Alexios

  Year 45 - Mira Port

  Another kill, another gift. This time in the form of a royal purple robe. I wanted it the moment I saw it in the window of The Velvet Veil’s Tailoring. Too pricey for just any commoner and I’m too prideful to ask Marquis for it even though I bet he’d buy it for me if I simply asked. Besides, I’m not in the business of stealing. I might be a killer, but thieving is beneath me.

  The fabric feels… different on my skin. It’s smoother and far heavier than my usual clothing, even the deep green cloak I’ve come to rely on. I adjust the collar of the robe in the mirror, admiring how the intricate silver detailing along the sleeves almost matches the beautiful sliver of moonlight trickling in through the windows. With our arrival in Mira Port five years ago, I haven’t really bothered with this much effort. Marquis likes it that way. Always has.

  The rich purple is not something I’ve ever worn before Delaria. Hells, not even in the Underdark. It was forbidden for me to wear this in House Baenre. Solely reserved for matrons and others under Lolth’s authority, rich purples like this were never draped over a servant. The door opens before Marquis steps behind me just as one of his hands comes to rest softly at my waist.

  “This is an exquisite color on you,” he says. “A new… reward, I presume?”

  Our eyes meet in the reflection of the gilded mirror before I turn to face him. I watch as his gaze drifts down the length of my body, appreciative in a way he once hid from me.

  “Thought I’d try a different color,” I tell him casually. “The matrons never allowed this color to touch me in House Baenre. Never really considered wearing it before anyway.”

  “It is as if it has been made specifically with you in mind. The cut, the fit, the color… quite exceptional work.”

  I shrug lazily, but he’s right. I do look beautiful in this. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t think so. The color makes my eyes appear even sharper and it seems as if Marquis knows this as well since both of his hands are resting on my waist now, gently caressing just where the robe’s sash has been tightened to accentuate my figure.

  “Will you be away for the night?” he asks.

  “More than likely. It appears I’ve turned into quite the homebody these days. Figured I needed a night out.”

  One hand reaches up to smooth out the fold of the robe at my chest.

  “If anyone’s attention falls to you, I assume it will be rather difficult to look elsewhere.”

  I chuckle softly. It seems as if Marquis has become rather bold with me these days. Maybe Mira Port does that to people. Maybe he’s always wanted a life like this. Just the two of us, enjoying the scent of sea salt and silence of unassuming citizens. He lets one of his fingers drift along the edge of my sleeve, feeling the silver embroidery and maybe teasing himself with the shape of me underneath it.

  “You’re acting as if you don’t want me to go,” I say.

  “Would that be so terrible, Alexios?” he asks, blue eyes finding my mouth.

  I reach up to smooth the front of his collar, smirking when my fingertips graze over his throat.

  “Go,” he adds. “Before your friend wonders where you have gone. I would hate to keep you trapped here tonight. Besides, I will be with company tonight.”

  My eyebrows raise at his casual mention of “company”.

  “I see.”

  “I thought it only fair,” he answers. “It would seem rather lackluster of me to sit alone.”

  I nod slowly, not entirely certain I’m interested in staying out late after all.

  “Who is he?” I ask him curiously. Maybe a bit too curiously. “Or..”

  “She,” he corrects me. “A courtesan from the capital, Felcren City. Perhaps the two of you will meet someday.”

  The purple silk of my robe brushes against his hand once more, just as a smile slowly spreads across his face.

  “Oh,” I breathe. “Is this your way of trying something new?”

  “It is my way of adapting,” he replies. “Just as you once did and will likely do again, I assume.”

  Well, that’s certainly fair just as he said before. Still…

  My thumb trails lazily against his bottom lip.

  “Does that mean I shouldn’t come home early?” I ask him.

  “If you very well wish to do so, you may find me occupied.”

  I exhale deeply and let my hand drop back down to my side. This… company of his. It shouldn’t matter to me as much as it does.

  “Enjoy your night then,” I tell him before opening the door and stepping out into the warm humidity of the night.

  The purple robe moves just as I had hoped it, catching the attention of both men and women as I walk through the boardwalk. Sitting under the lanterns that gently sway overhead is Pyotr. He’s a rather unassuming, unthreatening human, but I’ve come to appreciate that about him. He doesn’t hover. Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t tempt me the way Marquis does. I can’t tell if I appreciate that part or not just yet.

