Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
He drinks some of his second whiskey, and comes back with the glass. “I doubt sex with you is very much fun.”
I think of Merc leaving the bed we shared and choke up that this stranger may be telling the truth. But now is not the time to fall into my own emotions.
When I make no response, he shakes his head. “You are serious, then.”
“You have heard of me,” I say softly. “I am whispered of in the darkness, the one who knows when the time for dying comes, the one who brings the bairns back from death, the girl who can harness the magic that should not be used. You know who I am.”
This time, as Thale goes still, he doesn’t even breathe. I know this because that diamond that’s twinkled even in this low lighting to the beat of his respiration offers no flashing. Then he jerks the glass to his lips and throws his head back.
“I don’t believe you.” He goes to the bar once more and puts the glass down. When he turns back around, his right hand is tucked in close to his hip. “There is no such female.”
“Then why do you have your hand on your firearm.”
Gone is all trace of joking in him now, as well as any sexual impulse: He becomes utterly serious. And I truly know I’ve put my life on the line.
“You’re smart to have this lair to retreat to.” I glance around the room. “With the amount of money and power you have? You’re the king in this den of iniquity, but you’re also the prime target. If you know what your death is, you could prevent it. Protect yourself. And I’m the only person who can provide you with the how and when.”
Abruptly, he leans back against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll say it again. I don’t believe you.”
“Then meet my gaze.” I shrug. “Whatever do you have to lose? A big, strong man such as yourself, surely you’re not afraid of a little woman like me.”
“Of course not.”
Except he comes no closer. He stays where he is.
He will not be able to resist, however. He will have to know—or at the very least, hear what I have to tell him, even if he thinks it’s a lie.
With an elegant flourish, Thale takes off his top hat and puts it aside by the decanters. His hair is black and wavy, but has a white streak in front. Pulled back and tied with a black thong, his hawk-like features announce exactly what he is.
A man who rules by the fist and the firearm.
“Nothing will come of this,” he announces.
“So there is naught to worry over, is there. Meet my eyes.”
“You are the one dodging mine.”
“Are you saying you’re ready?”
With three long strides, he plants himself before me and bends down so that our faces are on the same level. In a derisive voice, he says, “Should I brace myself.”
“No, that’s what I must do.” I put my hand out to shake. “Have we a deal?”
“You’re a trusting sort.”
“Not at all. The working women here are very well cared for. They’re healthy, comfortable, and confident as they move around. Given your clientele, I know this is because you protect them so—”
“I am done talking. The time for games is over.”
Taking a deep breath, I shift my eyes up and meet his—
The gasp explodes out of me, and I go for my throat as I taste copper. Staggering to the side, I put my hand out as the air going down into my lungs bubbles through the blood that rushes out of the open slice running nearly from ear to ear. As I suddenly pitch forward, I head for where the decanters are, to the table. Slapping my hand down, the glass he drank out of goes flying and shatters as my fingers shove to the edge and seek a specific spot under the top.
Where there’s a hidden latch.
Still gagging and weaving, I free it, and a drawer shoots out from under. Without looking inside, my palm locks on some kind of grip and I pull out a silver pistol. Swinging the heavy weapon around, my legs splay out and I fall back against the table, the bottles rattling—
It’s the man with the beard. He’s standing over me, but what’s in his hand makes no sense. I guess it’s a knife, but it’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before. An icicle? Like the ones that form on the roof edge in winter?
Surely I’m not seeing this right—
The bearded man’s mouth is moving. He’s taunting me as I struggle to hold the pistol up. My strength is declining fast—the silver weapon drops from my grip, and I put both my hands back up to my throat. I look down. The diamond pin on the tie is a ruby now from my blood, which is puddling under me.