A pointed look made her carefully retract her hand, but she had no intention of letting him go a second time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just...you’re Dylan?”
Looks aside, she had expected someone much, much older. The strong, silent, overly-bearded type. Preferably with a battle-ax permanently affixed to his hand.
Dylan didn’t speak again, as he’d already answered the question. He simply inclined his head and stared down at her, waiting for an explanation.
An explanation she was still too shell-shocked to give.
“You...you saved my life.” She wasn’t quite sure how she knew, but she was suddenly certain that those men had no intention of letting her walk away. That, instead, they had every intention of killing her.
He snapped his fingers for another whiskey, laying a bronze coin upon the bar. “It seemed like someone should.”
Katerina blinked, completely stunned by his indifference. But something in her pressed on. “...and you’re bleeding.”
He glanced down at her for a moment before wiping a smudge off his forehead, looking highly inconvenienced by the whole thing. “You have a brilliant knack for stating the obvious.”
Was he serious?! How was he being so...so casual about everything?!
She pulled her chair an inch or so closer, hoping that the random men leering at her around the bar would take it as a sign, even though the man in question was far more interested in his drink.
“I saw you sitting in the corner when the proprietor called out your name.” She stared at him with wide eyes, trying desperately to latch on to anything she could. “You didn’t come forward.”
Not only that, but he was clearly never going to come forward. He’d glanced up just long enough to see what was going on before returning to his drink—smiling to himself as various creatures started piping up around the bar, claiming to be him.
“I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to speak to you.”
What?
She flinched, stung by the blunt honesty. Never in her life had someone dared speak to her that way. Let alone a stranger who was miles beneath her rank. Let alone when she was already on the verge of tears. He saw her reaction and softened a fraction of a degree.
“In these parts, it isn’t exactly wise to answer an open call. You never know who might be looking for you, or why.” A flicker of curiosity danced through his eyes as he made a quick study of her face. “I only say that because you’re clearly not from around these parts.” He finished his whiskey and set down the glass, turning to face her. The chit-chat part of the conversation had clearly come to an end. He wanted answers now. “Who are you? Why did you ask for me?”
Moment of truth. Katerina’s hands curled around the note in her pocket. Did she give it to him right now, in the middle of the busy tavern? And how much exactly was he allowed to know?
The fairies obviously thought he could be trusted, but he only looked a year or two older than Katerina was herself. And, yes, he had technically just saved her life but, to be honest, it seemed like more of an afterthought. Something he merely did on the way to get his drink.
“Well, you see...” She tucked her hair nervously into her cloak, feeling his smoldering eyes burning into her skin. “I mean, the thing is...”
A flagon of ale crashed down on the counter between them, putting an end to her quiet explanation before it could even get off the ground. But the flagon was the least of her troubles.
“Well, well, well! Look who suddenly remembered his own name!”
Dylan and Katerina turned at the same time as Mika, the beguiling barmaid, set down her towel and joined the conversation, positioning herself firmly between the two.
“So, I see you found him.” She winked at Katerina before leaning all the way over the bar, giving Dylan a clear view of her bosom as she flashed him a seductive smile. “And here we were, all prepared to keep your secret till the bitter end.”
Katerina stiffened uncomfortably, discreetly looking away while Dylan chuckled softly.
“Never really thought loyalty was one of your strong suits.”
Mika flashed another smile, pleased with his teasing. “Maybe not, but I have other talents.”
His lips twitched up in a caustic grin. “So I’ve heard.”
Katerina blinked in shock, unable to believe she was hearing what she was hearing. At the castle, people were only as forward as three centuries of etiquette and a corset would allow, but Mika was on a roll. She leaned down even further, casually reaching for his hand.
“I’d love to show you sometime.”
He shifted just as casually away, thoroughly unfazed by her advances. “Sometime. Right now, I’d just like to see you pour.”
The back and forth came to a sudden stop. A second later Mika straightened up, staring across the counter in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Whiskey. Two of them,” he added with a nod to Katerina, placing another bronze coin upon the counter. “You drink, don’t you, princess?”
Katerina’s face went pale as her eyes flashed up in terror. “...why would you call me that?”
A peculiar smile flitted across Dylan’s face, while Mika merely rolled her eyes and poured two glasses of the thick, amber liquid. The smell of it saturated the air, burning the inside of the princess’ nose as she forced the awkward moment behind them, and held it up for a tentative sniff.
Holy hells! How can anyone drink this stuff?!
