by Raven Dark
Steel threw back his head. “Oh fuck, that’s some shit right there. Maker, Petal, you are priceless.”
As usual, I was not amused at contributing to Steel’s entertainment.
Sheriff wiped his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Old man Dice is named for his knife skills, sweetheart. Not those dice.”
“Oh I see. A homonym, then. I gave Steel a teasing smile.
Steel’s shuffle caused the cards to pinwheel across the table, a few landing in Crank’s face as he was attempting to take a sip from his beer.
“What the fuck, Steel?” Crank wiped spilt beer off of his cut.
“Sorry, man. Cards slipped.” Steel shrugged. I smirked.
“Anyway,” Sheriff went on, looking at me. “These are traditional Bluff currency, not used outside of the game.”
I nodded, understanding.
“Once Steel deals, you’ll look at your hand, and just like in Kranip, you’ll see if you can make runs. Just watch a couple of rounds. You’re smart, I know you watch everything anyway. I have no doubt you’ll pick it right up.” He winked at me.
I wanted to choke him.
Instead, I smiled and snuggled into Pretty Boy’s arms and watched Sheriff’s jaw clench.
This was a side of Sheriff I had never seen before. He was relaxed, cocky, and in his natural habitat with his men. If I weren’t so worried about what he might have seen this afternoon with Steel, let alone what he caught me watching the other day in his bath, I may have found him enjoyable to be around.
Steel dealt the cards, and Pretty Boy showed me his hand—four of a kind. Unfortunately, the expression on my face must have told the other players that Pretty Boy had a good run, and the game ended before it could begin.
A few more rounds of this, and I was left on my own. The betting I understood, and I observed the basic tells of the men around me. But, Maker, I wasn’t any good at the bluffing part. I had to rely on my skill with probabilities and luck rather than the pretense aspect of the game. Apparently, Sheriff thought the same.
“Sweetheart, there is no way that you are holding anything in that dainty hand that could be worth this pot,” he said during one game, nodding toward the center of the table where a vast majority of the dice gleamed in a pile.
Grunts and a few chuckles went around the table from the men. This hand was down to me and Sheriff. No matter how many times I’d watched him play either card game tonight, the General never gave himself away. Whether he was holding a run or a dummy card with zero value, it was a wasted effort trying to figure it out.
I looked at my measly hand and willed my face to hold no emotion. “We shall see, Master.” I looked him in the eye, my willpower holding strong.
Sheriff sighed and added his whole pile into the middle of the table. I heard Steel laugh and saw Pretty Boy’s shoulders shake, as he tried to contain his laughter. I refused to be intimidated.
Taking my paltry two dice, I met his bet and waited.
“Lay ‘em down, woman.”
“You first, sir.” I wouldn’t give in to his stare.
His lips twitched. Gaze never leaving mine, he unfurled his cards and flattened them on the table. A royal run. Nothing could beat that.
Taking my time, I gracefully laid out my cards. Not a single one was of value to another.
The room exploded in laughter, but I held Sheriff’s gaze nonetheless.
“Well, sweetheart, you’re the shittiest Bluff player I’ve ever encountered in my life. No one is that good at pretending to suck. Which means that you couldn’t lie to save your life,” he said, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh Petal,” Steel said, “I have to hand it to you, though, you—”
But he was cut off by Sheriff’s next words.
“What the fuck are the women wearing?”
I turned my head to look behind me. A few women entered the clubhouse, their collective cadris colors creating a rainbow of hues, filling the gritty room with liveliness. The colors and styles weren’t so ostentatious as to be gaudy, but they looked much better than plain frocks. I smiled.
“Oh, hell yeah! Pretty Boy, I guess I have you to thank for that,” Crank said with a grin from ear to ear. He was practically salivating at the vision of well-adorned bodies. I wondered which woman was his.
“Uh…you’re welcome?” Pretty Boy’s look of confusion almost made me feel guilty, but I couldn’t help a grateful smile. The women deserved to wear nice things. Sheriff’s expression, on the other hand, told me he knew who’d arranged for the women’s new clothing.