  The same easy smile he wore five years ago greets me. He hasn’t changed much actually. Perhaps a bit broader in the shoulders and he wears his long, dark hair in a braid now, but he’s still the same man who sat beside me on this very bench five years ago.

  “Alexios,” he greets me warmly, brows raising at the sight of my robe. “Well, well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  He lets out a low whistle and I can’t help it. I turn around dramatically, letting him see how the silk captures the moonlight.

  “Always,” I say, laughing.

  He reaches for my hand and rises from the bench with fluidity. It’s comfortable, just as he’s always been. Slowly, we make our way to The Harbor’s Prawn, our usual tavern of choice that overlooks the harbor. My hand drifts over the wooden table, smoothed by years of salty air.

  “Five years of knowing you,” Pyotr begins as soon as we’re seated by the host. “And you still won’t tell me what you actually do for work. I mean… just look at this robe. No one here could ever afford that. Not on a fisherman’s salary, at least.”

  “I travel, remember?”

  “Ah, yes,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You and your unusually beautiful ‘companion’, Marquis. Mysterious as ever, Alexios.

  The carafe of wine arrives just in time. I reach for it first and pour a glass for him before filling my own. A habit between us now, I guess.

  “How is he doing anyway?” Pyotr adds after a few quiet moments. “Still acting as if he wants to throw me into the sea?”

  I scoff jokingly, raising the wine glass to my lips.

  “He wouldn’t…”

  “You don’t see how he glares at me,” he cuts in, chuckling softly. “Those sapphire eyes could cut through diamonds, Alexios.”

  “He’s just dramatic.”

  “Protective,” Pyotr corrects. “And you are far more dramatic than he is, Alexios.”

  I smirk, swirling the wine in my glass. Can’t argue with that, I suppose. Slowly, we make our way through the carafe as the conversation makes its way back to more casual events, with Pyotr updating me on the latest news of his attempt at starting a shipping partnership with a few fishermen Sigia, just south of Mira Port.

  Nights like this are easy with him. There’s no desire pulling either of us towards a bedroom. No seduction. Just us… two men sharing wine and dinner, slowly watching the waves down below. As the hour deepens and dinner stretches, the harbor grows quieter. Just as always, there’s no awkwardness or unfinished expectations when we finally stand to leave.

  “Walk with me a little?” he asks, holding his hand out for me to take.

  I nod and take his hand. Rather than stay on the docks, he leads me closer to the water so we can follow the soft curves of the shoreline instead.

  “So…” Pyotr begins. “Your pretty companion.”

  I growl playfully and kick a flurry of sand in his direction.

  “I’m just curious, is all!” He yells, raising his arms in mock innocence. “I’ve never been able to figure out what the two of you are to each other.”

  I glare at him, but there’s no real heat in it.

  “We…” I start hesitantly. “I’ve known him for a while so we’ve been many things to each other. I guess I don’t really know how to explain it.”

  “Is he your friend?”

  “Something like that,” I say, collapsing in the sand as Pyotr does the same.

  “Have you ever been enemies?”

  “That sounds closer to the truth.”

  “Lovers?”

  I shake my head. Pyotr throws a loose pebble into the water.

  “Apparently, he’s having company over tonight,” I admit. “Not a big deal.”

  “Seems like it is,” he says, brows raising ever so slightly.

  “It’s not,” I snap at him, perhaps a bit too hard.

  Pyotr glances at the robe and reaches out to run a finger over the silver threading on the sleeve.

  “Did he buy you this robe?” he asks quietly.

  “No,” I say truthfully, huffing out a gentle laugh.

  “You’re wearing it for him though,” he points out. “I don’t think you have to prove you’re desirable to him through fancy clothes.”

  “No, I’m not,” I counter, standing up from the sand and extending my hand to him. He takes it and rises back up to his feet. “And that’s not what this is about, Pyotr.”

  “Isn’t it though?”

  I scoff, shaking my head again as I kick one last bit of sand his way. He laughs and dusts the lingering sand still stuck to my robe.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “Just a bit of sand. Nothing to thank me for.”

