A Cursed Hunt (The Wings & Witches Series Book 1), page 20
Yanking herself out of his reach, Meira began through the crowd again, her determination renewed.
Find the witch. Remember.
The crowd was growing larger as the band played. People flowed out of the shops and businesses and into the village square to dance around the fountain. Music, conversation, the swish of liquid in glasses, the stomping of feet all mingled with the scent of food, sweat, and body odor until Meira’s skin began to crawl. Her shoulders were slowly rising to her ears and she had to fist her hands at her sides to keep from shoving her palms over her ears.
“Follow.” Meira managed to say, darting into the nearest building. Remis’ steps were quick and light behind her, keeping close as she weaved between tables and headed straight for the darkest corner of the room. Several patrons looked up from their drinks to watch as the scale rider darted across the tavern.
Shadows were a welcome reprieve as she dropped down into a wooden chair that groaned and wobbled at her weight. She pulled her hood up over her face breathing through the rush of overstimulation that threatened to drag her down.
Remis stood next to the table before Meira examining the stains on the wood with his hands planted on his hips. He frowned, looked over his shoulder, then pulled the chair out next to her and lowered onto it. “Interesting. I didn’t foresee you gutting me in a shitty little tavern in the middle of nowhere.”
The table to their left held a candle, nearly burnt to nothing, but its glow was just enough to outline Remis’ strong form. He leaned back in his seat, grimacing as it squealed at the motion. Dim light haloed his broad shoulders and Meira found her eyes lingering on the swell of his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m looking for someone,” Meira finally admitted. A tiny sliver of truth that lifted a fraction of the weight that sat on her chest. The relief was so pleasant that she considered for a moment telling him everything. She pressed her lips together, looking out across the room.
“And this person is in this musty tavern? Or…”
Young, smiling, and with her blonde hair pulled up high on her head, a woman approached their table. Her attention drifted between them but lingered longer on Remis. “Interested in a drink?”
Remis only watched Meira, never looking up at the woman though she had directed her question at him. His attention burned against Meira’s cheeks. She chose to ignore the sensation, certain the darkness would hide what coloring was born of the notion. The chair shifted, a threat of its possible collapse, while she leaned forward and set her folded hands on the table.
“I’m looking for someone,” she repeated to the girl, staring up through her lashes.
Only then did the young woman turn toward Meira. The woman’s shoulders hunched at the sight of her, recognition of a scale rider or possibly just the loss of a nice tip from a man who looked as though he came from money despite his crumpled and slightly bloodied clothes. “Then you’ll be needing Kindred.” She turned on her heel and headed straight for the counter where another woman tended.
Meira looked to Remis, those eyes still locked on hers. She sighed, dramatically. “What?”
“You’re a mystery to be solved, Wolf.”
A mystery she didn’t want him to figure out.
“Wolf?” She arched a brow.
“You call me rabbit. I’ll call you wolf.”
Meira held his gaze, refused to look away, to back down from this man who was just as much a mystery to her, though she’d never tell him that. When she’d sat forward, she’d meant to grab their server’s attention and to appear confident, bordering on powerful; what she hadn’t meant to do was put herself that much closer to Remis. Her heartbeat ticked upward, feeling more and more like the flap of a hummingbird's wings inside her chest. Then her gaze inadvertently slipped down to his full lips. She knew he’d caught her in the act as a cocky smile broke out across his face.
“What are you in the market for?” A weathered voice broke the thrall Meira had felt herself go under. She straightened and looked away from Remis, willing the dark tempting idea of kissing him to go away. Frizzy gray hair framed the face of the woman who’d tended the bar and was now standing in their corner, a rag tossed over her shoulder, and a scowl worsening the wrinkles on her face, while the younger woman stood only a foot behind her.
“What does it cost for you to keep a secret? I don’t want my inquiries getting far.” Meira did her best to sound bored.
“Cost you nothing but the truth,” Kindred answered, looking back at the other woman. “Stauci, get these two drinks on the house.” Then she dragged another chair over from the nearest table and sat herself across from Meira. This woman hadn't so much as given Remis a sliver of her attention. She must recognize Meira as her prime customer now. “I make my living off of things best kept secret from the wrong set of ears. Whatever or whoever you’re seeking is a conversation that stays at this table.”
The younger woman, Stauci, was already back, two wine glasses in hand, eyes wide. She set them down on the table then scurried away toward the bar.
“Drink.” The woman gestured to the wine before pulling the towel from her shoulder and laying it across her lap. “This is from one of our finest bottles, brought out for an occasion such as this. You’ve picked an odd time to come visit our little town, yet with the influx of visitors for the holiday, I doubt you’ll be easily noticed.” Her eyes narrowed. “The uniform won’t help you go unnoticed though.”
Remis had already picked up his glass and was swirling the contents around. He brought the drink to his nose and sniffed delicately before smiling and taking a drink. Compared to Remis, Meira felt entirely out of place drinking something that was likely so expensive. She didn’t spin the wine around or breathe it in at all before taking a massive gulp.
