Maia shook with a hot shudder.
They were in plain view of just about anyone who came past; now they'd definitely be a social pariah for canoodling in the street. Maia grinned, delighted, and tilted her head so she could drag her tongue up the hawk inked on the side of Ark's neck.
He groaned.
"I'll take it under advisement," she offered, managing to keep her voice even through sheer will.
"I didn't agree to this shit," Bryon growled, his bulky arms crossed over his chest and his expression like a bulldog chewing a wasp.
"Don't worry, Bry," Maia said cheerfully, drawing back from Ark and a little grateful to see the street was empty except for them. "I'm sure we can find a nice woman to cheer you up. Or a nice man, whichever's your fancy. The city's gotta be big enough to find one person who'll gaze upon your face with love instead of exasperation."
His brows lowered, mouth flattening. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"It's supposed to be moving and inspirational," Maia breathed, pressing a hand to her chest in pretend offence.
"Maia," Azrail said—one word, but with enough warning that Maia was sure her pupils dilated.
Thank fuck they were getting a room for the night; Maia was going to make good use of it.
"In," Az ordered, jerking his chin at the inn as he pulled the door open. His expression repeated his 'don't cause trouble' command, and Maia was more than a little turned on.
She decided to be good, and strolled into the Wyvern’s Rest with a smile on her face. It fell when she assessed the room inside; padded benches, sturdy chairs, and a solid bar at the far end of the room manned by a wholesome looking man. There were four people in the whole pub, and that was including the barman. No, there'd definitely be no tawdry ballads here tonight.
The brown-haired barman glanced up when they entered, and frowned. Yep, definitely not big on newcomers in this place. How did they know they were outsiders, though? A city was a big place; they could have come from a different quarter.
"Hello, there," Azrail said, taking the lead and turning his charm all the way up. Maia blinked; she'd almost forgotten how good he was at schmoozing. "We're on our way to Crystellion Port and were hoping we could stay here for a night. Terrible weather today, isn't it?"
Either Azrail was one lucky bastard, or very, very clever. The barman's doughy face lit up, and a deep sigh punched from his chest.
He leaned forward, a silver cross swinging from his neck. "Tell me about it. Never seen the likes of it. That storm came out of nowhere, and then twenty minutes later it just completely vanishes. The saints are in a strange mood today, that's for sure."
Maia choked, but pretended to stifle a cough. Kheir nudged her, a flicker of a smile on his stunning bronze face. The saints were certainly in a strange mood, and that mood was horny. Maia wanted to tell the innkeeper to hurry the hell up so she could collapse into bed with her mates.
Azrail and the barman—Arloe—talked about the weather for another few, excruciating minutes. Kheir decided to torment her by tracing patterns on her arm through her wet borrowed coat. The shivers that raced down her spine weren't because of the cold now. She gave him a heated scowl, and looked swiftly away at the stare he returned: like he wanted to devour her whole.
"So how many rooms is it, Kai?" Arloe asked with an affable smile.
Azrail—or Kai, as he'd introduced himself—said, "We'll take two."
"With all you lot?" Arloe laughed. "It'll be a squeeze in two rooms; they're not the biggest. Tell you what, I'll take ten coins off the price of three rooms. Then the newlyweds there can have their own room and you gents won't be crammed in together. It's nice to talk to someone who can appreciate a nimbus as much as me."
Newlyweds? Maia blinked, then gave Kheir a sly look. He raised an eyebrow in reply. They didn't correct Arloe; it was a sound assumption given they kept exchanging heated looks. Sometimes newly married couples had to wait to get their rings; even silver was pricey these days. So it wasn't uncommon to see couples with no rings six months into a marriage.
"With a generous offer like that, how can I refuse?" Azrail replied with a warm laugh. Smooth bastard. Maia was inordinately proud to call him her mate. She had a feeling he could charm the fleece off a ewe's back. "We'll take three. How much do I owe you?"
Maia kept shooting sly grins at Kheir, her newly minted husband. She caught Jaro watching them with something like fond amusement, too, as Azrail took their keys and led them around the bar to a door set back from the tables and chairs.
"Nimbus?" Maia asked Az when they were out of earshot.
"It's a type of cloud," he explained with a crooked grin.
"I'm amazed at your wealth of knowledge," Maia replied, nudging him with her shoulder. "Where did you learn about clouds, anyway?"
He gave her a smirk. "In a book. At the library. This shouldn't come as a huge shock to you; it's where we met."
"Yes, smartass," she huffed, nudging him again as he pushed the door open and they ascended a tight, crooked staircase. Every stair creaked, and it was so satisfying to hear something familiar in a perfect, too-clean inn like this. "I knowthat."
At the top of the stairs, Azrail searched the numbers on the oak wood doors, finding rooms two, four, and seven. Bryon eagerly accepted the keys to room seven at the end of the hall, offering a goodbye grunt before he unlocked the door and disappeared inside.