“Do I dare ask?” A man’s deep voice spoke, stirring me to consciousness.
“No questions, you know that.” Warwick’s resonance thrummed through me, yanking me further from my peaceful slumber.
“You show up here after years... with her,” Gawel replied. “I know who she is, Farkas. She’s in every Leopold paper.” A pause. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You don’t understand,” Warwick rumbled. My lashes flicked open. I was still on the butcher table, but a cloth was now wrapped around my chest, covering me, my wounds stitched up. It wasn’t the injuries hurting as much as my head did. The grain alcohol pounded so hard through my veins I could hear it echo in my ears. I flinched at the pain, and the slight movement had every muscle screaming in protest. As much as I wanted to close my eyes again and disappear from the pain, his presence commanded me to stay with him.
The man was breathtaking, wearing only pants, his arm bandaged up now, his tan chest a blanket of tattoos, scars, and muscle.
Gawel scoffed. “You think you’re the first to get into a mess over some pussy.”
In a blink, Warwick slammed Gawel against the wall, his face only an inch from his, his hand knotting into the butcher’s apron.
“You say one more thing about her like that, and you will be the gutted pig.”
Gawel blinked.
“Jasna cholera.” Holy shit. Gawel muttered in Polish, staring at Warwick. It wasn’t fear which flickered over his expression but shock. “Are you in love with that girl?”
Warwick snarled but let him go, strolling away, his head shaking as if he was trying to shake off the claim.
“I’ve known you for centuries. The reason this place even exists is because of you. But not once in all that time have you ever let a woman close. No more than a steady fuck every once in a while.”
“Shut the fuck up, Gaw.” Warwick ran his hand over his head, squeezing the back of his neck.
“Warwick.” Gawel pushed off the wall. “What the fuck are you thinking? Her, of all people? The princess of HDF? She’s a fucking human! And one of them.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about.” Warwick snapped, his teeth showing. “She is not one of them. Just stay the fuck out of it.”
Gawel exhaled, tugging on his beard. “I knew you were a crazy son of a bitch, but I didn’t think you were masochistic.”
Warwick scowled at him.
“Yeah, actually I knew you were into that shit too, but fuck...” He started ambling for the door, his head wagging in disbelief. “You can stay for only one night.”
“It’s all we need.”
“You remember where everything is?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Gawel snipped with annoyance. “Just stay out of trouble down there and maybe keep a low profile. I don’t need this place being busted up because of the bounty on your head.”
“What’s it up to now?” Warwick smirked.
“Almost enough to turn your ass in myself,” Gawel spouted from the door, swinging around and stomping out.
“He doesn’t seem to care for you very much.” My voice cracked on a hoarse whisper.
Warwick turned to me. A slight twitch tugged up the side of his mouth. “He doesn’t like anyone.”
Pushing myself up, my body revolted at the idea. I grit my teeth in a groan.
“Go slow.” Warwick was right there, his palm cupping my neck and face, helping me up.
“I can’t believe I passed out. How embarrassing. You’d think my body would find getting shot to be old habit by now.”
Warwick’s other hand gripped my other cheek, centering me in a sitting position, his gaze meeting mine.
“I’m pissed your tally is one higher than mine now.” He moved in, his lips brushing mine, taunting me.
“I didn’t know this was a competition.”
“Everything...” he growled in my ear, “is a battle with us, Kovacs. Constantly challenging and pushing each other. But we both know I will always win.”
“Oh, really?” I lifted a brow.
He drew back; a smile of mischief hinted on his lips.
“Then I challenge you to get rid of this headache. Actually, all my aches.”
“Done and done.” He curled his hand around mine, helping me off the table. “Follow me.”
“Think I need some clothes.” I wobbled when I slid off the table, tucking the thin towel around me tighter, the fabric barely hitting my upper thighs.
“Don’t worry, where we’re going, no one will notice... and you might be overdressed.”
That didn’t ease my tension at all.
Chapter 16
Trailing after Warwick, we went through a storage closet with a false panel in the back, opening up to another room. We continued downstairs, through another secret door with a large troll-looking guard, and proceeded down more steps, which hurt like hell. The fact I was walking at all, I took as a plus.
We came to another small door, which almost blended in with the wall. Grabbing the knob, he turned to me. “Be prepared.”
I started to ask him why as he opened the door, flooding music, a strong ammonia-like smell, and voices at me, pummeling my senses. Shocked, my eyes gobbled up what was behind the hidden door—a world you could never imagine under a butcher shop.
At least a hundred people milled around, laying, dancing, and lounging throughout the space. My jaw stayed open as I stepped into the large, hazy room with him.
Through the puffs of smoke, I could see couches, lounges, and beds—the place a sea of different types, from a four-poster canopy bed to mattresses on the floor. Colorful fabrics draped the wooden furniture and walls. Dozens of low-burning lamps hung from the ceiling, giving it a dim, seductive glow. Sensual music came from speakers as men and women, fae and human, lay in various stages of undress, smoking on pipes, passed out, or fucking right out in the open.
“An opium den?” I blurted out. As ruthless and feral as this country was now, most drugs were still illegal. That’s why the black market did so well. Opium was one of those even the fae succumbed to. Producers of the drug were making it magic-laced now, adding to the high and, therefore, the addictiveness.
Opium dens were highly illegal, but hardly patrolled in the Savage Lands and even rarely controlled. Istvan would only act, sending out troops, when the elite in Leopold started to hear of things on the other side of the wall and get would righteous.
“Told you this place was only a butcher shop by day.” Warwick winked down at me.
“I heard him say you were the reason it even existed.” I peered back up at him.
He exhaled, his head bobbing. “I’ve known Gawel since my days of running this town. Let’s just say it was one of the numerous business ventures I got into during that time.”
“Is there anything you don’t control in some way?”
His expression lost all humor, his focus pinning me to the floor.
“You.”
The air in my lungs caught in my chest, feeling the power of his claim.
He turned to me, his enormous frame looming over mine, his fingers trailing over the top of my towel.
“The secondhand opium should help with the headache.” His hands grabbed my hips, flattening me against him. “The rest I’ll have to take care of myself.”
I already felt high, but it was all him. My drug of choice.
Taking my hand, he pulled me to an empty bed toward the back. The see-through silk drapery hanging off the teak bed didn’t give any us privacy.
I didn’t care.
Not only did no one around us care or even understand reality anymore, but Warwick and I were past decorum. We ate propriety for breakfast with our hands.
Hunger darkened his eyes, his fingers tugging at the towel, dropping it to the ground. Shivers ran over my skin as his regard went to my breasts, his tongue sliding over his lip. Bending over, his mouth covered my nipple, flicking and sucking.
My back arched, a moan shuddering through me. My nails raked up the back of his head while his tongue flicked at the other nipple.
“Warwick...” I breathed, his name a demand for more.
A noise vibrated in his chest, his grip tightening on my jaw while his entire body pressed into mine. His heavy erection was hot against my naked skin; he pushed against me as his mouth collided with mine with a growl.
The man could destroy me with just a kiss, marking me with more scars and leaving me crawling out of the ruins, seeking more.