The cursed siren song!
Clearly, its effects have not yet waned.
“Oi!Rhya!”
When Yara calls my name, I whirl toward her so fast I nearly snap my own neck. I could not be more grateful to see her flaming red hair and sly grin in the shadows.
I force a light tone. “You bellowed?”
“Bre and I are going down to the Kettle after this round.” She gestures toward the other Paexyrian. “It’s low tide. A perfect night for it. You should come with us.”
I’ve never been to the Kettle. I’m not entirely sure I even know what the Kettle is. But right now I am willing to overlook that fact if it means a change of scenery from the strange air in this bar.
“Sure,” I tell her thickly. “Count me in.”
“Arwen?” Yara leans forward to meet her flight leader’s eyes three stools down. “What about you?”
Arwen does not even break eye contact with Alaric. Their mouths are so close, they share each breath as she murmurs a suggestive, “We have other plans.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Yara snorts. Then, she raises her Titan gin into the air, a silent toast to the couple who are now sharing more than mere air, their lips fused together in a kiss so passionate it makes me avert my eyes and breathe deeply.
Looking away does nothing to soothe me. My bloodstream is still churning with untapped lust. Pulses of pure desire spike straight through my center, demanding release now, this instant.
I have to get out of here.
Soren is a silent shadow at my back. I steady both my shoulders and my voice before I glance up at him. In the fading twilight, his face is carefully blank, but his eyes are active as they scan back and forth across my features. I hope like hell he is not reading my emotions in this moment.
“What?” I ask under my breath. “Do you have some objection to me going?”
“Not at all. I just want to make sure you’re prepared for an evening at the Kettle.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle myself.”
One brow arches. “I’m sure you can, skylark.”
I do not care for the mocking note in his voice. My spine stiffens. “No one said you had to come. I do not require constant supervision.”
“And miss seeing your reaction to one of Hylios’s chief attractions?” He leans in a shade, stare never leaving mine. “Not a chance.”
Chapter
eighteen
The moment the Kettle comes into view, I understand how it got its nickname. The network of steaming hot springs in which dozens of people lounge does indeed resemble vats of boiling water on a hearth. Unlike the sulfuric pools at Blister Bight, these are free of fymandridae.
The Paexyrian’s group has expanded to include a duo of the new arrivals from Daggerpoint. We walk in pairs along the curving line of the exposed sandbar that leads beyond the city walls—a path that will disappear as soon as the tides wash back in.
It is a popular destination tonight. The main pool is especially crowded. By the time we come to a stop on the edge, the sun has nearly set; only the feeblest vestiges of orange remain streaking across the sky. Any minute, stars will begin to stir awake in the aether. Despite the swelling darkness, I pick out the shape of many piles of clothing peppered across the sand by our feet.
My eyes widen.
Everyone within the cluster of tidal pools is stark naked. Young and old, male and female. Bodies of all shapes and sizes. And they do not appear even slightly modest about their nudity. In fact, as my gaze meanders around the bubbling surface, I seeseveral pairs—and even trios—are taking full advantage of their unclothed state, touching one another in a way no amount of steam can disguise. Everywhere my eyes land, acts typically confined to the bedchamber are on full display. Teeth nibble their way down neck columns, hands slide over slick flesh, mouths meet with unabashed hunger.
The sight does nothing to ease the relentless ache stirring deep inside me. If anything, it only exacerbates the feelings I am so desperate to escape.
Oh, hell. This was a mistake.
I swallow down my startled gasp, but not quickly enough. Soren’s low chuckle from my right makes it clear he’s heard.