  “No,” I say. “I mean… thank you for talking with me. I haven’t exactly had another person to talk to in the last forty-five years except Marquis and…”

  Her. When she finally decides to say a word to me, that is.

  Do you not find me good company, Alexios?

  My apologies, I tell her in my mind.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Pyotr answers as we make our way up to a narrower part of a pier.

  “Didn’t realize Mira Port had whores so openly available,” a voice calls out in our direction.

  We both turn abruptly to see two men standing near the corner of a fishery, clearly with nowhere better to be.

  “You charging by the hour, pretty elf?” the other one asks, pulling at his eyepatch.

  Pyotr nudges my side.

  “Let’s just keep walking,” he whispers, but I’ve already stopped, attention turned fully towards these bastards.

  “Not interested in the filthy types,” I say calmly, absolutely wanting to piss them off.

  Both of the men laugh.

  “Oh, believe me,” the one with the eyepatch scoffs. “We can tell. Out for a little romantic scroll then?”

  “Why don’t you both just go home, hmm?” I say, stepping in between Pyotr and the men.

  “Leave it, Alexios,” Pyotr murmurs behind me.

  “Or what, drow?” the other man calls out.

  Pyotr steps in front of me, raising his hands up to the men.

  “It’s alright! We’ll be on our way then.”

  He turns towards me again just as one of them steps forward and shoves him. I move before I can even think about it. The first punch that lands across the man’s face is a sharp crack of knuckles against his jaw.

  The man who shoved Pyotr steps in to take a swing now, but I drive my shoulder into him before he makes contact, slamming him roughly into the outer wall of the fishery.

  “Alexios, calm down!” Pyotr shouts out.

  Do not. Show them what you can do, my beauty.

  I meet the first attacker again with brutal hits. Blood spills fast and he collapses, but I’m there dragging him up by the collar to strike him again.

  “Alexios!”

  Ignore him, do you understand?

  I nod. Someone, Pyotr maybe, tries to pull me back, but I shake them off like they’re nothing but an afterthought only to realize the man who’s now pinned under me is no longer fighting back. I could end it. I could end his pathetic, fucking life right now.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I should.

  Do it, Alexios. Do it right here where the others can see. How bold you have grown.

  Another punch lands as a sickening crack sounds out. He’s barely conscious now. Only a few more hits, I tell myself. Just a few more.

  “Enough!”

  Guards swarm through with their lanterns raised high. My arms are seized from behind while Pyotr tries to catch his breath.

  “We didn’t fucking start it!” I try to tell the guards.

  “Drunken bastards,” a guard growls, binding both mine and Pyotr’s wrists.

  “Neither of us are…” Pyotr begins.

  “Save it!” another guard yells as they drag us away.

  Pyotr goes quiet and when I glance sideways at him, I realize he’s staring at me in shock, his eyes never leaving my bloody knuckles. Together, we’re marched back through the boardwalk and into the city jail while onlookers gossip behind their hands. We’re shoved roughly into a cell that smells of piss, iron door slamming shut behind us as we make our way inside. With my knuckles split open and dried blood streaking down my fingers and robe, I just… stand there with my wrists no longer bound.

  Pyotr sits down slowly, rubbing the back of his shoulder where he was shoved.

  “Why did you do that, Alexios?” he finally asks.

  “They fucking shoved you!”

  “Correct,” he says, nodding his head. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes… I did.”

  He scoffs and turns away from me.

  “So, you nearly kill one of them?”

  I lean back against stone, unable to defend myself to him, and close my eyes.

  “They touched you,” I mutter. “I don’t like when people touch what’s mine.”

  Faintly, I hear Pyotr huff out a weak laugh before standing and making his way over to one of the cots on the ground.

  “I’m not yours, Alexios.”

  I slap my palm against my forehead.

  “That’s not what I meant to say,” I correct myself quickly. “I’m sorry. Really… I am. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

  I slide down the wall, listening as the harbor wind drifts through a small crack in the wall.

  --

  With the adrenaline long gone from my system, the only things left now are soreness and bruising on my knuckles. Pyotr dozes off every now and then before some distant shouting from another inmate startles him. Surely it has to be near morning now, right?

  I straighten up as I hear footsteps ringing through the hallway. Familiar ones, at that.

  “They’re in here, sir,” a guard says respectfully.