“I wonder what possessed you to buy our slaves clothing like your Princess, Pretty Boy,” Sheriff deadpanned, all the while looking at me.
A hand under the table suddenly clasped my thigh. Pretty Boy. I glanced at him with what I hoped was a look of innocence. He returned it with a slyly raised eyebrow.
Using the distraction of the women’s appearance in the room, I stood and walked over to Steel, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Master, may I have something to drink? Would you like another mug of beer?”
“Petal, the night is still young, you don’t even need to ask,” he said, rubbing his hand on the outside of my hip, and down along my thigh.
Thanking my master, I made my over to the bar and greeted Diamond who was pouring the drinks tonight.
“Well, Setora, you’ve made quite the impression on the house whores, and I for one am glad of it. They look real nice in those getups. How’d you manage that?” She pushed two mugs to me, both filled to the brim with frothy brew.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Diamond. I haven’t a hand in it.” I sipped my drink, avoiding her grin.
She laughed. “I see. I’ll be sure to spread that around. You know, that you are a vindictive Violet without a heart,” she winked and walked off.
I didn’t want anyone to know that I was responsible for the clothing. I did it for fairness’ sake, not for my own benefit. But if it helped the moral of the women and benefited my own moral during my daily chores, then I’d gladly not stop their suspicions. Even if they were correct.
Before I could turn around and head back to the card table, a solid, warm body pressed against me.
“Oh little spy, so clever, so smart. You got my Brothers wrapped around your little finger, and now you’re hoping to transform the club whores. Will you be starting a school for the uneducated, too? I know how well you can read.” His voice was a mocking whisper in my ear, like a tempting snake, hissing profanities.
I swallowed, my heart in my throat. But underneath my trepidation—little sense as it made—anticipation and need squirmed. I honestly didn’t know what Sheriff’s game was, but I had to admit that tonight, I enjoyed playing it.
“Do you remember my cock in you, little spy? In your wet mouth, in your hot pussy?”
Maker, his words were like flames licking me from the inside.
“Master, what do you want from me?” Bold, yes, but if he was going to punish me, by the Light, I wish he’d make up his mind and get it over with.
“I want you out of my head. That’s what I want.” His arm went around me then, and I tensed, but he just grabbed one of the mugs and walked off. He left me in such a state that I’d need four more mugs of beer to forget his words.
Chapter 14
Guests in the Grotto
“You’ll be wearing this today.” Pretty Boy set an especially gorgeous cadris on the bed for me when I woke in the morning three days later. Steel had apparently headed to the mines early.
I stepped out of the small water closet while drying my face and looked closer at the garment. A matching pants and top like all the others he’d bought, both were a deep, royal purple, offsetting my hair and eyes. I set the towel down and went to the bed, picking up the pants in wonder. The material was gloriously soft against my fingers. Thin gold chains dangled from the front and back of the pants, and more on the top.
“Wow, Master. What’s the occasion?” I grinned over my shoul
der at him.
“We’re having visitors today. Sheriff wants you to look your best.”
I’d turned back to admire the cadris but flicked my eyes back to his in surprise. “Visitors? To the Grotto? I didn’t know the Dark Legion let any outsiders come here at all.”
Especially not with the way Sheriff reacted to my being here that first day.
“We don’t normally. Enough questions, get dressed, Princess.” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder.
I finished washing my face, brushed my teeth, and combed out my hair, then slipped on the pants and top.
“Wait…Master?”
He’d been putting on his boots on the couch and looked up.
“Why is the back so much lower on these?” I looked over my shoulder into the mirror mounted on his wall. The back of the cadris pants dipped so low they barely hid my butt crack. Self-consciousness had me trying to tug them higher.
“Don’t do that, they’re supposed to hang low.” His grin made my heart flutter as he tugged them back into place, and then swatted my bottom.
“Why, though, Master?”
