The problem was that after the last twenty-four hours, I would be hard pressed for sleep. Not without a distraction, at least. And so I went hunting for one.
I was not a man of many vices.
I had a rather…stringentupbringing. One that bred a great deal of self-discipline and regiment, but ascetic I was not. I rarely drank to the point of inebriation, had never willingly touched an ounce of any drug in my life, and I was not a betting man… but I was still a man, one with as many carnal cravings as the next. Perhaps more.
Probably more.
I was not a man of many vices, but to say that I often overindulged in theonevice that I allowed myself might have been an understatement.
This tavern was not one of my regular haunts, but I knew it had a certain reputation, and pickings would be slim at nearly six in the morning. After ordering a single round of ale and getting comfortable at a corner table, I began to scan the room for possibilities.
A woman who looked to be in her thirties glanced over at me from across the bar, and I allowed my gaze to flicker over her briefly. She was attractive, if not a bit thin, but there was a tell-tale droop in her expression. A dull sort of glassiness to her gray-blue eyes that told me all I needed to know. She was drunk off her ass.
No, thanks.
Given my own proclivities, I could hardly judge those who found solace at the bottom of a bottle, but I preferred my quarries conscious and consenting. I continued my casual scan through the tavern, which was surprisingly busy for six in the godsdamned morning. I supposed the place had earned its reputation after all.
That was both convenientandinconvenient for me, because sure—there were plenty of bodies in the building, but most had seemingly entered the night before. And many were chasing away their hangovers with another round or three. I couldonly sympathize with the poor barkeep who was surrounded by shuffling feet and slurred speech.
This was, admittedly, not my sort of place.
My line of work was not particularly suited for…relationships. Or any sort of long-term commitments, for that matter. But I liked to fuck—hard and often. And while my tastes in participating parties weren’t exactly particular, I held myself to certain standards with who I chose to take home, whether that be for an hour or an evening. Never much more than that.
This much alcohol didn’t play nice with enthusiastic consent, or decent sex for that matter. And bad sex… Well, that wasn’t much of a distraction, now was it?
“Looking for someone?” A low voice called from my left, just as I was about ready to take my leave.
A handsome man with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes that glinted green in the low light was leaning casually against the table beside me. His head was cocked with a curious grin, and he made no efforts to conceal the slow once-over he was giving me. I took advantage of the opportunity to do the very same, and I liked what I saw.
Not anymore, I’m not.
“Oh?” A lighter, more feminine voice called from behind him, a manicured hand snaking around his waist. “Who’s this?”
“A good time,” I replied, taking a sip of my drink as I gave them both a slow, methodical glance, studying their body language. Reading their signals. They were far from subtle.
The femme who had just joined us also made no efforts to conceal her interest, either—biting down on her painted lip as her eyes roved hungrily from my face, to my neck, to my groin. She twirled a single, strawberry blonde curl with one finger, and though her eyes were also hooded, it was with lust over liquor—and I chuckled softly. She was pretty, though I was more interested in her partner at the moment.
I knew what they saw when they stared me down—a handsome face, a hint of danger in my scars and tattoos, a well-toned physique. A toy to be used, perhaps, but I was down to play. That’s what I was here for, after all.
“You know, I was sort of hoping you’d say that,” the man said, his grin spreading slowly. His partner’s eyes lit up like a sparkling solstice pyre, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Talk about an easy target. What was that saying again? A bird in the hand is worth two in the sack?
“Your place, or mine?”
Chapter Five
Arken
The warmth of whatever liquid I had just swallowed was coating my throat like a syrup, but aside from that physical sensation, I didn’t feel any different as I entered the next room… until I saw them.
By the Fates.
Seventeen… Eighteen… Nineteen. I sucked in a breath. All nineteen of the Aetherborne were here today.
Apparently, that was not always the case. The Elders did not often leave Sophrosyne, but they would travel overseas on occasion. You only really needed one Aetherborne to approve your entry to the Arcane Studium. Because of this, I had almost been bracing myself for disappointment, half-expecting to meeta few of the Elders at most. But nineteen pairs of glowing eyes were staring me down as I walked into the Hall of the Seeing.
“Welcome, Arken Asher,” a sweet, melodic voice called out from the center of the dais where all nineteen Elders sat before me.