Chapter 8

T he Nightingale's lengthy encore ended, and we came to a halt, applauding. A scowling Xar'vathi male—impossibly muscular with three sets of horns, one bending over his head like a halo, two smaller pairs at his temples—led her off stage.

On our way back to our seats, I stumbled, dizzy from spinning, but before I could fall, my feet were treading air.

My breath hitched.

I was helpless in Skrain's strong arms.

"I have you now," he whispered.

Pressed against his chest, I blinked up at him. My heart beat rapidly, but I couldn't tell if it was the joy of dancing or that gleam in his eyes, or maybe the way his fingers curled around the bend of my knee.

His face was flushed, red creeping along the tips of his ears.

Did I make him blush—or just the exertion on the dance floor?

He carried me back to the sofa, only letting go once I sat safely and comfortably. The maid brought fresh wine, and I noticed how thirsty I was. I didn't stop drinking until my glass was empty, savoring the sweetness of berries bursting in my mouth.

"I heard Nyxis was booked out for the rest of the year. The owner of one of the larger taverns tried to convince her to play, but it was impossible. How did you manage to get her here? You're obviously wealthy, but are you some sort of crime lord?" I snickered at my own question. "What exactly is it you do? Or will you have to kill me if you tell me the truth?"

Skrain's head tipped back in laughter, a gilded stud gleaming in his forked tongue. I swallowed hard, heat rising in my bloodstream as I imagined what that little ball of metal would feel like against my nipples, sliding over my clit.

"I'm a jewel merchant, Ellaryth. I started with a single emerald mine, but now I own mines all over Xar'vath. And some jewelry enterprises on this continent, too."

He paused, looking away. For a moment I thought I had broached the wrong subject, when he glanced back to me with a grin.

"My success is based on a successful, uh, worker's revolt. Let's call it that. Long story short, after I dispatched the previous leadership, I came out on top. I changed a few things, and turns out, fair pay and decent conditions make for happy, eager workers. But as you can see, I still make a hefty profit." His smile grew smug. "Besides, I have my contacts, too, and I can be very persuasive."

"Oh, I can tell … I mean about the persuasive part." My face flamed like the torch of the fire breather entering the stage.

Emily could've left off the blush. Skrain was turning me into a tomato all by himself.

"Can you now?" he teased, raising a brow. "But jokes aside. Did you see the gold and ruby necklace Nyxis was wearing? And the matching bracelet? The earrings? The Nightingale is more of a magpie actually. She has a fondness for luxury, and I was more than able to provide an incentive for her to consider my request."

His expression turned serious, urgency narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his forehead. My heart sped as I caught his pleading gaze.

"I can give you anything you want, too, my priceless treasure. Anything . You just need to nod, and I'll lay this world at your feet. You won't have to work another day in your life. I'll make you my queen, drape you in gold and silver, cover you in jewels, bed you in gossamer and silk every night."

My pulse stumbled as he took my hands into his. Everything about Skrain was intoxicating. Those sweet nothings. Empty promises like cut, painted glass, shimmering like priceless gems. The devotion in his eyes. Adoration seemingly as deep as the ocean, as if he'd loved me for years. I felt drunk just from looking at him, listening to him.

But none of it could be true.

Skrain was the worst best liar I'd ever met.

I was no one to him. Nothing more than a pretty stranger. Someone he paid to fuck him, though I couldn't imagine why someone like him—wealthy, charming, well-spoken—would have the need to hire a courtesan. Surely, people were lining up to spend time with him or to warm his bed.

But no client had ever complimented me like he did. No one had ever made the effort to make me believe I meant something to them or that I was more than an object.

Maybe I should have hated Skrain for toying with me. For thinking he could win me over with such obvious falsities.

But just for tonight, I wanted to believe him.

For these brief hours we had together, I wanted to believe that a man like him, a man who had everything, could buy anything and anyone, desired me . Fiercely. Unconditionally. That he wanted me more than anything else in the world, more than my flesh to use for his pleasure.

Oh, how quickly I caved.

A few hours ago, I'd have called him out on his shit. But now our first meeting seemed decades ago, as if a century had passed while we danced.