“I’m not afraid to be known as a scale rider.” The wine hit her belly and made her delightfully warm. She took another swallow. “There are rumors of this village, you know.”
The woman smiled. “Those are the rumors that keep my particular set of clientele coming here in the first place, but why would a scale rider be interested in those rumors?”
Because I’m more than a scale rider. I’m a witch, Meira thought, nearly letting the words spill right out of her. They were there at the tip of her tongue wanting to be said. She pressed her lips together, holding them back. She’d need a little more liquid courage to get her through this. She gripped the stem of the glass so hard, she thought she might break it but swallowed the last of its contents back.
“You’re supposed to savor it,” Remis said quietly, taking another baby taste. His glass was already halfway to empty anyway.
“I’m looking for a witch.” She ignored Remis and the desire to smack his pretentious attitude right out of his body.
“And what happens if you find this witch? Scale riders don’t typically like witches if I recall correctly. Don’t they often hunt them?” The woman drummed her fingers on the table, still smiling as she looked between her and Remis.
“Yes,” Meira answered, surprised by how quickly the answer had come tumbling out of her. Scale riders had joined forces with Emperor Grandith all those years ago out of desperation to relieve what was once the Titerian Kingdom of its power. Now they served under his son who continued the man’s legacy and encouraged the hunting and killing of witches. They hadn’t ever been assigned to a mission to find or kill one, at least not as far as Meira could remember, but there was gossip of scale riders stumbling upon covens or witches hidden within cities and brutally murdering them. Amongst the riders, it was bragging rights. Hearing that had always made her sick.
“Mayb—” The word got stuck in her throat. “May—” Air was snatched from her lungs as she tried to force the lie out. She’d only wanted to seem as though she held some of the power here, to act as though she was more than the scared little witch that fled from her village all those years ago. But her ‘maybe’ wouldn’t come out.
Remis patted her on the back. “Are you okay?”
Meira gripped the table so hard the wood groaned. “What did you do?” she snapped.
The woman leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other watching Meira with a flicker of delight. “I told you it would cost you the truth. Don’t worry the serum will wear off in about ten hours or so.”
24
Remis
His glass, practically empty at this point, would not be touched again. The drink was heavy and warm in his stomach sending a fuzzy sensation through his veins. The back of his throat stung as though he’d swallowed a bee and his tongue suddenly felt like sandpaper.
Truth serum. A witch’s concoction and he’d drunk it down thinking it was some well-aged wine. Horror struck him first when the woman who sat with them had said it. His witch’s face reflected much the same. Her lowered brows and twisted frown gave way to the sheen of fear in her eyes and her full lips parted on a trembling breath.
Her full beautiful lips. The bottom half of her mouth was so rounded all he could think about was taking a bite.
The serum had addled his brain. Great.
Remis had been taught for as long as he could remember that witches, while mostly myth and fable at this point, were horrible monstrous beings. Aside from the promise of death that came with his wolf, he’d only seen so far how humans were the true monsters, but questioning the truth of the world and being secretly fed a serum that would not allow him to lie was quite a different thing.
“Let’s start this again, shall we? My name is Kindred. What is your name?” Kindred motioned toward him.
His name was an easy answer to give but the words still felt as if she’d pulled them out of him with the quick yank of an invisible string. “Nikremis Archibald Lexmore. My friends just call me Remis.”
Kindred smiled and lines appeared across her cheeks and around her sparkling gray eyes. “Remis. And you?” Another sweep of her hand toward his captor.
He leaned forward as eager to hear her answers as Kindred. Wolf, as he’d taken to calling her, spoke little of herself and her intentions to drag him along on whatever fate they’d found themselves intertwined in. This was his chance for answers, to maybe understand her and the role he was meant to play. The widening of her eyes was telling that she’d also come to this same realization.
“Meira Eve Spektor.” She gave Remis a sideways glance. “Just Meira.”
Meira. Eve. Spektor.
Meira.
He repeated the name over and over in his head and found himself wanting to try it out on his lips. To taste it in the way his mind kept wanting to taste her. A lovely name, one that suited the beautiful, strong, and wicked woman next to him.
“Do you intend to harm the witch or anyone in this town?” Kindred asked.
Meira sighed, leaned back in her seat, and said, “No.”
Kindred looked to him and much to his surprise words he’d hardly even recognized as his own were spilling out. “There is one particular asshole who was rude to Meira that I’ve considered teaching a few manners with my fist.”
He wasn’t sure how it was possible but Meira’s wide eyes widened a fraction more until all the white was visible around her pretty green irises. Though saying her name felt like he’d somehow earned a high honor, he had to hold himself back from slapping a hand across his mouth. Getting the truth from Meira might be enticing, but being forced to speak only in truths might become his next nightmare.
A chuckle left Kindred. The woman nodded along, amusement playing over her weathered features. “There are several in this town that I’ve thought about doing that exact same thing to. If you want to keep hidden while you’re here though I’d refrain. Terrible men with horrid opinions often have terrible friends who’ll fight tooth and nail for their honor.”