Her revulsion must have showed on her face, because Dylan chuckled again as Mika shook her head, looking distinctly unimpressed. “This is why you’re blowing me off? For her?”
“Don’t be unkind.” His eyes danced with amusement as they rested upon the princess. “I’m sure she has a few hidden talents herself.”
Mika scoffed as if this was highly unlikely, while Katerina blushed to the roots of her hair. In a desperate attempt to fit in she took a brave gulp of whiskey, fighting back a gasp of shock as her eyes watered involuntarily. It was like swallowing liquid fire. A far cry from the floral wines and sparkling ales of the castle. Whatever was in that cup would be better used resuscitating the dead.
“It’s...” she cleared her throat and forced a pained smile, “it’s very good.”
Dylan’s eyes twinkled as he took a sip from his own glass, but Mika’s rather limited patience had reached an end. She was unwilling to admit defeat. And she was just as unwilling to let her prize go off with someone she deemed highly unworthy.
“Seriously, how many times are you going to keep saying no to me?” She ignored Katerina completely, plumping her lips out in a sexy pout. “I’ve got a room upstairs. You know you want to.” This time she caught his hand, lacing her long fingers through his own.
For a split second, a strange, vacant expression came over his face before he tugged his wrist away with a rueful grin. “What I want is to live to see tomorrow morning.”
She stepped back with a playful smile. “Call it a lack of imagination on your part.”
“More like a vested interest in my own self-preservation.”
With a parting grin he pushed to his feet, holding out an arm and gesturing for Katerina to do the same. She quickly followed after him, completely baffled by what had just happened.
“You never know.” Mika cast him a wistful look as the two of them melted away into the crowd, picking up her towel and returning to the glasses. “You might get lucky...”
For whatever reason, the words gave Katerina chills as she followed her unlikely savoir to the same private booth he’d already claimed in the back. It wasn’t until she sat down that she realized the strategic advantage of such a position. He was back far enough to have a view of the entire tavern, and close enough to the exit to make a quick getaway if he so desired.
Katerina’s eyes were still lingering on the door, when he cleared his throat quietly, summoning her attention.
“As you were saying—”
“What did you mean?” Katerina interrupted with wide eyes. “That you wanted to live to see tomorrow morning?”
Dylan paused, a little taken aback, before his eyes flickered reflexively to the bar. “Mika’s a succubus. It would be an amazing night, but it would also be my last.”
Well, that explains it!
While the succubae were a little too racy for her royal nursery books, Katerina had heard some of the male servants talking about them. Supernatural temptresses who lured men to their deaths by enticing them to bed. They were supposed to be nearly impossible to resist. Even more so if they managed to lay a hand on your bare skin. She didn’t know how Dylan managed to do it.
“But surely she can’t want to kill you!”
Katerina had only observed them for a short time, but despite the dangerous banter there was a playfulness to the way they interacted. She’d even go so far as to say they were friends.
Dylan shrugged good-naturedly, as if these things could seldom be helped.
“It’s what she is—you can hardly blame her. Just like you can hardly blame those vampires.”
Oh yeah? Why don’t you watch me blame...wait...what?!
Katerina froze perfectly still, a beautiful statue amidst the frenzy of the bar. “Did you say...vampires?”
Dylan took a swig of whiskey, staring at her over the rim of the glass. Unable to decide whether or not she was joking. In the end, he decided to take her at her word.
“What did you think they were—men? And honestly,” he gestured to her with a careless wave of his hand, “what did you expect?”
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows shot into her hair as she bristled defensively. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I should expect to get attacked, just because I’m a woman on my own—”
“You’re covered in blood.”
Well, that stopped her in her tracks.
At first she just stared at him, convinced that she must have misheard. Then a couple of things started clicking into place. The glass that had broken over her head when she’d first walked through the door. The one she’d hoped was red wine. The way the four pale men had stood up the second they laid eyes on her, sniffing the air eagerly as they wound their way through the crowd.
A drink for me, then, the vampire had said. Just a taste.
Katerina reached up to touch the damp hood of her cloak in horror.
Well, no wonder! It’s like walking around with a giant ‘EAT ME’ sign around my neck!
“You could always take it off,” Dylan said casually, gesturing to the slick fabric. “Unless you’re going for the whole goth-chic look. In which case, you’re taking it a bit too seriously.”
