A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

The little boy scurried around the desk, heading for the door without looking once in my direction. If he went outside—

“Not there, boy. Ya know better.” Nor snapped his fingers and pointed to a narrow, dark hall. “Get to bed while there’s one empty, and don’t go runnin’ off like ya did last time.”

The child wheeled around with surprising speed, disappearing into the hall. A door clapped shut. I truly hoped the child stayed there, but I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Which meant, I didn’t have a lot of time to get to him.

“Godsdamn kids,” Nor muttered. “Ya got any?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. I got two of ‘em. Or did.” He laughed as he dragged what sounded like a chair across the floor.

“Did?” I questioned.

“Yeah, my girlie went and got herself into some trouble, I imagine. Probably that damn mouth of hers. She never learned how to use it right. Just like her mother didn’t know.” Another laugh, thick and wet. “How old are ya?”

I turned to Nor, brushing the cape so the halves rested over my shoulders. “Does it matter?”

His eyes fixed on the only enticing part about the gown. “Nah, girlie. It don’t.” Nor sat down in the chair, spreading his legs. “Ya lookin’ fresh. I bettin’ you were some Lord’s fancy little plaything. He get tired of ya?”

“I was.” Ducking my chin, I smiled coyly. “But his wife…”

He snickered. “Ya ain’t gotta worry about no wives ‘round here.” Eyeing me, his hand slid below his waist. “Ya sure are a pretty girlie.”

I stood still, no longer acting like someone else but becoming nothing. No one. Not something beautiful and powerful. It was like donning that veil as he spewed vulgarity and decay. I wasn’t me. I became this thing that had been groomed into a submissive, moldable creature. One that could be shaped into whatever the Primal of Death desired, what he might fall in love with. A servant. A wife. A warm, soft body. A killer. And this disgusting excuse for a man looked at me as if he could sculpt me into one of his girlies.

“Don’t be nervous.” Nor patted his knee. “I work out the best agreements when I got a pretty girlie in my lap.”

“I’m not nervous.” I wasn’t. I felt absolutely nothing but disgust and anger, and those feelings didn’t even run deep enough to speed up my heart rate or pulse. I think I only felt them because I believed I should feel something when I knew how this would end.

I went to him, making a mental note to scrub the soles of my boots as I climbed onto his lap, slowly lowering myself onto him.

“Damn.” His hand clasped my hip and squeezed hard. I twitched, not at the discomfort but at the contact. It was nothing like those long nights when I sought to chase away the loneliness. It was nothing like when that god had touched me. “Ya ain’t nervous.”

“No.”

“I think I’ll like ya, girlie.” Nor lifted his other hand, leaning his head back against the chair. Those broken knuckles grazed my cheek before reaching around to grasp the braid I had twisted into a bun. A fiery sting traveled across my scalp as he jerked my head back. I closed my eyes, not fighting his hold. “Now, girlie…”

If he called me girlie one more time…

“Ya got to show me why I should let ya give it to me,” he said, his breath hot against the length of my neck. “Instead of just takin’ it from ya and keepin’ ya all for myself until I get tired of ya. Then I’ll let ya make some coin off that pretty face. Maybe I’ll just do that anyway, so you better be impressin’ me.”

My eyes opened as I placed my hand on his shoulder. Fighting the burn of hair pulled too tight, I lowered my chin until his dark, rheumy eyes met mine. His face was even more flushed, with lust or maybe anger. I didn’t think this man could tell the difference between the two. “I will impress you.”

“Confident, are ya?” He licked his lips again. “I like that, girlie.”

I smiled.

Stretching so that enticing area was all he could focus on, I shifted my hips forward, drawing my right leg up. I didn’t think about the sound he made, what I felt under me, or how he smelled as I reached into the shaft of my boot with my free hand. All I needed to do was knock him out, which wouldn’t be difficult. I fully recognized I’d allowed it to get to this point. I could’ve incapacitated him the moment I knew where the child was, but I hadn’t, and I supposed that was very telling. I also supposed that I should be worried about that as my fingers curled around the hilt of the slender iron blade, and it pressed against my unmarked palm. But this male was a user and an abuser. I was willing to bet he was worse, and that Lady Sunders’ impressions were spot on about his wife. I knew this man reaching for the flap of his breeches was like the gods who’d killed those mortals. I slid the blade from my boot.