Of course, Remis wasn’t really going to punch the stranger. He didn’t even realize that he’d truly contemplated the idea until it had been forced out of him. With his healing shoulder and body weary from all the travel he was in no condition to be fighting. Fuck, his nose was still bruised and slightly swollen.
“What do you need the witch for?” the old woman pushed.
Meira’s face scrunched in as if she’d rather keep the words to herself. Her cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson before she gasped for air. “I need help recovering my memories and—” She bared her teeth. “And I need to learn about the huntress curse.”
She’d lost her memories? She didn’t know about the huntress curse? Perhaps it was more alarming not to just be in the presence of a witch but to be with one who was incompetent. If she didn’t know what and how this curse worked…well that might explain why he wasn’t dead yet.
Instantly, Kindred’s attention shifted to Meira’s gloved hands and then to Remis’ hastily wrapped one. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “I can arrange that. However, tonight is a night for lovers and celebrations as we honor the holiday so you will have to wait until tomorrow.” Kindred offered a sad smile. “For the time being, I suggest you stay and maybe get to know each other better. If you need a place to stay, the stairwell beside the bar will take you upstairs where there are two available rooms. It’ll cost you but they’re the best you’ll be getting on a night like tonight.”
“Will they cost coin or some other form of currency?” Meira’s mouth ticked down.
“Coin only this time.” Kindred winked. “I’ll have Stauci bring you over some dinner too.” With that, she rose from the table, returned her chair to its rightful position, and headed back behind the counter.
The room was filled with the chatter of other patrons and the clinking of glasses. Occasionally, laughter would rise and fall like a crashing wave. Still, all of it felt distant from the little corner where he sat with Meira. She stared down at her hands.
This was his chance to ask her everything he’d tried to before and he’d get more than just placating answers; he’d get the truth. Perhaps Kindred was in the market of performing miracles. He mulled his questions over in his head while he sat without speaking for several long minutes. He’d have to be the one to break the silence. He doubted she’d be keen to start spilling all her secrets.
“Meira Eve Spektor was it?” He tapped a finger against the table. She watched the movement. “Does it even out the playing field now that I know what to call you?”
“Not at all, Nikremis Archibald Lexmore.” She snorted. “What a terrible middle name.”
His hand went straight to his heart as though she’d stabbed him in the chest with the words. “It’s a family name.”
One slender brow of hers lifted ever so slightly. She was beautifully cast in the soft glow of the lone dying candle at their back. And he so badly wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was. He could feel the way the serum was lulling him into a sense of safety as though he could say anything now and there would be no consequence to it at all, but there would be consequences and some things were better left unsaid if he could manage it.
Meira leaned back in her seat. “It’s probably better if we don’t talk.”
“So you don’t have to tell me the truth?”
She nodded.
“That is unfortunate,” he whispered, holding her evergreen stare. “I have so many questions.”
“You talk too much,” she snapped back, stiffening ever so slightly as though she didn’t mean to say that, but she didn’t apologize, only held his gaze with her chin held high.
“And what else do you think about me, Meira?”
A crease formed between her brows. “Quit saying my name like that.”
“Like what?” He was edging toward her, wanting to be near enough to feel her breath on his skin. Their knees brushed under the table.
“Like it’s a delicacy.” Her voice was soft and low.
“You enjoy it though. Don’t you?”
She nodded. Frowned. Still, she leaned toward him.
“What else do you think about me, Meira?” he asked again and her cheeks flamed red.
“You’re not as charming as you think you are. You’re arrogant. Sometimes incredibly annoying. And—” Her mouth formed a straight line.
“And…” He curled a finger under her jaw and tipped her face up to him. He wanted to drown in the emerald color of her eyes.
“And you’re a second away from losing your fingers if you don’t get your hand off me.”
He laughed under his breath and dropped his hand, but didn’t put any more room between them. If he gave in to the want inside of him all he’d have to do is close the inch of space that separated their lips.
Whatever she wanted to say, there were other truths that she could use to get around saying it. He’d wonder what it was she refused to tell him for the rest of his life.
“Why did you put this curse on me?” Remis asked softly.
There it was. The big terrible question.
She shook her head gently, her nose scrunching ever so slightly. “I don’t know.”
His chair swayed, the legs wobbly, as he dared put his body close enough that their legs were practically intertwined now. “You don’t know? Why?”
Long lashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes. “I woke up without…without my memories, and with this damn thing on my hand.” Her eyes snapped open and she pulled her glove free to reveal the scar-like mark upon her palm. “And the need to get to you. But no. I do not know why. Time is a great and terrible resource to play with and my memories haven’t caught back up with me yet.”
Remis stared down at that mark, the one that tied them together. On her delicate hand, it didn’t look quite as threatening or daunting. Then again, she was the huntress and not the one being hunted. Her skin was calloused and riddled with scars, the eye was just another to match the rest. He reached out and brushed a finger along the design. One brief touch of her skin was enough to make his pants feel suddenly tight. With the tip of his finger, he drew a line up to her slender wrist and teased underneath the hem of her sleeve. He swore he saw her lashes flutter.