Instead of taking his suggestion Katerina pulled the cloak tighter around herself, glaring at the beautiful man with growing dislike. “Is everything a damn joke to you—”
“Why were you looking for me?”
There was no preamble. No wind-up to give her any warning. People living on the outskirts of the kingdom had learned long ago to dispense with wasted words. They cut to the core of a matter. No pretenses. No delays. Just the cold, hard truth.
Still...she didn’t know exactly what to say. It was no ordinary secret she was carrying. It was the kind of secret that could topple an empire. The kind of secret that could get her killed.
After a second of waiting, Dylan shifted impatiently. “All right, let’s start with something easier. Why don’t you tell me your name?”
Crap...not easier at all.
Katerina blanched, her mind racing as she simultaneously blanked on every single human name. When those didn’t work, she decided to go with an inhuman one. “Marigold.”
Dylan leaned back in surprise, his sky-blue eyes taking in every detail of her face. It was clearly not the answer he’d been expecting. “Your name is—”
“Marigold sent me to find you. She seemed to think that you could help me.” Katerina fumbled quickly in her pocket, pulling out the note. “Here. She said to give you this.”
He didn’t reach for the note. He didn’t even acknowledge it. It lay on the table between them. A silent invitation.
One he clearly had no intention of accepting.
“Marigold sent you to find me,” he repeated slowly, testing out the words for truth. When Katerina only nodded his eyes narrowed slightly, fixing with unnerving intensity on her face. “Well, if you met Marigold, then I take it you met her sisters, Freya and Nair.”
“Nixie and Beck?” the princess answered, rising to the challenge. “Yes, we’ve met.”
He gave a slight nod, temporarily satisfied. But still, he had yet to even look at the note, and Katerina’s skin had broken out in a cold sweat. Finally, after a full minute of silence, he took a swig of his drink, hardly blinking as the aged whiskey burned down his throat. “So why is Marigold under the impression that you need my help?” he asked bluntly. “I’m assuming you’re in some kind of trouble.”
An image of her brother’s hell hounds flashed through her head, and Katerina stifled a shudder. Trouble? Yeah, you could say that. She almost felt guilty bringing it to his door. “The thing is, I’ve sort of...run away from home.” She hesitated nervously, editing on the fly. “My family will have sent people after me, the kind of people who make those vampires look tame, but I can’t go back. No matter what happens...I can’t go back.”
She’d tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. Tried to ignore the hell hounds, and the frightening tavern, and her blood-soaked clothing. She tried to tune it all out and simply force herself to keep pushing forward. But after everything that had happened...it was a lost cause.
A visible tremble shook her shoulders as the tiniest sigh escaped her lips. It was a sigh of pure exhaustion. As defeated as it was resigned.
Dylan didn’t miss a thing.
His eyes swept over her with growing curiosity. Curiosity, and another emotion that was harder to identify. Was it sympathetic? Was it protective? For a split second he glanced down, and it looked as though he was going to pick up the note right then and there. But a stronger, more practiced, side of him held back. The side that had learned to keep his head down and mind his own business. The kind that had learned the hard way not to get tangled up in the troubles of strangers.
Instead, he stalled for time. Rehashing the facts. Getting the full sum of the story.
“So I take it you ran away from home straight into Marigold’s arms? And you’ve been hiding out from these familial repercussions ever since?”
Katerina nodded quickly. It was obvious there were quite a few gaps in her tale, but if he was going to be gracious enough to overlook them she certainly wasn’t going to press. “Yes, that’s right.”
There was a slight pause before he broke her gaze and looked down at the table.
“And she sent you to me?” A faint smile ghosted across his face before he drained what was left of his whiskey, muttering under his breath. “Interfering, self-important fairies...”
By now, Katerina was on the edge of her seat. Hardly daring to move. Hardly daring to breathe as she watched his every move. Waiting to see what he would do next. “So...does that mean that you’ll—”
“Sorry, princess. Can’t help.”
In a brisk movement he was up from the table, leaving the whole dismal story behind him as he headed for the door. He’d left the note, too.
Katerina stared after him in shock. Unable to believe it was true. Unable to believe that the fairies could be so wrong. That their hometown hero was leaving her to fend for herself. It took a second for her to find her feet. For her to snatch up the note and race after him.
“Wait!” She pushed open the heavy door and ran out into the street. By now, the full moon had risen high above the little village and a gust of frigid air hit her right in the face, stunning her senseless. She squinted her eyes as she tried to find him in the dark.
