Vassal Sterling D'Este (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📖

Tristan grinned crookedly down into the smiling face of the slight woman, her eyes flashing gold beneath her lashes. She held out her dainty hand, clearly assuming a kiss, or perhaps a bow.

“Hello.” It wasn’t much of an introduction, but the rogue found that he didn’t mind. He bent low at the waist, taking her hand in an exaggerated fashion.

“My lady,” he purred. “Just who might you be? And you should introduce me to your companion too, of course. I wouldn’t want anyone to be left out.”

“She is boring, albeit good to look at. I am Enyo.” The girl was glowing, her hand left in his and her eyes roving his form. “I … know you, don’t I?”

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at the girl, ignoring the sudden flip of his stomach. “Enyo, Enyo…” he muttered as if considering where he had heard the name before. “Now I think I’d remember it if I’d met a girl with the name of a Goddess.”

He led her over to a table tucked in the corner, his hand completely swallowing hers. He hadn’t known quite what to expect, but he certainly hadn’t thought she would be so… so delicate.

Tristan slipped into one side and gestured to the other for the ladies, only to have Enyo gracefully slide into his lap.

The other one certainly didn’t like that. Every line of her angled face went cold as Brig’ian stone.

“Well, you’re a forward lass, aren’t you?” Tristan laughed, signaling for drinks from one of the scantily clad servers. He sat back as they brought it, one hand around a mug and the other comfortably resting on Enyo’s waist.

“Now I may not have ever met an Enyo,” he said companionably, “but I have been looking for one. You wouldn’t be headed for Thlonandras, would you?”

❂

Enyo was peering into the cup and wrinkling her delicate nose when the sound of her beloved temple caught her ear. She turned her head back to stare into the man’s eyes and smiled broadly. “How is it that such a tricky man knows where it is I wish to go? Are you going to take me there, handsome Mandi?” she purred, one hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the heart beating there. Pumping blood. Thick, slick blood.

Her fingers contracted ever so slightly.

Could this human body manage to pluck his heart out?

How long had it been since she felt flesh squelching between her teeth? The threads tearing as she bit through it? How long had it been since she had the invigorating infusion of raw magic shoved through her veins, the type that could only come from sacrifice and tribute?

Too long.

Her mouth was actually watering, her focus snagging on his throat. This body was so weak, ill-suited to all her glory. She needed power. She needed more magic to sustain herself. She needed him.

The man’s grin broadened even as Enyo’s gaze locked onto his neck. “My master has sent me to do just that,” he said cheerfully. “I was to find Enyo and aid her and her companions on just such a quest.”

Enyo paused at those words, surprised enough to stop contemplating his beating heart for a moment.

“And who, Mandi, is your master?” Even more surprisingly, Enyo glanced at Delyth, brows arching. Was this man yet another disciple of the faith?  She smirked at Delyth’s icy expression and let her hand start to drift lower, across the man’s belly… down, down, down.

༄

Delyth could not remember the last time she felt so on-edge. The gambling den was too loud, too crowded. Every person that passed by could be a threat. A few of them even looked like they wanted to be. She checked the exits, checked them again. Would she be able to draw Calamity quickly enough to stop any attackers? Would her knife be faster? Perhaps the best option would be to use the space around her. There were bar stools and bottles enough for brawling.

It was a messy way to fight, but she had height on most every man here, not to mention the benefit of truly excellent training.

One of the men sitting near the door stood, and Delyth shifted in her seat, torn between the people around them and, worse, the man Enyo had lasciviously attached herself to. He allowed her to sit on his lap, his hand on her— Alphonse’s body. He let her trace her hands down his chest, her eyes maliciously turned towards Delyth.

The priestess was tensed to spring from her seat when the man surprised her by stopping Enyo. He lifted the same hand that Delyth had fallen asleep holding the night before to nibble at the fingertips.

Gods, she wanted to kill him.

But he’d stopped Enyo from going further.

“Let’s just say that he’s an old friend of yours,” the man told Enyo, his smile loose and easy beneath blue eyes.

Was he being purposefully vague? Delyth ground her teeth in frustration. How in any fucking hell was it possible that he actually knew who Enyo was or where they were heading? How had he known where to find them?

And why did it have to be in this thrice-cursed cesspit?

⚄

“That’s believable. I had many friends,” Enyo purred, eyes on the man’s mouth. She leaned closer, inhaling as if he were some intoxicating aroma. “And if I allow you to join us, Mandi, what will you give in return? What value do you hold?”

Tristan’s smile turned into a playful frown, his brows pulled together in overt melancholy. “What, you mean my pretty face isn’t enough to satisfy you?”

He laughed, the sound hearty and warm. Enyo was more exciting than he had imagined, the press of her warm body and the mix of lust and command in her tone equally alluring. How important was it, really, that he impress her companion as well?

The warrior woman was tense and blank-faced, her stare unnervingly fixated on him. Tristan turned his eyes back to the Goddess. He didn’t think he’d take a chance on indulging