Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (11)

If I fled, then I would face yet another gigantic setback and certain danger. Like so many with business in the middle lands, Morin would have people to punish those who dared to disrespect her. If I stayed, then I would face the stranger awaiting the use of my body on the other side of the door that seemed to pulse with the uneven thud of my heart.

As if plucking a piece of broken glass from my foot, I seized the handle with gritted teeth and opened the door.

Of course, the first thing I noticed was the bed. Deep purple gauze was secured with black ribbon to the four posts surrounding it. It waited dressed in similar colored bedding in the center of the far wall.

I saw nothing else.

My teeth unglued, my attention stolen by the commanding presence of my first client.

He stood at an oak liquor cabinet mere feet from where I was frozen in the doorway, his hair only a shade lighter than the rippling black silk of his loose shirt. I drew in his staggering height, then the long fingers leaving the crystal decanter of whiskey he set down.

The most beautiful man I’d ever seen turned, his thick hair whispering over a broad shoulder. “You’re late.”

I was unable to keep my eyes from widening as my heartbeat stalled.

Man was the wrong word.

Every inch of him was pure and cold-blooded faerie.

My heart restarted with a violent patter. Unsure how to respond—how to talk at all—I uttered dumbly, “I am?”

He stilled, and I knew I’d displeased him. The air changed, growing chilled with talons and teeth as he turned in full.

I almost wished he hadn’t.

His eyes were a blue so deep, they resembled the sky before an evening storm. Fringed in dark lashes, their uncompromising weight caused my heart to cease racing in my chest.

It stopped beating entirely as the male’s thick brows furrowed and he gave the glass of whiskey to his parting mouth. His nose was strong and straight without a trace of past injury, and his lips so full I couldn’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel against my own when he lowered the glass.

He licked them, and my stomach tightened. The odd sensation worsened when he swallowed the liquor.

Hypnotized by the dipping of his throat, my gaze traversed the olive skin as though I could follow the whiskey’s journey into his body. A body that, even covered in clothing, overwhelmed. Burning with shame and something I failed to recognize, I couldn’t remove my eyes from the small smattering of dark hair revealed where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned at his throat.

His voice was bark wrapped in silk. His order one I didn’t even consider disobeying as he said with quiet authority, “Do close the door.”

I tore my eyes from his chest and turned to do as he said, using the opportunity to take a moment. I took a few more as I locked the wooden barrier with the golden chain, unable to believe what I’d just done.

I’d blatantly ogled my client.

A client of whom I’d need to bed.

A male of whom was both breathtakingly beautiful and extremely terrifying.

As though he could read my mind, and likely scent what I was undoubtedly flooding the room with, humor thickened his tone. “Do you not wish to look at me some more?”

My cheeks caught fire. “I apologize. You just...” I turned back, but found I couldn’t meet his eyes. I fastened my own upon the large velvet divan beside me. “Well, I suppose you shocked me.”

Shocked was putting it mildly.

It was not for me to discern why anyone visited this establishment, but curiosity had me wondering what beneath the stars would possess such a creature to pay for pleasure? He had no need, surely, regardless of whatever his tastes may be.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

I shook my head and clasped my hands before me to keep them from trembling. “I wasn’t told anything about whom I would uh...” I winced, deciding on, “I would meet.”

The faerie said nothing for a moment, but his attention was a frost pressing upon every part of me. I heard him swallow as he drained the whiskey. The glass hit the wood behind him with a thud that nearly made me jump.

“Frightened, little butterfly?”

At that, I looked at his brown leather boots. They were giant and pointed at the toes. “No.”

“If you’re going to be so bold as to lie, you will at least do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye while you do.”

His crisp words washed the heat from my cheeks. My spine locked, every instinct screaming to flee.

I could already hear Madam Morin’s threatening disapproval, so I did as he wished. I met his gaze, expecting to find a glower—more displeasure within the endless dark blue.

Instead, I found a calm stillness to his features, rendering them sharp like stone, and a studious glow that brightened his eyes. “Much better,” he murmured, and his head tilted slightly. “Now try again.”

“Try again?” I asked, confused.

“Answering the question.”

Oh. I squeezed my fingers together.

It was growing abundantly clear that I was doomed.

Whoever this male was, he was not from Crustle. His demeanor, the power roiling from him like a second shadow carried as an ever-fluttering invisible cloak, was too much.

It was as lethal and true to every word I’d heard and read of those with enhanced magical abilities. Of those native to Folkyn.

He was going to punish me by speaking of my incompetence and disrespect to Madam Morin. I could feel it. Or worse, he might even hurt and humiliate me until he’d felt I’d sufficiently learned my lesson.