Taken

Chapter 16 (Part 2)

"You-"

"Rowan!" A shout sounded from the end of the alley to interrupt him.

My wide eyes snapped over the man's shoulder to take in the swaying man who made his way towards us.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he slurred out. It was evident that he had been drinking.

The man, Rowan, cursed under his breath as he reached for me again. This time, it wasn't to take in the curves of my ears that should have been pointed, it was to shift my hair to hide them. Once satisfied, his stern eyes met mine for a moment before he looked away, turning to face the approaching man as he rose.

"Atwood. I see you've been wasting your free time drowning in a bottle again."

"That's not all I've been drowning in," Atwood responded, his tone as suggestive as the waggle of his brows. It didn't take much to surmise what his words meant given where we were.

As he drew closer, his glassy eyes looked past Rowan, taking notice of me on the ground where I had shifted back and pulled my knees to my chest. I tensed under his gaze.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his brow rising in surprise as he came to a stop a few steps away from him. The coat that covered his thin body was identical to the one the man in front of me wore. Only, instead of the red details decorating the edges of Rowan's collar, the ones on his were bronze. "It seems you've been having some fun of your own. Finally found a whore that caught your eye, huh?"

I cringed at the crude address, offense and anger sparking in my chest. Not only for myself but also for the woman who had to deal with men such as him.

A frown pulled at Rowan's lips as he narrowed his eyes at the man. "I'll meet you and the others at the tavern," he said dismissively as he crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted to the side, seemingly blocking me from his sight.

Atwood's lips pressed together, but he leaned his drunk body to the side to peer around him, turning his unsteady eyes back to me. "Be gentle with this one," he mock whispered, cupping a hand around his mouth. "He's a bit of a prude. None of us are even sure if he's ever had his dick wet." His pretense of whispering didn't last long as his words ended in a guffawing laugh.

"Atwood," Rowan spoke in warning, his voice rising to be heard.

The man's laughter continued as he turned, obeying the order Rowan's voice held. "Don't spend all your coin on the lass, sir," he called out over his shoulder. "You still owe me and the lads another round."

Rowan released a sigh once his friend had staggered his way out of view. My breath caught in my throat when he turned to face me again. I didn't breathe as looked down his sharp nose at me with cold eyes, waiting for him to determine his next step. It was clear in the way his eyes were narrowed on my covered ears that he had seen through my glamour despite the ring still being snuggly in place on my finger. And that he was a High Fae.

One that seemed to be a half-blood like Silas.

But unlike him, he didn't have a matching mark with someone whose body held a Blood Stone. Silas's developing capabilities, including his mishaps with flames and water that his mixed blood couldn't account for, could potentially be explained by the mark we shared, but Rowan's strength that rivaled his couldn't.

Unless I had heard Hilda wrong, he shouldn't have been able to so easily drop two men with the blood of one court and heal me so effortlessly with the blood of another. Especially without breaking a sweat. Not as a half-blood.

The thought of Hilda had her warnings filling my head and playing on repeat. My breaths grew shallow as my heart pounded harder.

His jaw tightened with internal conflict as his that gave little away eyes locked with mine. "Trouble," he whispered to himself under his breath. Dropping his arms, he turned away from me. "Leave. Before they stir," he clipped out as reached into his coat for another smoke while walking away. Pulling out a lighter and flipping it open, he lit it as he followed after his friend.