𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Sixty-Four

The crashing sounds of the river were like bliss as the soft waves barreled against each other. Once more, we all stood on the bridge between the quarters of Velaris, each of us full from our meals. My elbows rested on the large railing as I just stared out at it.

Mor stood rubbing her stomach in circles, a look of contentment on her face as though she'd just come from heaven. Honestly, it wasn't far off.

The woman in red sighed with a mischievous smile, "I want to go dancing. I won't be able to fall asleep when I'm this full. Rita's is right up the street."

I raised my brows, turning to her fully. Dancing? Now? I was about ready to pass out from exhaustion. How she had so much energy, I had no idea.

I was even more confused as Azriel—Azriel, for Cauldron's sake—his eyes fully on Mor, said, "I'm in."

"Of course you are." Cassian groaned, rolling his eyes in defeat. "Don't you have to be off at dawn?"

Mor frowned as if she had just realized where Azriel would be going tomorrow and how much danger he'd be in. "We don't have to—" she began.

"I want to." Azriel replied. His gaze unblinking as he held her eyes—long enough that she looked down. Their relationship was confusing. He turned to Cassian, "Will you deign to join us, or do you have plans to ogle your muscles in the mirror?"

Cass snorted, waltzing to Mor with pep in his step as he looped their elbows. He began leading her up the street as he spoke again, "I'll go—for the drinks, you ass. No dancing."

"Thank the mother. You nearly shattered my foot the last time you tried." Mor chimed in. The scared gleam faded from her eyes. I had an inkling about what she feared.

I observed Azriel as he watched to two climb the steps up the street. His shadows curled around himself, whispering, shielding. I worried about the shadowsinger. I wondered what went on in his head behind those shadows.

He took a breath, the dark tendrils retreating from his shoulders as he straightened his back, stalking after Mor and Cassian.

If they were all going, then there was no sorry excuse I could use that would be even remotely believable. Though I had a feeling they'd be fine with me saying I wasn't in the mood, it felt rude to do on such a nice night.

I tried turning to Amren hopefully, only to find that shed pretty much vanished into thin air.

"She's getting more blood in the back to take home with her." Rhys whispered against my ear. It took all my self-control not to jump in surprise. Sneaky. His breathy chuckle was warm against my neck. "And then she'll be going right to her apartment to gorge herself."

I snorted as I turned to Rhys, barely a foot behind me.

I knew witches who drank blood, but they did so for pleasure purposes only. It wasn't a necessity. I wondered if it was the same for the tiny ancient one. "Why blood?" I questioned the High Lord.

"It doesn't seem polite to ask."

"Fair enough." I replied. I raised my brows at him. "Are you going dancing?"

He peered over my shoulder toward his friends. I watched as his lips absent mindedly tilted upward. "I'd rather walk home." Rhys finally said, his gaze going back to me. His eyes seemed to shine impossibly brighter at night. Like all the stars in the sky were answering, the ones I was sure glittered in his eyes. "It's been a long day."

Mor turned back at the top of the hill, raising a brow in question. Rhys silently shook his head in answer. The motion seemed to serve as all she needed before she turned away and began walking with the others once more.