I meandered past a table for six, ignoring the bozos eyeing my boobs. Sawberry Fae, all of them— rough and crude. I couldn’t blame them for looking, though. After all, I was dressed to attract. For one thing, Roche responded to curvy women, so I was playing it up to lure him out. For another, I’d been waiting for a chance to wear my new outfit. Tight, sheer magenta tunic, thin skirt with a slit all the way up my thigh, the barest hint of woven silver panties. I made quite an impression, all right.
So when men stared at my boobs, it was part of the game and I just laughed it off. But the sweaty hand reaching out to cop a feel on my butt crossed the line.
“That’s one step too far, boy.”
The man didn’t budge, his fingers firmly fastened on my ass. “Hey girlie, give me a ride. I promise, I can do amazing tricks with my tongue.”
“I said, back off. I don’t offer pity fucks.” I didn’t pay for it either, and all the opium eaters were looking for was cash for another round.
“The pity would be if you don’t fuck me.” He snorted and squeezed.
Realizing I wasn’t going to get out of this without making some sort of scene, I slid my leg through the slit in my skirt to show off the silver dagger strapped around my thigh.
“Remove the fingers from my ass or I’ll ram my stiletto through your crotch and you’ll never use that cock of yours again. Understand?”
He scowled as his buddies laughed, but he let go.
I leaned on the table. “Listen, boys, some of you aren’t half bad. Or you wouldn’t be if your eyes weren’t glazed over and your teeth were a couple of shades closer to white. Clean up your act and get a job.”
Without warning, Mr. Butt- Grabber grabbed my wrist and twisted. Hard. “Bitch. When I want advice from a half- breed, I’ll ask for it.”
“What did you call me?” I couldn’t reach my stiletto—he had my wrist, but he was standing, pressing against me, so I came down hard on his insole with my heel. He yelped and let go. I whipped out my dagger as he knocked over his chair. The dude was a good six- five and muscled, and it took everything I had to stand my ground. “Touch me again and you’ve touched your last woman.”
“Filthy windwalker.” He fumbled for his weapon, but his eyes were so glazed over from the opium that he couldn’t get a good grip on the hilt. I knew the look, though, and it wasn’t a safe one. Junkies were dangerous. “You should be grateful for any attention you get— ”
“I suggest you apologize to the lady right now, unless you prefer to make an intimate acquaintance with my blade.”
The voice came from behind the Sawberry. It was smooth and calm, like silk drawn across skin, and set up a vibration in the air that rolled through my senses like a wave. I slowly turned my head to see who was speaking.
The most gorgeous man I’d ever seen was standing there, serrated dagger out, the tip lightly pressed against Mr. Fingers’s ribs. He wasn’t even looking at the Sawberry, but instead, was staring at me— his gaze fastened on my face, not my breasts. His eyes were the coolest shade of blue I’d ever seen. Ice blue. Glacier blue. Blue like a frosty morning in autumn. They stood out against the onyx color of his skin, as did the shock of silver hair that fl owed down his back, shining with cerulean highlights. His face, though . . . damn, he was beautiful. More handsome than any man had a right to be, with a refined nose that led narrowly down to thick, luscious lips.
My breath caught in my throat. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, and help me get out of my head.
Excerpt from Etched In Silver
Copyright 2010, Yasmine Galenorn
Do NOT Reproduced