After Tristan left, I hung around the guild until late evening, talking with Baba and Pele—the two who usually gave me bread and water. There were others too. Bryson, an attendant. Victoria's sister, Emma—more stray than member—who had no real function except showing up to fight with Baba about how filthy he was.
Their fights were always comedy gold.
But I loved Baba and Pele's conversations most. They gave me a window into this world which I barely knew.
"It's really hard to picture you as a soldier, Baba." I laughed after hearing how he'd saved a countess's daughter back in his soldier days. They fell in love, but their difference in status blocked any chance of marriage. In the end, she was married off to a duke.
Baba shook his head. "It's a mad world we live in, Cade. You can't have anything—nothing at all—unless you matter. You either gotta have the balls or the power."
Pele shot him a look. "What are you saying? Even balls require power." He turned to me. "I don't know what kind of world you're coming from, Cade, but step wrong in this one and you'll be killed. No justice, no mercy. If you don't matter, the rules don't care about you. That's why my advice is simple: matter. Be strong. You've got the tools—don't shy from them. Use them well."
I nodded. "I plan to do just that."
Just then, Lira emerged from Clara's room and walked to our table.
She smiled. "Filling him with your endless war stories?"
Baba shot her a glare. "What would you know? You never stay around to listen!"
Lira laughed and shook her head. She looked at me. "We should get going."
I said goodbye to Baba and Pele, waved to Bryson and Emma and the others on my way out.
Outside, the sky had gone dark. Inside, candles blazed in a network of golden light, drowning the main hall in their glow.
We stepped out of the Mercenary Guild and walked up the street. Silvery light poured from the lamp posts, painting the cobblestones. We walked in silence, unhurried, weaving through the crowd. It had doubled since afternoon. Voices rose and fell—people talking, cheering, stall owners hawking their wares to passersby.
I watched Lira. She was quieter than usual. Her hair caught the lamplight, golden eyes calm, skin luminous.
She wore a dark teal dress that moved like liquid, catching the light. It traced her shape—curves sculpted by confidence, not just beauty. Embroidered blossoms ran along her sides, following the line from waist to hip.
Her amber hair framed her face in short layers. Those golden eyes—cool, unhurried, sharp—held a calm that could cut through words. When she raised her hand to adjust a strand, the motion was effortless.
Nothing about her was loud. Yet everything demanded attention. Still, something was different. She was quieter tonight.
"Are you okay?"
Lira's head snapped toward me. "Huh? Yeah. I'm fine." She tilted her head, smile turning sly. "Are you worried about me?"
I raised a brow. "Am I not supposed to be?"
She chuckled. "Well, you're the one who said an old lady like me couldn't get attached just because we had sex."
I exhaled. "That was then. Things change. I wouldn't blame you if you got attached." I paused. "Besides, I care about you. And you are definitely not old!"
She stopped. And stared at me with a stunned expression.
Under her gaze, I rubbed the back of my neck and let out an awkward laugh. "You're staring."
"I am." Her voice was soft. "Were you always this handsome?"
I frowned. "Handsome? That's an understatement. You should see my family line. We come from the lineage of gods!—"
Before I could finish, her lips pressed against mine. She rose on her toes, caught my lower lip between hers, tongue soft and warm.
I tried to mutter a protest, but her kiss, fierce and demanding, sealed my lips. When she finally broke away, a thin, shimmering string of saliva stretched between us, snapping with a soft, wet sound.
"We're outside!" I gasped but her eyes burned into mine, completely disregarding my concern. Instead, she snatched my hand, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me towards the inky blackness of the alley beside us.
As we plunged into the narrow passage, the prickle of a gaze followed us. I'd felt it even before the kiss, a persistent unease that Lira's sudden quietness had overshadowed. Yet, as we disappeared into the alley, the sensation vanished, or at least seemed to, as if whatever had been watching had lost interest. Trying to shake off the distraction, I focused as Lira slammed me against the rough brick wall and kissed me again, harder this time.
She came at me with an intensity that stole my breath, her tongue a demanding exploration of mine, while her hands plunged beneath my shirt, fumbling for my waistband. I met her fire with my own, my hands finding the swell of her tight ass, gripping, caressing, and eliciting a sharp, satisfying slap from the night.
The sound was immediately swallowed by the city's indifferent noise.
A flicker of unease about our surroundings warred with a sudden, unexpected surge of arousal. The sheer audacity of the moment, Lira's lips devouring mine, burned away any lingering hesitation.
With both hands, I lifted her, her legs instantly coiling around my waist. We deepened the kiss, a frantic dance of tongues and mouths, as I turned her, pressing her flat against the cold, unyielding wall. For a timeless moment, we were locked in that embrace, until the strain in my muscles must have betrayed me, and she broke away, breathless.
She dropped to her knees before me, her fingers working at my zipper. My trousers fell, and my rod sprang free, hard as stone. Her hands, surprisingly cool against my heat, enveloped me, and a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure surged through every fiber of my being.
She took the tip of my cock into her mouth, her tongue tracing lazy circles around its crown, then slicked it with her saliva before taking me deeper, her mouth a masterful rhythm of licking and sucking.
Gripped by waves of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain, I stifled a groan, my eyes squeezing shut. My hand found her hair, a desperate anchor as she began to take me fully into her throat.
Slurp.
Slurp.
Slurp.
Each movement was an exquisite torment, a sensation so profound it defied language. It felt as though a part of me had been severed, lost within the slick, yielding depths of some primal, monstrous maw, yet I could still feel the phantom touch, the exquisite connection.
She drew me deeper still, her throat working, a soft gag escaping her lips as she looked up at me, her eyes wide. My legs trembled uncontrollably, and despite my efforts to remain still, my hips instinctively began to move.
The build-up was relentless, a crescendo of sensation, until with an explosive surge, I erupted, a torrent of white heat filling her mouth. My vision swam, the world dissolving into pure sensation.
She looked up at me from her kneeling position, her gaze carrying a profound innocence, a silent plea for dominion. It was an absolute submission, unlike anything I had ever witnessed.
Slowly, she raised the hem of her dress, her movements deliberate as she pulled down her panties. She folded them with trembling fingers and placed them into my pocket. A faint sheen of moisture tracked down her inner thighs. I fought the urge to gloat, a different hunger stirring within me—a need to understand. To know what this wild, consuming thing between us truly was.
She looked at me then, her expression like that of a bewildered puppy. "Aren't you going to fuck me?" she whispered, her eyes flicking down to my still-hard cock. "It's still hard."
She licked her finger, her gaze meeting mine, a dangerous blend of innocence and invitation. "Please, Cade. I need you inside me."
She spread her legs, her hand drifting to her core. "I love it when you fill me up," she murmured, her voice thick with longing. "When you fuck me and tell me to call you master. I love the way you look at me when you're inside me. I love how you touch my body. I don't want to stop being fucked by you. So, can you fuck me now? And then can we go to my place, and you can fuck me again until I can't feel anything? Or until the sun comes up?"