  Marquis stands just beyond the iron door as the guard rattles his keys and opens it with a groan. His eyes move down my body, but this time instead of noticing how the robe accentuates my waist, he sees the dried blood laced through the silk and embroidered edges.

  “Come,” he says simply.

  Pyotr awakens from his rest, rising slowly to stand next to me.

  “What about Pyotr?” I ask, gesturing over to him. “I don’t want to leave him here.”

  “He has been freed as well,” Marquis answers without taking his eyes off of me. “We must go now, Alexios.”

  I step out of the cell, but Pyotr doesn’t move a single step.

  “Wait… really?”

  “I have taken care of the fines,” Marquis reveals. “The statements were amended and the men you fought were already being sought out out by the guards. It seems as if you may have done them a favor.”

  The guard coughs and waves for Pyotr to step forward. Finally, he does and the guard swiftly locks it behind us. Pyotr still looks surprised by Marquis’s rescue.

  “Do you think me so cruel that I would leave him in this cell?” Marquis questions me.

  “That’s… that’s very kind of you,” Pyotr tells him cautiously. “I appreciate it. Truly, I do.”

  Marquis bows in his direction politely, but I know him too well to know he is nothing short of furious right now, made obvious by the way his fists stay curled up by his sides.

  “I suggest you travel home now,” he says to Pyotr. “Alexios, come. We must talk.”

  Pyotr nods, quickly resting a hand on my shoulder before slipping past us to leave.

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  Marquis stays silent until we are outside of the city jail and away from any guards who could overhear us.

  “You nearly killed a man in public, Alexios.”

  “I know.”

  With more than exhaustion weighing on me right now, I don’t argue. Hells, there’s nothing for me to even argue about anyway so I take my punishment in the form of Marquis’s lecture.

  “Do you understand the consequences if you were to succeed?” he asks as we step quietly into a side street.

  I swallow sharply and nod.

  “We must not draw attention,” he says, stepping closer. “If that man had died in the presence of a witness, how long do you think it would take for the guards to start investigating other deaths and disappearances that have quietly been ignored?”

  “Marquis, I’m sorry…”

  “How long before the guards notice patterns?” he adds. “If we are to stay in this city’s graces, we must be careful. We must be discreet, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” I tell him, nodding slowly as we continue our walk home. “But they shoved him! In my opinion, the tacky bastard deserved it.”

  “You cannot lose control over petty matters,” he reminds me. “We came to Delaria to build a sustainable life for both of us.”

  How “noble”, my lovely guardian.

  He makes a good point, I tell her. Mira Port is small and quiet. Far more watchful than the previous cities we’ve inhabited.

  He is a bore. Though… it seems not entirely. Perhaps your mentor is more familiar with entertainment than you originally thought.

  A lover has left her signature.

  With the sun not yet risen, I’m not exactly sure where to look or what she means. His blood-red cloak is still immaculate as ever, falling gracefully down his body, and his hair still seems in place.

  His neck, my love. Look closer.

  Before we cross another narrow street, Marquis turns his head. Just below his jaw is a small smear of red. I step towards him, pretending to adjust my sleeve as we continue walking. Whoever this courtesan is… she left a smudge of lipstick behind.

  “Seems as if you had a busy night, hmm?” I mockingly ask. “Was she just as pleasant as you had hoped?”

  He stops and arches a brow. I lift one of my fingers and point towards his neck.

  “Does this truly trouble you?” he says pointedly. “We have other issues we must deal with right now.”

  “Guess not,” I reply. “Just didn’t realize you two were so… comfortable around each other already.”

  Marquis sighs, almost defensively, while his blue eyes begin to burn through me.

  “It is acceptable for you to stroll through different towns and beds as you please,” he begins. “But I am not permitted the same autonomy? You parade your nightly paramours in front of me in my own home, but I share a night with someone and you are unexpectantly…”

  “You and Phaedra separated five years ago,” I force myself to say. “And you’ve already moved on as if it meant nothing. As if you two haven’t been orbiting each other off and on for almost two thousand years.”

  “You believe I have moved on?” he asks, mournfully.

  “I believe it didn’t take you long to fill that space,” I shoot back quickly.