Amusement quirked his lips. He slipped on his cut. Then he brushed the small of my back with his fingers. “Because this is where the tattoo goes, Princess.”
Oh, Maker the tattoo. With his news about visitors, I’d forgotten all about that; today I was getting the mark of the Dark Legion put on me. Trepidation and excitement made for a strange mixture.
“I don’t want to get this thing dirty while I’m doing chores, Master.”
“You won’t. Sheriff wants you to do something for him today.”
“He does?”
He nodded and took my hand. “I’ll take you to him as soon as we eat.”
Nervousness ate at me. Except for fleeting moments at dinner or parties in the clubhouse, and sometimes in the halls headed one place or another, I’d rarely seen the General since that Bluff game. Whenever I’d seen him, he had always kept his distance. He watched me closely, like he was trying to figure me out, and I didn’t know if I liked the calculating look he kept giving me or not, but at least his eyes didn’t burn with hatred. Since Cherry had told me about him watching me teaching Steel to read, his manner had changed, but I couldn’t have said what that meant, or guessed how he might react to me when he saw me.
Swallowing, I followed Pretty Boy to the common room.
As usual, the small common room only had a few people in it this time of the morning. Two men sat at a table playing chess, and a couple more sat at the small bar that ran along one wall. Crash moved between the tables, setting down plates and drinks. Graceful like a big cat, he headed for the swinging door that led to the kitchen and nodded to us on his way through.
Pretty Boy led me to a table at the back. We ate quickly and drank our usual morning brew—Pretty Boy with a coffee, myself with a mug of tea with iris root. Then he kissed my hand and led me down the walkway that led toward Sheriff’s office.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Pretty Boy greeted him when we walked in and Sheriff stood up from his desk.
Something flickered in Sheriff’s eyes when he looked at me, but it was gone before I could place it. Then he nodded to Pretty Boy. “Thanks, Pretty Boy. You can go, I’ll take care of her from here.”
Suddenly nervous, I looked between the two of them, but Pretty Boy only gave a nod, squeezed my shoulder and left. Swallowing again, I turned my focus on the General.
“You wanted something from me, Master?”
“Yes.” Sheriff came around the side of his desk to me and leaned on the front of it, arms crossing over his wide chest. Those many rings on his fingers gleamed in the torchlight. “Sit down.”
Why did his voice sound so much less forceful than normal? There was an awkward bite to it I didn’t understand, too. The last time I’d been in here, he’d tricked me into reading something to him and then acted like it was proof I was a spy.
“Master, you aren’t angry at me for teaching Steel to read, are you? Cherry—"
“Sit down.” That time, it was almost soft.
I lowered myself onto the dark green leather couch against the opposite wall to the desk.
“We will be having visitors today. You will accompany me to greet them.”
I blinked slowly at him. “Me, Master? Forgive me, but why?”
“Steel is right, you do ask too many questions.” But when he looked at his feet, I thought I saw his mouth quirk. He lifted his head a moment later and his face was cool. “You’ll accompany me because I said so. The man is dangerous, so you will not speak, except to me when spoken to. Is that clear?”
Questions lit in my thoughts like firecrackers, going off too fast to keep up with. Who was the man? What made him dangerous? And why in Maker’s name would he want a slave with him during such an obviously important meeting? Only, I dared not ask any of the questions, and he wouldn’t have answered them anyway.
When I nodded, he crossed the room and put his fingers under my chin. “Pretty Boy dressed you well for the occasion. You look just the part.”
I crunched my brows in silent question. The part?
But he said nothing, only gestured for me to stand.
Gore rapped on the door and poked his head in. “General, they’re here.”
Sheriff nodded and gestured for me to follow him out of the office. Heart beating a little too fast, I walked out of the office, and he shut the door behind us. Then he slid his arm into mine.
Training that now seemed decades gone, instantly reasserted itself. I set my fingers on his powerful bicep, touching him just enough to indicate I was there for him, for his use, and fell into step with him, letting him set the pace.
