side.
“Let us go.”
Though concerned with Core’s flat voice, she couldn’t let the opportunity slide. She had to return home and finish her old life so she could begin anew. Mallory reached for the door with one hand and with the other latched onto Core. Then she stepped into the same room she’d seen only days ago.
Core’s heartfelt sigh made her blink back tears. She took him in her arms and hugged him tight, wishing she could wrap her arms all the way around him and take away his pain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“As am I. Fenin was my brother, my friend.”
“Your enemy,” Rattler added from behind them.
Core thrust Mal behind him and turned to face Rattler at the same time. But when his eyes met Rattler’s, he faltered.
“Ratlaharan?” “Rattler?” Core and she said at the same time.
Her boss smiled, sporting a new tongue piercing. “In the flesh.”
* * *
Core couldn’t help it. He wanted to fall to his knees, prostrate before his god. But something about this male Mallory called Rattler felt off. He didn’t trust the gleam in the man’s eyes when they lit on his mate.
“You are Ratlaharan, creator of the Talian.” Core waited, his entire being quaking at not showing his god the proper respect. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to be on guard.
“Actually, here I’m Rattler, owner of The Python Palace.” Rattler looked so much like him Core had to force himself not to stare. “Want a tour?”
Rattler walked around them and opened the door. But he didn’t step out into the pleasure house. Instead, he entered an unfamiliar room Core recognized from Mallory’s description.
Rattler smiled. “This, my friend, is The Lounge, a special place for special people.” He winked at Mallory, and Core threw a possessive arm over her shoulder.
“Rattler, tell Core you’re not this deity.” She chuckled. “You, a god? Come on.”
They descended the stairs onto a crowded floor filled with people who resembled Mallory in dress and manner. All had skin in shades of brown and tan. Men and women mingled, no open seduction here, but a good amount of drinking and carousing. A long counter took up the far wall of the large room, what in Core’s world would have been the open sleeping berth. From behind the counter two women gave out glasses of liquid. A deep throbbing noise pounded from a direction off to his right.
“What do you think of my place, Core?” Rattlerasked, his amusement plain.
“Not a place befitting a god,” Core had to admit. “Though it seems entertaining.”
“Sherm!” Mal flew out of his arms toward a large brown man, heavy with muscle. Core growled, automatically reaching for his swords only to realize they were no longer there.
“Check out your new threads,” Rattler murmured and turned to wave at several people.
Coarse clothing covered him from neck to toe. Core stared wide-eyed at his confining trousers and heavy footwear. The shirt he wore looked much like the shirt Mallory had arrived in, though his was black and much larger.
“Don’t worry about Mallory. The big guy she’s hugging is her best friend.” Rattler studied Core, as if weighing his worth.
“Why am I here?” Core had to know.
“Because you needed to see Mallory’s world. And she needed to return.”
Core tensed. “To say her goodbyes, yes.”
Rattler shook his head. “She belongs here with her kind. Just as you belong in Horum Veirus with yours.”
Core snarled, surprising himself. “You will not take back what you gave freely. The woman is mine. I have sacrificed, battled, and will continue to fight for my people for the remainder of my life. But that life is one I will make with Mallory.”
“So you would choose to live here with her rather than with your people, War Leader? You were born to serve, yet you would abandon the Talians in their time of need for your time of pleasure?” Rattler crossed his muscular arms over his chest.
Time seemed to slow
“Let us go.”
Though concerned with Core’s flat voice, she couldn’t let the opportunity slide. She had to return home and finish her old life so she could begin anew. Mallory reached for the door with one hand and with the other latched onto Core. Then she stepped into the same room she’d seen only days ago.
Core’s heartfelt sigh made her blink back tears. She took him in her arms and hugged him tight, wishing she could wrap her arms all the way around him and take away his pain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“As am I. Fenin was my brother, my friend.”
“Your enemy,” Rattler added from behind them.
Core thrust Mal behind him and turned to face Rattler at the same time. But when his eyes met Rattler’s, he faltered.
“Ratlaharan?” “Rattler?” Core and she said at the same time.
Her boss smiled, sporting a new tongue piercing. “In the flesh.”
* * *
Core couldn’t help it. He wanted to fall to his knees, prostrate before his god. But something about this male Mallory called Rattler felt off. He didn’t trust the gleam in the man’s eyes when they lit on his mate.
“You are Ratlaharan, creator of the Talian.” Core waited, his entire being quaking at not showing his god the proper respect. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to be on guard.
“Actually, here I’m Rattler, owner of The Python Palace.” Rattler looked so much like him Core had to force himself not to stare. “Want a tour?”
Rattler walked around them and opened the door. But he didn’t step out into the pleasure house. Instead, he entered an unfamiliar room Core recognized from Mallory’s description.
Rattler smiled. “This, my friend, is The Lounge, a special place for special people.” He winked at Mallory, and Core threw a possessive arm over her shoulder.
“Rattler, tell Core you’re not this deity.” She chuckled. “You, a god? Come on.”
They descended the stairs onto a crowded floor filled with people who resembled Mallory in dress and manner. All had skin in shades of brown and tan. Men and women mingled, no open seduction here, but a good amount of drinking and carousing. A long counter took up the far wall of the large room, what in Core’s world would have been the open sleeping berth. From behind the counter two women gave out glasses of liquid. A deep throbbing noise pounded from a direction off to his right.
“What do you think of my place, Core?” Rattlerasked, his amusement plain.
“Not a place befitting a god,” Core had to admit. “Though it seems entertaining.”
“Sherm!” Mal flew out of his arms toward a large brown man, heavy with muscle. Core growled, automatically reaching for his swords only to realize they were no longer there.
“Check out your new threads,” Rattler murmured and turned to wave at several people.
Coarse clothing covered him from neck to toe. Core stared wide-eyed at his confining trousers and heavy footwear. The shirt he wore looked much like the shirt Mallory had arrived in, though his was black and much larger.
“Don’t worry about Mallory. The big guy she’s hugging is her best friend.” Rattler studied Core, as if weighing his worth.
“Why am I here?” Core had to know.
“Because you needed to see Mallory’s world. And she needed to return.”
Core tensed. “To say her goodbyes, yes.”
Rattler shook his head. “She belongs here with her kind. Just as you belong in Horum Veirus with yours.”
Core snarled, surprising himself. “You will not take back what you gave freely. The woman is mine. I have sacrificed, battled, and will continue to fight for my people for the remainder of my life. But that life is one I will make with Mallory.”
“So you would choose to live here with her rather than with your people, War Leader? You were born to serve, yet you would abandon the Talians in their time of need for your time of pleasure?” Rattler crossed his muscular arms over his chest.
Time seemed to slow
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