Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

mild red ambience of Cerise deciding to show her face. Enough that he’ll see my silhouette. And just enough that not a soul will see anything more. Not a soul except the hooded figure creeping at the end of the alley. I’ll let her watch.

A moment passes, and the door swings open. Out steps the stocky, balding slave trader in his dull-brown, snug-fitting evening attire. A sloppy mess of a man. He stumbles, and ale cascades over the brim of his tumbler. I give a subtle whistle. He looks in the opposite direction, then turns to look down the dark alley. It takes him a moment, but he spots me.

I drape my arm around him as he approaches and lock a leg around his thigh, pulling him in tight. He’s not worth fucking. The next one maybe. I swipe my kukri from my boot and shove it upward through his neck, into his brain. I snatch the tumbler from his grip and let him fall to the ground. I finish its contents and smash it on the ground beside him. Drunken fool.

I don’t bother wiping up the evidence just yet. I stare into the darkness of the alley and press my finger to my lips, “Shh.” I fluff my bangs to ensure they obscure my telling eye, then, after cleaning and concealing my blade, I return through the back door of The Jack Rose.

Jack sees me return and forces his sight on the tumblers he’s washing. He’s repulsed, but a part of him approves of what I do, so he turns his cheek. And he doesn’t speak a word of it for he knows it will dampen his establishment’s reputation. Instead, men come and go. Men who dwell in the cracks often disappear, so it is nothing to raise an alarm.

Another man, more up in his spirits, sits at a table of three, including himself. Natan Croft. This one doesn’t feel the guilt of who he’s become. Not a slave trader, but a customer. He’s known to make special requests for youth and pays top-shelf prices. Top-shelf prices he cannot afford with his peasant wage. If I don’t empty his pockets and remove his temptations, another will. Unfortunately, there will be bystander casualties with this one. Or not unfortunate. They will likely partake in the game, proving their damnable desires. Every man is capable. Every human.

I pull out the wooden chair at their table and take a seat. Intentionally displaying a devious amount of upper thigh as I swing my leg over the chair. Thankfully the first was a clean kill, leaving my dress and powder unscathed and unstained. It gets tricky when they make it messy, which is also why I leave the cleanup for last.

My mark smiles. “And how can I help you?” he implies the worst.

Being a working man, he is more attractive than the last. He has a hard smile, strong hands, and a muscular build. And judging by his stature, he is a head taller than me. This one will be more pleasurable.

“I’m looking for a man,” I reply. This one, however, may take a bit more work to seduce. The lower the spirit, the easier the target, and his spirit isn’t low. His arrogance has subjected him to believing he has a choice in the women he peruses. He has no choice. He will follow what his cock desires.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type. Maybe one of these gentlemen can fulfill your desires?” He gestures to the men in his company. Both show interest with degrading grins.

I look them up and down and turn back to Natan, returning a degrading gesture to the men. “They can watch.” I casually caress his bicep. It’s solid. A genuine seductive smile forms on my lips. “I need a man’s touch.”

“Like I said, you’re not my type.”

“I’m not one of them.” I gesture toward the wenches in the dark corner. “I just need to feel like a woman right now.” His glare narrows. He’s intelligent but not disciplined. And he’s over-confident. He understands there’s a catch, but confident he’ll overcome it. Arrogant, gluttonous, disgusting man. It’s a shame for such a desirable physique.

“Very well. If you’re so eager to be—” I quickly cover his lips with my fingers to shush whatever arrogance was about to piss me off.

“Shh. I have a reputation to uphold.” I lean in and whisper. “Give me a moment. Meet me out back shortly. And bring your companions. I want spectators.” I grab his package with a firm grip and strut away. Yes, he’ll do.

I step into the alley. The drunken slob remains plastered on the ground. The newcomers will think him a slumbering inebriate. The cloaked figure also remains in the corner of the alley. I’m somewhat surprised she stayed put after being called out. It shows determination and strength to hold to her mission, whatever it is. But she is also stupid to take on such a task without directive. Her stealth is lacking and needs to improve. Had she managed to spy on me without notice, I would have discovered her secrets eventually and praised her for her improvement. Tonight, however, she will suffer the consequences.

I plant against the wall of the alley, not quite as far down as my previous kill, and along the opposite wall. I don’t want the men getting too close to him.

Natan struts from the back entrance soon enough. His two comrades in tow. He spots me much quicker than the last and strides down the alley in my direction. The path to death, the ever-shadow so many unknowingly meander toward.

He approaches without conversation. I’m even more impressed. Words are often just noise. He places a hand on my waist and another against the wall above my shoulder, ensnaring me in his arrogance. I enjoy it for the moment.

His men stand several paces off, casually