Page 62 of Code Bound
I release him. “Then get me something to drink that doesn’t taste like sewage water. Now.”
The man immediately rushes around the bar and grabs a bottle, tipping it upside down and filling a glass before sliding it across the bar. He fills one for Locke when he takes a seat beside me and then retreats to the other side of the bar where he eyes me with equal parts fear and disgust. No doubt he thinks I’ve been overcome with this “hysteria” he was blathering about.
Locke is grinning at me as he picks up his glass and takes a sniff of it. He wrinkles his nose and takes a sip, making his own face of disgust before downing the whole glass.
“You sure know how to make friends,” he says.
“You were arguing with him first,” I point out.
“Yeah, because he kept trying to serve me howler monkey blood with a bone in it,” he replies. “Said all the Bone Breakers love the drink. I just wanted some sort of liquor.”
“Ew,” I say, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but here I am, surprised that the Harrow is made up of a million things I don’t understand.”
The bartender reappears to refill Locke’s glass and then when he thinks better of it, he fills mine further up before retreating again. He watches us with wide, intense eyes until it’s almost uncomfortable, especially when I realize he doesn’t blink.
“You think these people are actually people?” I ask Locke, staring at the bartender.
“What else would they be?” Locke asks, raising his brow. “As far as I can tell, the NPCs have flesh the same as?—”
“People is a loose term,” a voice interrupts from my other side. “They hardly count anymore.”
I whirl on the stool and take in the man now suddenly sitting beside me at the bar. I hadn’t heard or felt him take a seat and clearly, Locke didn’t either because he’s out of his chair with his new hammer in his hand before I can even pull mine.
The new man eyes the hammer and laughs. “You can’t use that in here, Bone Breaker. Safehouses are just that.” He raises his brow. “Safe. No violence inside.”
“Or what?” Locke hisses, not putting his hammer away.
The newcomer shrugs. “I suppose that’s up to Cipher. I’ve watched men explode and others be teleported away somewhere random.” He grins. “The system is an asshole so I assume it wasn’t somewhere pleasant.”
I don’t slide off my stool like Locke. I remain where I am, my knees slightly turned toward the man. Mostly, it’s because he feels like a threat and I don’t want him to think me weak. Predators go for the throat when they think you’re weak, and this man practically drips with predatory intent.
“And who are you?” I ask, watching him carefully. We’re too close, but I don’t want to move away and give him a win. He’s intentionally in my space.
His eyes are the palest of blues. Combined with his pale skin and short, white hair, he looks almost like ice. Even folded onto the stool as he is, I can tell he’s tall and lean, his neck and arms rippling with muscle. His clothing screams wealth, the kind of clothes that the richest in Dross would wear, but somehow still more expensive. They’re completely made of cotton and they’re spotless. He wears golden jewelry, an amulet around his neck, and a chain hanging on his pants. Black ink swirls along his neck and disappears into his shirt, hiding the rest of the design so I can’t really tell what they are.
When he looks at me, some part of me shrivels up and wants to move away from him. I don’t out of sheer willpower alone.
“Well, Beastie,” he says to me, leaning in closer. “You can call me Stryker.” His eyes trail down my body, taking in every part of me. “You are a particularly interesting creature, aren’t you?”
My instincts start to scream at me to run. To get away from this man. But beneath those instincts is another one, one that wants to tangle with him, one that wants to wrestle and win.
“What level are you, Stryker?” Locke asks, refusing to sit back down. He looms over my back, a protector and a friend. Just like I do, he senses the threat that Stryker presents.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Beast Bound and Bone Breaker travelling together,” he comments instead of answering, watching the both of us carefully. He doesn’t seem nearly as interested in Locke as he is me, his eyes always coming back to focus on my body, my lips, my chest, my hands as they hold the crystal glass.
“Might I suggest you give Stryker a wide berth,” Cipher pips in softly in my mind.
Why?I ask silently, not wanting Stryker to know I’m talking to Cipher. Hopefully, Cipher can hear the question. Stryker looks toward me despite saying it in my mind and grins. It’s both menacing and sensual, and my body reacts as such. Part of me wants to run far, far away. The other part wants to invite him in.
“Do you desire, Beastie?” Stryker asks.
I frown. “Desire what?”
He chuckles and touches a finger to my hand where it rests on the bar. I don’t flinch away, but Locke tenses behind me. Only the relief that this is a safehouse and Stryker can’t hurt me here keeps me from doing so.
“Desire is not the answer,” he responds. “Desire is the question. It’s a promise.” He slides that finger along my vein. “Desire is a knife, a foreign object, lodged deep in your chest.” He leans closer, those ice blue eyes focused on mine. “Do youdesire?”
I study him, absorbing his words, and try to search for the correct answer. My fight or flight tingles are screaming at me. Stab him! Run away! My body is in a confused war with itself, but still, I answer.
