Red Blood (Series of Blood Book 2) by Emma Hamm (rm book recommendations .txt) 📗

him. She was hurt. She liked to think of herself as a catch, and yet this man had somehow managed to convince her that she wasn’t.

Her ego was far too fragile to be around him.

“I’ll bring you to the Graverobber if you can give me the information I need,” he told her slowly.

She couldn’t make this decision. No matter how adorable those eyes were or how much she wanted to see if she could fit her hands around his biceps, Lyra knew that she was easily swayed. That was why she wasn’t usually wandering around on her own.

Other than in the Black Market. Here they always wanted her to go alone. She had likely ruined any other chance at coming back here now that she had admitted who she worked for. Sirens were acceptable. Sirens with a conscious weren’t.

“I’ll consider it,” she said. “But I’m not telling you anything in here.”

“We’re safe enough.”

“We’re not.” She slowly stood up. Lyra didn’t need to have better than average hearing to know that the Wisp had stood up at the same time as her. This was a situation she understood far better than a quaint little coffee shop in the middle of a potion shop. This had been a set up the whole time.

She arched a brow at him.

Wolfgang shrugged. “Precautions are always a good idea.”

“I’m hurt.”

“You said yourself, you could kill me better than you could kill yourself.”

“Not better. Easier.” A shadow crossed over her face as though this was an ending she had considered for herself multiple times. “I’ll meet you outside the Black Market where neither of us has the advantage.”

“I have no advantage here.” He almost seemed insulted.

“I can feel your people’s breath on the back of my neck. I came here with you because I was curious, and you brought reinforcements in case the Siren got a little bit too rowdy for you to handle.”

Anger made her words careless. She knew this kind of treatment; she had known it her entire life. That he would resort to such manners made her heart hurt. Lyra hated it when her heart hurt.

A droplet of water leaked out of her ear. It dripped down the long line of her neck and down the cord of muscle until it slid over her shoulder. This was a warning sign. The first step until she lost her mind entirely.

“I believe we both have mutual goals,” he said. Comfortable and relaxed, he tipped his chair back onto two legs.

“Your employer might.” She gritted through her teeth. “My goals are my own. Now if you don’t mind calling off your dogs, I will see you later.”

As she turned on her heel, he tsked. “You haven’t set up a place to meet yet.”

She didn’t turn back around. Lyra knew that the sight of him leaning against the chair with his arm up would set her off entirely. She didn’t want to get so angry that she lost control. Not for herself but for all the people here who didn’t deserve to be in pain.

“The coffee shop on Fifth and Main tomorrow at noon,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“I don’t particularly like the coffee there.”

“Then drink tea.”

She walked out of the room. She could feel the deceit lingering upon her body and mind. A snake’s den could not have been more dangerous for her. It had been beautiful, light, airy and safe in that room. Lyra should have known better than to entertain that idea.

She more than anyone else understood that dangerous things came in beautiful packages.

No one bothered her as she left the shadows of the potion shop. The cracked pavement seemed to grasp at her heels. Giselle was waiting at her shop with a smirk on her face that made Lyra wonder whether or not she had recognized Wolfgang.

“Thanks for the warning,” Lyra growled as she walked past the shop. “I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

Giselle snuck back into her shop. The Troll should know better than to anger a Siren. Lyra would make certain that payback was delivered a thousand fold.

Both the Troll and Wolfgang had better sleep with both eyes open. Otherwise, they would be waking up with Lyra seated on their chests and hell on their doorstep.

Chapter 4

“Don’t look at me like that, Mungus,” the Graverobber’s deep voice murmured.

The skeleton was, again, standing in the corner of his workshop. It was severely staring at him while he poured over the inner workings of what used to be an enchanted toad. The Graverobber was certain that the creature was naturally born, not cursed, and intended to find proof of that.

He found it damn hard to work when a skeleton was staring towards him with a morose expression on its skull. He tried to stare at the piece of toad that was stretched out on his desk. He tried to focus on the threads of magic that were strung like banners between the pieces.

And yet he couldn’t.

Sighing, he pushed away from his desk and turned towards the skeleton. It did not move when he leveled an angry gaze in Mungus’ direction. Some said the Graverobber was capable of leveling a creature to ash with just a glance. But none of the runes on his body were glowing; so therefore, the skeleton remained safe.

“What? What do you want?”

The empty gaze turned from staring directly at the Graverobber to staring at the note stuck on his wall.

His study wasn’t a professional looking room. There were many notes that fluttered whenever a person passed by them stuck on the stone wall. Books were stacked upon every surface that could hold their weight, and the floor was littered with them. His desk could hardly be seen beneath the groupings of magical objects that rested atop each book stack.

Yet the Graverobber knew exactly which note the skeleton was staring at.

“You know that we need the information she has.”

There was no argument. He didn’t want to argue with a creature that couldn’t talk.