At the Maze's Center by Ruby Duvall

Author:Ruby Duvall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: demon, monster, succubus, second chances, dark fantasy romance, age gap, omyw, back from the dead, deadly sex, forced proximity
Publisher: Ruby Duvall

Part Three:

Delectable Passion

Chapter Nineteen

“I’m told you can speak Common?”

Pausing in her scrubbing of the hallway floor, Nene looked up at her employer, Master Hayashi, whose mouth was tight with irritation to match his snappish tone.

“Well enough, sir,” she said, on guard.

“And what does ‘well enough’ mean?”

She held back a defiant glare. “Enough for regular conversation.” Which he’d learned at her placement interview but had apparently forgotten. All he cared about was money and—when he was drunk—propositioning her.

“Come with me. You can finish that later,” he bade. “And fix yourself up. You’re as unkempt as a field hand.”

Stung, she followed the innkeeper toward the reception area, wiping her hands on her apron and tucking a stray lock of her black hair into her head scarf. She could do little about her red cheeks when Hayashi worked her to the bone, but she blotted the sweat from her forehead with her handkerchief.

“An odd group has just arrived,” Hayashi told her, speaking low and fast. “They say they’re delegates from Houfu, and only one of them speaks Gozuan. Name’s Noriaki. Two of the five are crows. Uncleansed,” he whispered forcefully.

“I want you to show them to their suite and attend them during their stay,” he said. “But don’t let them know you speak Common. Tell me everything you overhear. Understand?”

She had little choice but to nod, although the thought of lying made the corners of her mouth tighten. She was neither good at it nor comfortable with it. They would see right through her.

At least it wasn’t some new onerous chore, she supposed. The innkeeper rarely used her for guest relations, but she was certain she’d remember her early training. When bowing, bend low enough to see your own feet. Smile with your eyes. Open and close doors for guests. Move quietly.

Unfortunately, she forgot half of it the second she laid eyes on the newly arrived guests, who were still checking in. Or rather, when she spotted one guest in particular—an unimprovably handsome young man with black hair cut close to his scalp. Easily a head taller than her, he had thick brows over beautiful dark-brown eyes, and high cheek bones softened by full, petulant lips.

He and the rest of his party were better-dressed than she could ever comfortably afford, all of them wearing fine, thick linens and wools. His hooded overcoat and fitted split-skirt had been dyed in beautiful but subtle dark-brown patterns that complemented his warm, sandy complexion. And he seemed quite accustomed to the sword at his waist.

The “neutral” expression he wore for the reception clerk made him look rather unapproachable, but it softened a degree when he noticed her arrival, his posture turning unsure, as though something about her was unexpected. Her beet-red face, no doubt.

His gaze landed on her forearm, where she was branded, and his expression hardened once more, the lines of his cut jaw firming and flexing. The crow woman next to him, whose hand rested casually on the sword at her waist, also noticed it and subtly scowled.

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