How many times had I practiced this with Damien’s maids, always expecting the man I hung off of to be a powerful head of clan or zone in fine clothes? Countless, and it felt odd to feel and see smooth, tanned skin under my fingers, skin marked with gorgeous ink tattoos.
Tattoos like the one I would soon have.
My stomach tightened.
Halfway down the walk, two of Hawk’s guardsmen met up with us. Hawk brushed passed me and walked ahead of the General, protective, without a single glance for me. Hawk wore his twin swords on his back, and he was dressed in strange, tight-fitting red and black garbs, wrappings with dragon symbols on the chest and back. They made him look formal, and incredibly dangerous. Sadness at his obvious distance stabbed at my heart, especially when I remembered the hunger in his voice a few nights ago and his telling me he missed me.
Would I ever understand him?
But the time for worrying about Hawk, or any other matter, was over as we headed down a series of tunnels that delved on downward slopes and winding deep underground. The air quickly became cooler on my bare arms and back, and the many torches on the walls threw the tunnels into bright light. Large stalactites rose up out of the ground and stabbed down from the ceiling, and somewhere, water made a slow echoing drip.
At a river that ran like a snake between the stalagmites, we stopped and gathered at the rocky edge. Waiting, but for what?
Then I saw them. In the near distance, out of the half-darkness, a small boat drifted towards us. Four guards surrounded a large, frighteningly muscled man in leather not unlike the Dark Legion wore, but he was covered in tattoos of symbols I didn’t recognize, with distinctly foreign lines.
Panic welled fast in me as I pictured his cut revealing the symbol of one of the road warrior crews who worked for or knew Damien, including the ones who found me as a child.
Sheriff’s arm in mine tightened. “Relax, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I’ll take care of you.”
Unsure of that was protection in his voice, I licked my lips and watched the man’s entourage—bodyguards, by the way they stood around him and seemed to be taking in everything at once—step out onto the shore, then help someone who’d been sitting beside him onto the shore with them.
My eyes nearly fell out of my head.
The man looked every b
it as dangerous as Sheriff said, knives glinting in sheaths on his arms, in the sides of his boots, his arms covered in skulls and knives and spider emblems. With a head of dark curly hair that fell to his shoulders, and a pencil thin mustache above his upper lip, he was handsome in a scary sort of way, but he wasn’t what held my attention. The woman with him was impossible to look away from.
Draped in an almost see-through gossamer dress that fell to her feet exactly like the ones Damien often had me wear, she had the thickest hair I’d ever seen, falling down to the middle of her back. It was also the same faintly lavender hue as mine, only a little lighter. Her eyes gleamed like polished amethyst gems.
A Violet. No, with that hair, I was willing to bet she was a True Violet, like me. I barely avoided breathing the Maker’s name, watching her pick her way across the rocks to where we waited.
The sensation hit me so suddenly it almost knocked me off my feet. Her presence hummed across my skin, and her mind slammed into mine like a fist punched through my brain. I felt myself wince. I don’t know how I didn’t clutch my head.
The woman’s eyes locked with mine, and I swore I saw her finely shaped, pale brows raise infinitesimally toward her hairline. The haughty, unfriendly look she held faltered. Her face whitened a shade, just barely, but I saw it.
She felt me the way I had her.
“Hey.” Sheriff’s voice was close to my ear; obviously, he’d picked up on my distress. “What’s wrong?”
I realized why he’d asked that. I was gripping his arm in a death hold.
Shaking my head, I tried to remain stoic, looking unaffected by the woman’s presence, even while the awareness of her mind intensified the closer she came. Just like with the woman in the market—I thought I’d imagined her, or that at least that my sensing her presence had been a result of my fever. Now, I knew the fever wasn’t to blame.
Sheriff didn’t look reassured. He watched me a moment longer before his guests demanded his attention.
“Grizzle. Good to finally have you here.” Sheriff stepped forward and clasped the other man’s hand. There was a tattoo on the back of it, but he dropped his arm before I could get a look at it.