  “Phaedra is not replaceable,” Marquis tells me, stepping closer. “One night does not erase my centuries with her. I am allowed to seek comfort, just as you do.”

  I reach up before I can consider it further and rub away the lipstick mark with my thumb. What is there for me to say to that?

  Do I hate the idea of someone else touching him or do I hate the idea that he didn’t just… wait for the possibility of Phaedra returning? I can’t even tell if this is really about her or if it’s actually about me wanting to be the only one who gets to leave marks on him now.

  I step inside our home first, eyes falling immediately on the high elven woman standing near the window. Her blonde hair falls loosely over her shoulders, pale skin carrying that subtle afterglow I know far too well. With her soft lips and delicate features, she looks more like she stepped straight out of one of the paintings Marquis likes to gawk at in museums. I fucking hate it.

  I hate her.

  “You made it back safely,” she says warmly to Marquis. “Oh, this must be Alexios.”

  She bows her head in greeting. I don’t bother to return the gesture.

  “Wow,” I say cynically. “You’ve changed so much since I last saw you, Phaedra.”

  “I…” she starts to say.

  Marquis stops mid-step behind me, probably not expecting that to come from me so plainly.

  “This is Brienne,” he informs me. “You will address her as such.”

  “I don’t care.”

  It appears you do.

  I do…

  And I hate it. I hate the warm flush rising in her cheeks and I especially hate how pretty her name sounds when it comes from Marquis’s mouth. I look over her again. She’s barefoot and wearing one of Marquis’s silk robes. The one he never lets me touch.

  “You let her stay?” I ask flatly.

  “The hour grew late, Alexios.”

  Brienne’s eyes move between us.

  “I’d like her to leave,” I tell Marquis, much colder than I intended.

  “Alexios…”

  “I don’t want her here!” I cut in, pointing towards Brienne as I glare at him.

  “That’s quite alright, Marquis,” she speaks softly, keeping her dignity intact unlike myself. “Tonight has been lovely, but I don’t wish to overstep.”

  “Then leave,” I reply before I can even stop myself.

  Marquis sighs and nods gently to her.

  “Thank you for your company, Brienne ,” he says. “I will see you out once you have collected your belongings.”

  She nods softly, eyes moving between us, before retreating upstairs to retrieve her clothes.

  “Are there lipsticks stains on your cock too?” I ask cuttingly before stepping into the kitchen. He follows, occasionally checking to see if Brienne is still occupied upstairs and safely out of earshot. “I’m sure you’d like for me to wipe those off too.”

  “Why must you turn to vulgarity in these moments, Alexios?” he asks. “You want the right to be a stranger in other people’s homes, yet I am not given the same respect.”

  I step forward, just inches away from his face.

  “You brought her here to punish me!” I grit my teeth, pointing in the direction of Marquis’s bedroom.

  “Punish you?” Marquis asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alexios, she is here because she is allowed to be. Do I not have the right to enjoy companionship as you do?”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  His shoulders slump forward in what appears to be exhaustion. It’s an odd look on him, to be honest.

  “You have brought men and women home, no matter the city we occupied. Into whatever place we called home. You never once considered how that felt for me.”

  “What…?” My words are cut short by Brienne making her way back downstairs who’s now dressed in pale blue gown, blonde hair smoothed back, as she moves towards the door.

  “Thank you again for the company,” she tells Marquis. “It was lovely meeting you, Alexios.”

  I refuse to respond. Even from the kitchen, I can smell her suffocatingly floral perfume that was probably worn so it would linger on his pillow. It makes my stomach turn. As soon as the door closes, my anger turns right back on Marquis.

  “Why didn’t you say something then?!” I yell now that Brienne can’t overhear, jabbing my finger into his chest.

  “Were my feeling truly not apparent to you?” he asks, head shifting to the side as if he’s mocking me but maybe I’m just imagining it. “For decades, I have wanted you. I watched as you paraded strangers through my home as if I were nothing more than furniture.”

  He sighs sharply and runs a hand through his hair.

  “Come,” he says suddenly. “You still have dried blood on your hands. We will bathe and wash it away.”

  “No. You probably fucked her in the bath too, didn’t you?”

  “Come with me,” he says again, holding out his hand for me to take. “Perhaps a hot bath will calm you down as well.”

