CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mira trudged alongside Tarquin, wearing her silk blouse underneath her cloak. Her breath curled in the air in front of her, and she stuffed her fingers in the pockets of her trousers to keep them from the chill. The streets were a mess from the rain the night before, and as she glanced down at her nice shoes that were buried under a thick layer of mud, she couldn’t help but feel silly for making fun of Tarquin’s boots.
They approached a light colored, massive building, covering an entire city block, completely out of place among the small dark houses with smoke rising from their chimneys. Mira supposed it was a compound of sorts, perhaps meant to house many families. She saw how wrong she was as they came closer. There was one gate in the front, one massive front door, and apparently only one man who lived inside.
They were greeted by four servants, two male and two female, each wearing nothing but billowing pants that were tight at the ankles. Mira unconsciously crossed her arms over her breasts as she tried not to stare, and when she heard Tarquin’s dark chuckle directed at her she narrowed her eyes at him.
Cyrus’s home was like nothing she’d ever seen. The front doors opened into a large, brilliantly white room with colorful tile mosaics covering every inch of the walls. The entire space in front of them, which should have been a wall, was just an open space covered in white, sheer curtains, leading to an outdoor courtyard of which Mira could see just a glimpse. The oddest thing was the warmth. The air inside was positively balmy despite the open walls.
They were led all the way to the back of the house, and then forward to greet Cyrus where he reclined on a chaise. He stood to meet them. Mira was a tall woman, and Tarquin towered above her; but Cyrus towered over Tarquin. He was very thin, his ribs visible on his shirtless, oiled abdomen. Tarquin hadn’t given her real details about the man, but it was obvious that he wasn’t a shifter, and it couldn’t have possibly been more clear that he wasn’t human. Slippery was the only word that came to mind as she watched him move.
“Oh Tarquin,” he said, his voice smooth and pleasant, but with some other quality. He sounded like he was trying to mimic human language. “It’s been such a very long time. I’ve missed you.”
Tarquin nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything.
He turned his attention to Mira and crossed the room to her faster than she imagined he could move. He brought his face down to hers, so close she could feel a strange heat radiating from him, then he moved his nose next to her ear and sniffed. “You’re lovely, darling,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Mira,” she said quietly, holding her breath until he’d retreated a few feet from her.
“Tell me Tarquin,” he said, “is she yours?”
Mira watched him carefully, and didn’t understand the disappointment that washed over her when he answered, “No.”
“I heard that you were mated,” said Cyrus, then leaned in close to Tarquin’s neck as he’d done with Mira. “And you positively reek of her.”
Heat flooded Mira’s cheeks, and she didn’t miss the quick glance that Tarquin gave her. “My mate is dead,” he said flatly.
“Hmm,” was Cyrus’s only response, then he gestured for them to be seated on the floor.
Mira crossed her legs in front of herself, and wasn’t displeased when Tarquin sat so close their legs were touching. This place was so strange, this man was so wrong, and Tarquin was warm and solid and safe.
“I like the new house,” he volunteered from next to Mira. “What happened to the Chateau?”
Cyrus pursed his thin lips together as he re-seated himself on the pillows he’d been perched on. “I summer there now. This is my winter home.”
“How is it so warm?” Mira asked, the question slipping out before she even knew she was talking.
“Sweet dove,” he murmured, watching her in a way that made her want to crawl out of her skin. “I’m a very wealthy man. I can afford to keep a mage or two on staff.”
Mira nodded and leaned slightly closer to Tarquin.
“I know you’re here for a reason, Tarquin,” he said after a minute of silence. “Tell me what you want of me.”
“I’m looking for my brothers,” he said.
“They’re in the royal palace, as you well know,” said Cyrus, something like a mischievous glint in his eye.
Tarquin set his jaw. “You know who I mean.”
“The twins,” Cyrus said.
Tarquin nodded and Mira turned to him, surprised. She’d known they’d all been separated before coming to Dragongrove, but had assumed that all of the brothers were together now. She didn’t know that there were more.
“I’ll look into it,” said Cyrus. “In the meantime, stay with me.”
“That’s unnecessary,” said Tarquin. “We’ve already secured lodging.”
Cyrus smiled. “Yes, I know, and I’ve had your things brought here. If you want my help then you will stay with me.”
Tarquin turned to look at Mira, a question in his gaze. She nodded, nearly imperceptibly.
“I’m sure you’re tired, I’ll have you shown to your room… rooms?” Cyrus asked, his eyebrows raised slightly.
Tarquin glanced at her quickly, his expression unreadable, and she just leaned further into him. “One room,” he said, after a short pause.
“I was sure that was the case,” said Cyrus, then waved his hand slightly. A woman walked in, her body a golden tan, her breasts on display and her head freshly shaved. “Show them to their room,” he directed her, and she wordlessly gestured for them to follow her.
Tarquin stood and extended his hand to help Mira up, and she didn’t let go once she was standing. Instead, she clung to it while they walked the breezy hallways of the airy house, feeling more than a little claustrophobic.