So, I asked Skrain for the one thing I could trust him to give me.

The worst taboo for every courtesan.

The most dangerous illusion.

"Then tell me you love me," I choked out, shame and lust burning in my veins. I sounded ridiculous. Pathetic. Needy. "Deceive me. Make me believe it like you promised."

Skrain tilted his head toward me, leaning in close. His hot breath slithered up from the base of my neck, his long lashes tickling like feathers.

"I love you," he whispered, passion straining his voice, breaking the letters into glittering fragments.

Creators, it sounded like he meant it.

My throat closed with emotion, and the hot, tingling pull in my belly swept between my thighs. I had never been this attracted to anyone, body and mind. It was too easy to surrender to him.

"I can't stop myself from touching you, Ella. Can't stop yearning for you. You don't understand how lonely my life has been and how brutal I had to be to survive, to get where I am now," Skrain mumbled. "My heart is as hard and cold as the jewels I sell. It's tainted green with envy, jealous of every blissful lover, covered in thorns from enduring endless years of bitter solitude, of guarding myself."

A sharp scrape of his teeth along my vulnerable throat had me flinching, and he hitched me hard against him, his digits pressed into my waist, finding the holes in my dress to dig into my skin. Against the curve of my jaw, his lips felt even softer than on my knuckles.

"They say there's nothing money can't buy," he whispered, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yet coin can't spark a flame in the quiet grave behind my ribs. I tried. Oh, I tried. But you … you are a bruise upon my soul. You are the sickness I long to suffer, the sting of venom my withered heart craves."

My eyes burned with inexplicable, held-back tears as I gave in to his nipping kisses, my fingers drifting to his horns. His wandering mouth mapped a sensual path across my cheek, above my cupid's bow, to my chin. Anywhere but my lips.

It was torture, and I couldn't stand another moment of it.

I turned my head to capture Skrain's mouth, but his hand snapped from my arm into my hair. A cry escaped me as he wrenched my head back, keeping our faces apart.

"Ever since I first saw you, Ellaryth, you have consumed my every thought, even my dreams. I knew right then I needed to hold you. Feel you. Taste you. I knew I couldn't give up until I owned you."

More beautiful lies.

Skrain picked me from the brothel's catalog, just like the other clients did. He knew nothing more about me than the sketch, my measurements, and which services I provided. You couldn't fall in love with a rough pencil portrait.

And neither could you fall in love with a stranger after a few hours of drinks and dancing, right?

But my chest still heaved, and my head swam. He made me feel like I was losing my mind.

Our closeness blurred his gorgeous features, yet I could still see that blazing need in his eyes.

"I wanted to give you more time, wanted you to know I'm not just after physical pleasure. I want to know you, Ella," he whispered. "But I can't hold back a second longer. It's been so long, and we both want this. I know exactly what you need, my priceless treasure, and if you beg, I'll give it to you."

Skrain's mouth crashed against mine.

This wasn't a kiss. It was utter domination, a heated struggle on the battlefield of my body—and I accepted scorching defeat like a glimmering prize.

He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until it stung. I moaned, tasting iron as he forced his forked tongue into my mouth, exploring. Claiming.

Tart wine and smoke.

That's what the Heavens must have tasted like … because it's what he tasted like.

Skrain tossed his head back, earrings jingling when he reached underneath the sofa. He pulled out a braided rope of black silk, eyes flaring as they searched mine.

"Hands behind your back," he ordered.

I was shaking with adrenaline, but before I made the conscious decision, my body reacted on its own. His assertive tone flicked a switch inside me, as if I had been trained and conditioned to obey him.

Creators, why were my panties already soaked?

"What are you going to do to me?" I rasped, holding my hands behind me.

Our lips brushed as he embraced me to wrap the rope around my crossed wrists. Tighter. Tighter. My shoulders pulled back from the binding, forcing me to push out my chest. He caressed along my arms, over my shoulders.

"I'm going to touch you like no one else ever has." He cupped my breasts, the pads of his thumbs rubbing my hard nipples, and my long sigh made him grin. "I'll do everything you've ever dreamed about, Ella. And everything you're afraid of."