  “Perhaps you should have said something before then,” I reply coldly as I slap his hand away from me. “Do you really expect me to sit in the bath with you after you tell me I’ve been blind to your feelings for almost half a century?!”

  “You were grieving,” he shoots back quietly. “If I explained my feelings to you at the improper moment, you would have felt as if I wanted ownership of you.”

  “I already fucking thought that, Marquis!” I growl as my hand finds the nearest vase.

  I hurl it against the wall in anger, glass shattering instantly with a sharp crack on impact, before turning towards the door. “If you would have simply admitted that you ‘wanted me’, I would have stayed last night and you wouldn’t need her!”

  “Alexios, this is not the moment to storm out onto the streets again.”

  He follows me to the door and reaches for my wrist, but I pull free before his fingers can fully close around it.

  “This conversation is over,” I tell him. “Go back to your precious courtesan.”

  “Stay… please,” he mutters. “Let me tend to you. Let me clean the blood from your body and ease the rage that refuses to free you.”

  Despite my anger, I hesitate at the door. What would it be like to just… stop this and turn back around instead of run from him? Would he soothe the fury in my chest or…

  Would it make everything worse?

  No, I tell myself. It’s just another one of his cages, just as it always is. I step out into the streets again, hearing his exhale in frustration behind me. Perhaps he’s as furious at himself as much as he is at me.

  I’m tired of thinking. Tired of Marquis’s cages that he insists on calling “protection” and “mentoring”. Tired of us punishing one another with other people.

  I knock hastily on Pyotr’s door, but I’m not even sure if I expect him to answer. To my surprise, he does, answering quickly with his eyebrows raising as soon as he sees me standing there.

  “Alexios, what are you…”

  My lips are on his before I can talk myself out of it, stepping forward and grabbing the collar of his sleepshirt. He stumbles, hitting the wall as I press against him and slide one hand down his waist. As soon as the door swings shut, I kiss him harder. Pyotr gasps softly against my lips and I answer by swallowing it down.

  “Alexios… gods”

  His pale blond hair illuminated by the warm glow of the hearth… I mean… his dark hair tangles through my fingers. He loosens the clasp of that stupid, fucking red cloak before it collapses languidly to the floor. No… I mean…

  Fuck.

  I shake my head and press Pyotr more firmly against the wall. His mouth makes its way to my neck where my pulse fires rapidly against his lips. I gasp in anticipation of the sweet heat of the sharp fangs I so desperately crave right now.

  “Drink from me,” I groan out. “Press them into my neck, Ma...”

  Gods, help me.

  Pyotr pulls back, confusion apparent on his face.

  “What?”

  Oh, poor Alexios.

  I kiss him into silence as his fingers tighten in my robe. He may be entirely present, feeling every gasp and slow press of our bodies against each other…

  But I am not.

  --

  “Gods, Alexios…” he says breathlessly, one arm flung over his face while his other rests against his chest to steady his rapidly beating heart. “What in the hells was that?”

  I lie on my side, breath steady as I watch him with his eyes wide in disbelief. He props himself up on one elbow.

  “I knew you were intense,” he adds, running a hand down my sweat-soaked chest. “But that… gods… that was something else. You were relentless, Alexios.”

  He smirks and leans in to kiss me, satisfied in ways I can’t afford to be right now. My mind is too busy wondering if Marquis would have looked at me the same way afterwards.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, hand coming up to cradle the side of my head.

  I nod, taking his hand to carefully place a gentle kiss on the back of it. We collapse against his bed again, but as he stretches out beside me, pleased not only with himself but me too, I lie there staring at the ceiling.

  “If I called you dangerous, would you take it as a compliment?” Pyotr whispers, half-laughing.

  I shrug lazily.

  “I’ve been called much worse,” I say, turning my head towards him. “Will you join me again tonight?”

  He arches a brow curiously as he bites at his bottom lip.

  “Sounds like something Marquis would hate,” he reminds me.

  Exactly, I say to myself.

  “There’s a pier past the main harbor,” I reveal to him as I reach for my robe. “Private stretch of land. No one goes there at night as far as I know. Besides, I’m not too interested in going home tonight anyway.”

  Pyotr chuckles softly.

  “Alright then,” he agrees after a few quiet moments, fingers coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “As long as we can grab a glass or two of wine afterwards.”