It wasn’t easy. Unlike the bright colors and opulent shades of the castle, everything here seemed to be in earth tones. Worn creams. Dirtied browns. Dark, weathered boots. It wasn’t until he passed under the light of a distant store front that she saw him again striding purposefully into the night as the moon streaked silver into his dark hair.
She took after him without a second thought. Tearing down the middle of the road. Pushing past whatever scattered pedestrians were still left on the street. Hardly noticing anything going on around her, until she’d shoved him in the back as hard as she could.
“What the he—” He whirled around in surprise, but by that time she’d already recovered her balance. And her anger.
Her arms were folded tightly around her chest, and her eyes flashed pure fire as they burned into him in the dark. “So that’s it?!” she demanded. “You’re just walking away?!”
He blinked incredulously. “Did you just push me?”
She pushed him again. “Like it never even happened! Like we never even met!”
He stumbled backwards in surprise, staring down at her ineffectual hands. “What are you—six?”
“I will NOT make any apologies!” she shouted. “I am fighting for my LIFE!”
He stared at her in shock for a moment before recovering himself, smoothing down his disheveled clothes and raking his fingers through his hair. “And I wish you the best of luck with that. But it’s not going to involve me.”
He tried to turn again but she grabbed his arm, pulling with all her might. For a moment, he merely stared down at his sleeve, both astonished and exasperated at the same time. Then he seemed to take pity on her and reluctantly turned back. Either that, or he didn’t want to rip his coat.
“So the fairies were wrong to trust you,” she spat, channeling every bit of misdirected rage into a single moment, onto a single target. “You’re not a savior, you’re just a drunk.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but seemed to think better of it. There was something too desperate about her to challenge. Something too despondent to engage. Instead, he merely agreed with a tip of his head. “That’s me. Just a drunk. And I’d best be getting home.”
She threw up her hands with a bitter laugh—all the fears and emotions of the last few days catching up as hysterical tears began pouring down her face. “Of course you should! Please, don’t let my impending death keep you from any of the fascinating things I’m sure you had planned for the evening. Mucking out the stables, feeding the pigs...”
His eyes flashed as they glanced about the darkened street before he reached out suddenly and grabbed her arm. The tears stopped immediately as she stared up at him in terror. She knew this man could fight. She knew this man could kill. And here she was, yelling at him in the middle of the street, giving him every possible motivation to do exactly that.
“Three things.”
While he was clearly just as incensed as she, he didn’t raise his voice to make it known. He lowered it instead. Speaking in a dangerously soft clip.
“First of all, you don’t know a thing about me or my life. So keep your delightful opinions to yourself. Second, no one in this world is under any obligation to help you. Do you understand? You chose to leave, that’s it. You’re on your own. Simple as that. Don’t go around expecting a hand up, because that’s just not the way things work around here.”
He released her arm just as abruptly as he’d grabbed it, leaving her trembling and shaken in its wake. The reality of her situation was beginning to settle upon her but, strangely enough, she didn’t blame him in the slightest. He was right—he was under no obligation. Nothing that had happened had anything to do with him, let alone was his fault. He was just a man whose name she’d heard from a trio of lunatic fairies. The nightmare? The men chasing after her in the night?
Those were hers to deal with alone.
“What’s the third thing?”
He looked down in surprise at the sudden change of her tone. The lifeless sort of resignation that dulled her sharp words. It was as if a light had gone out. One that wouldn’t rekindle.
“Excuse me?”
Her eyes glassed over as she stared blankly into the dark, hardly aware of what she was saying. “You said there were three things, but you only said two. What’s the third?”
For the first time all night, the hint of an apology flashed across his handsome face. It was obviously a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to, and it didn’t linger long. But it was there for a moment.
“You might want to rinse off some of that blood. Can never be too careful in these parts.”
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before she took a step back. The roaring bonfire had simmered down to coals, and her time in the tiny village had come to an end. In the morning she’d be leaving, for better or worse. Her lips twitched up in a lifeless smile as she nodded in farewell. “Thanks for the tip.”
Before he could open his mouth to respond, she was already walking away. Sparing not a glance behind her. Keeping her bloodshot eyes locked on the shadowy road. When she was about halfway back to the tavern, she rifled around in her pocket and tossed the note from the fairies onto the street. She wouldn’t be needing it. Not anymore.
Just one night, then you’ll leave this place behind. Just one night, then you’ll start off someplace new.
Little did she know the night was just getting started...
