feel relieved herself. Darkness had eaten at her almost all day, but she wasn’t sure if it was her own pain, or something more.
Aryn’s eyes had roamed over her, like a hand, firm and strong, almost palpable in its intensity. Her nipples were still peaked, pressed hard against her silk blouse, the gay colors of her clan garb bringing false color to her skin. Under the long skirt, she shifted her legs, crossed them, the leather of her thigh-high boots hugging her legs. She was wet with want for him and yet her heart felt bruised.
His words rang once more in her ears.
So now I fuck her to keep her safe?
She hardened her heart and willed magic into her playing, uncaring that she crossed a line she’d once set for herself. She wanted, needed that money.
She would leave in the morning, and return home to Averne.
“Stop playing.”
She ignored his low voice. And played.
Aryn had paid the pub owner for a table near where she played when she hadn’t listened—paid him well enough that the man had evicted the patron sitting there and now he watched her, eyes brooding and intent.
She didn’t look at him as she played on, the music pouring from her flute as magic danced in the air.
A dark shadow came through the door and she looked up instinctively, the hair on her neck standing on end.
A cloaked man took a table in the corner and although a hood shadowed his face, she could feel his eyes on her.
Fear slid through her belly.
There lies death. The man, tall, obscured and hidden in his robes, settled in a corner watching her.
Tearing her eyes from him, and her concentration from Aryn, she played.
Time had passed. Aryn paid the innkeeper more coins, securing himself a room, a large comfortable, clean one, the best the inn had to offer, and after that he had accepted some ale and food from the passing barmaid.
She had offered him a bit more as well, and Tyriel wondered sourly why in hell Aryn had told this one no.
Shoving it out of her mind, she let her eyes wander back to the man in black, whose eyes and face she couldn’t see.
“Tyriel.”
Aryn had left his table again, moving to stand next to her. Her skin felt alternately hot and cold, goosebumps breaking out only disappear as shivers threatened. She didn’t dare look at Aryn, infusing her will into the song in hopes that nobody would take notice of either of them.
The cloaked man, however, wasn’t affected.
Aryn wasn’t swayed, either. He placed a hand on her neck, hard, firm, oddly possessive and warm. As his skin touched hers, the black, terrified feeling in her belly lightened and faded.
Something inside her whispered, Forget your pride, your heart. Stay with him.
If only…
Aryn lowered his head and whispered into her ear, “Stop playing, now, or I’ll carry your fine little ass out of here.” He squeezed her neck in warning.
He let go and she gave him a withering look.
But she drew her song to a close and finished with a flourish, then stooped to gather her money.
With a quick, expert eye, she figured the money would buy the basic supplies she needed and then some. And she could always do some busking along the way if the need arose.
Scooping it into her pouch, she stowed her flute, but before she could toss her second, larger pack over her shoulder, Aryn had taken it and moved through the small door to the side that led to the rooms upstairs.
Damn him. Knowing she had little choice now, she followed him out of the inn’s public room and up the stairs to the sleeping chambers.
“What?” she demanded coldly after following him into one of those rooms, several doors down from the one she’d secured for herself.
He didn’t speak.
Heart racing and stomach in knots, she folded her arms over her chest and glared. Her smaller travel pack still hung over her right shoulder, flute in the outer pocket but when he held out a hand for the pack, as he had a hundred times in the past, she refused, eyes narrowed in challenge.
She heard Irian…not his words…just a murmuring, in the back of her mind. With a snarl, she said, “Stay out of this, you bloody, blasted enchanter.”
Aryn lifted his eyes to her face, those dark, dreamy blue eyes that had totally captured her heart almost from the first.
Irian shimmered into view and stared at Tyriel as well, his intense, hungry gaze rapt on her