  I nod, telling myself this is enough for right now. It seems as if I don’t need Marquis’s desire after all.

  --

  Just beyond the gentle lanterns of the harbor, we find solitude on the empty pier. It’s clear no one has walked this stretch in quite some time, if I had to assume.

  “You… are incredible,” Pyotr whispers in my ear, hands warm at my waist. “I didn’t expect you to be like this.”

  My lips find his neck, kissing along his jaw slowly.

  “Let me taste your blood,” I reply without thinking. “Just a little, hmm?”

  He gasps and pulls away sharply, feet stumbling as he takes a step back.

  “I… I knew it,” he mutters under his breath. “I knew something was off about you and Marquis. You’re too… strange.”

  “Strange?” I repeat, stepping into his space to slide my hands up his chest.

  “You’re vampires, aren’t you?!” he blurts out.

  Well… I’m not, at least.

  “If I were a vampire,” I begin, hands raising in surrender. “I would burn in the sun, wouldn’t I?”

  “You asked to drink my blood, Alexios.”

  I sigh.

  “I’m not a vampire, Pyotr,” I reassure him. “I’m just… into different things, I suppose.”

  He narrows his eyes at me, tension stretching far longer than I want it to.

  “I don’t have fangs, see?” I add, smiling to show him my teeth.

  “So… this is just a kink of yours?” he questions me carefully.

  I shrug lazily.

  “You could call it that.”

  Pyotr steps closer, his hands returning hesitantly to my waist.

  “Still,” he whispers. “You and Marquis are a bit strange.”

  Smirking, I reach for the small dagger resting in the inner pocket of my robe.

  “Hold out your hand for me?”

  The dagger rests lightly over his palm before I drag it slowly against the skin. He flinches.

  “Fuck! Gods, that little thing is sharp.”

  As soon as a line of deep red appears, I bring his hand up to my mouth, tongue gently caressing the cut to taste the sweet and copper taste of his blood.

  How delicious, my sweet. I would have assumed it would be duller, just as he is.

  Pyotr tenses again as I drag my tongue against the small cut again before swallowing it down.

  “Alexios…”

  “It’s alright,” I tell him against the skin of his palm.

  I lap up a little more, until I feel the queen’s satisfaction settle in my thoughts. Pyotr lets out a soft whimper as his other hand glides through my hair.

  “That’s…” he breathes out.

  When I look up with a tiny trail of blood staining my lips, his eyes are half-lidded, head thrown back in pleasure. I lean in again, lips warm and wet against the small wound. After a moment longer, I pull back and hear him laugh in excitement.

  “It seems as if I’m more adventurous than either of us probably thought, huh?”

  A soft laugh finds us both and I hold out my hand to him.

  “Want to get closer to the water?” I ask him, innocently enough not to raise any further suspicion.

  Pyotr looks out at the dark waves loudly slapping against the rocks and old wood.

  “Seems dangerous, doesn’t it?”

  “I think you like danger more than you think you do,” I tempt, moving him towards the edge with me.

  The old wooden boards groan softly under our boots, water lapping restlessly as Pyotr’s lips find me again. Step by step, we move backward together as if tangled in some kind of slow dance. He’s bolder now, it seems. One of his hands grips the sleeve of my robe when his heel knocks too closely to the edge.

  Oh?

  What a lovely idea.

  My palms press against his chest in one sharp shove to unbalance us both. His foot slips on the damp wood of the pier as we go over the edge together, cold water stealing the air from our lungs instantly as he thrashes wildly against the waves.

  “Alexios, what in the hells…”

  I push him down hard under the surface by his shoulders, his eyes going wide as confusion takes over. He fights back, jabbing me in the ribs as he continues to flail so I tighten my grip and force him down deeper.

  Hold him, Alexios.

  Pyotr shakes violently, bubbles erupting from his mouth, while the life and that fatal trust in me fade from his eyes. His fingers slip from my robe, no longer able to struggle against me. His body drifts through the waves when I finally release him.

  The pier creaks when I drag myself back onto it. My lungs feel as if they’re on fire. I sit there on the edge, staring at the black water feeling the queen’s satisfaction.

  very small detail in an older chapter of because of a part I included in this chapter?