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A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(37)

Author:Amanda Bouchet

“Is that for me?”

He nods, and I scrunch up my nose.

“Not that one. It looks like Cerberus threw up on it.” I look around. “I want that one!” It’s bright red and three times too big. I love it!

He throws the yellow cloth back on the table and buys the red.

Done with the market, he tows me back toward the inn again. Suddenly light-headed, I plop down in the middle of the cobbled street, hearing Beta Sinta’s grunt when the rope cuts into his hips.

I squint up at him. “Serves you right. You could just untie me. Or let me go.”

He smirks. “And miss all this fun?”

I burst out laughing. A second later, he grins back. His smile is broad and makes my heart thump an irregular beat. His nose is a bit hooked, but that makes his face different, interesting. So does the scar. I can’t remember why I don’t like him. In fact, I—

My head snaps around. I felt something. I want it. I jump up, my feet flying.

“Where are you going?” Beta Sinta falls into stride next to me. Carver is on my other side, easily keeping pace.

I don’t answer because I don’t know, not until we turn a corner and race up the steps of a bathhouse. I barrel through the front doors, startling a couple on their way out. Their white robes are cinched with matching hammered-gold belts. Shiny!

I reach for the woman’s belt. She slides away from me, and I let her go. There’s something more important here.

There’s a side for women and a side for men. I don’t care which is which, and I don’t stop to find out. I turn right and run down the marble hallway. There are waves under my feet. Cool foam curls between my toes. I shriek with laughter as a Satyr chases me, trying to pinch my cheeks.

A tall, heavy door stops me in my tracks. I reach for the latch, but for some reason, I keep missing it.

“I get the feeling you’ve never been high before,” Beta Sinta says, leaning around me to open the door.

“Have you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. His eyes dance with silver streaks. They glitter like far-off galaxies in the deep of night. I stare into the scatter of stars, falling, falling…

“Looks like fun,” Carver says, pulling me out of space.

I turn to the wiry swordsman. “Want some? It’s fabulous!”

“No thanks.” Carver grins. “Offering anything else?”

I giggle and blush. Then my smile turns into a pout. “Don’t flirt.”

Carver does his best to look stricken, ignoring Beta Sinta’s glare. “Why not?”

“Don’t you know? Poseidon sent your incredibly annoying brother to me with an oracular dream. Once-in-a-lifetime thing. Except for most people. Most people never have one. Anyway”—I roll my eyes—“he probably thinks it means something.” I snort. “I’d rather eat goat balls. Or goat shit.” I frown, confused. “Or goat cheese!” I shout triumphantly.

They stare at me. I could catch flies in their open mouths. I don’t want any flies, even pink ones.

“Oracular dream?” Beta Sinta says.

“She’s a wealth of information,” Carver murmurs.

“What? Never heard of one?” I shrug. “I’m hot.” Remembering the water, I turn, trip over my own feet, and crash to the floor.

Beta Sinta sets me upright. I run again, driven by blind need. Booted footsteps follow. The rope draws taut and then gives as we burst into a bathing chamber with three naked men. I laugh at their startled expressions and then yank my tunic over my head.

Beta Sinta’s eyes widen. “For the Gods’ sakes, Cat!”

I keep stripping, tossing my clothes into a messy heap.

“Out!” he barks to the room.

There must be something scary about him because all three men jump out of the pool and run, leaving puddles on the floor.

They disappear, and I turn back to Beta Sinta. He doesn’t look that scary to me. I tilt my chin, inspecting him. His hair is the color of a starless night, shiny, and curling softly around his neck. I reach up, playing with the silky strands. They look like ink splashed across my fingers.

Smiling, I smooth stray locks away from his face and then pat his head. “Good Beta.”

There’s a low rumble in his throat.

“Woof!” I bark back.

He grins. Then his eyes drop to my bare chest. His smile freezes, his nostrils flaring as his hands curl into fists.

Heat explodes inside me along with a thousand tiny wings. A flush sweeps up my neck. My nipples harden under his smoldering gaze, and I’m suddenly intensely aware of my own breasts—the sway and the weight, the roundness of them. A muscle ticks in his jaw before his eyes drift down, taking in the rest of me. His expression reminds me of a starving man who just stumbled upon his next meal. Focused. Hungry. Ready to pounce.

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