Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

moves though, the weight of the material keeps it against me like static cling.

Bark presses into my wrinkled leather pants and the vest over my chest as I hug the trunk of the tree. Laughter breaks the night from the men on the street. I freeze at the sound, slowly turning until they’re in my view again. Another man stumbles out into the street. He bends at the waist, coughing until an unthinkable amount of vomit splatters at his feet. The group that's been outside this whole time watch with another chorus of laughter.

Hybrids can be amused by the oddest of things. That's just a fact.

I blow out a long breath that fogs in the evening air. The cold, brittle and painful, is starting to set in as it does in The Bend. That may play a factor in getting our stolen whore back into Hedda's. The cold has a way of making ice cling to every surface, even the ones that you don't think of. I'd slipped one too many times while crawling across rooftops. It's made me cautious. Human bones are brittle.

The roof of the building between Hedda's and the one I'm meant to enter is in just as rough shape as the last. Some shingles remain, but most have gone. I set my foot carefully on the ledge, looking for the most stable of places to walk. The condition of its rotting wood and the show of exposed boards that should never be seen above a building suggests that I could fall through with the wrong placement of my feet. I stare along the point of it. The wood is exposed but looks sturdy enough, it's worth a shot.

I tip-toe across its ledge. Silent steps, a shadow in the night. There is no light up here, not where any Hybrid would even bother to go. However, with their perfect eyesight I'm sure most Hybrids, especially these Elves, would be keen to witness the girl walking the length of the roof.

I stop at the edge, looking out over the building I'm going to enter unseen. Windows line the entire side, many with their curtains drawn. Private rooms, no doubt. Flickering lights creep around the edges of the dark red curtains, making them glow. Movement draws my attention.

One window without curtains to block the view reveals the Hybrids inside. A tangle of man on woman as he presses her against the glass. Her breasts smash against the window, the side of her face too. Fog grows on the window around her warm figure. The man's hands, tan from many days at sea, crawl over her porcelain skin and intertwine in her hair. His own dark curls hide his features as he buries his face in her neck.

I blink, looking away. Heat travels over my skin. I've seen sex before. I've experienced sex before, much more ragged and brutal than the display of lovemaking happening on the top level of Hedda's competitor business. Still, I can’t stop my mind from suggesting that the man in the window... that the man looks like Marcello. And that suddenly makes the moment feel a lot more private.

It's impossible. Not even an Elf could move so fast as to take a woman to bed, two buildings down, in the few minutes it took me to climb over here. Why would I care anyway? I curse myself.

I continue looking the rest of the windows over until I catch one that meets the exact needs of what I'm looking for. The pane isn't closed all the way. Whether the window is broken or purposefully propped open, it doesn't matter. There isn't a light in the room, so it gives me hope that it's empty. But in places like this... I can't be certain. Another risk I'll have to take.

Pushing off the rooftop, I leap across the small space between the two buildings. Breath leaves me in a grunt as I land too close to the edge. I throw my body weight forward and hit the roof with my shins to keep from toppling backwards. Smooth. Saints, I hope that Marcello isn't watching anymore.

I dare a glance back. Relief floods my body when I see the window in Hedda's building thankfully empty. My lips move silently with a prayer to both the Saint of Strength and the Saint of Courage, I’ll need both if they feel so inclined to provide me their blessings.

Now, this time on purpose, I scoot to the edge of the roof and dangle my feet from its ledge. Each window has its own windowsill, approximately an inch wide. That's enough. An inch is all that I need. The shingles press into my abdomen, stealing away some of my breath. I dig my fingers into the building, feeling splinters gather under my nails.

It hurts. But the hurt means I'm alive.

I drop, holding myself only by the slightest grip on the roof. My toes find the nearest windowsill, my knees pressing against the glass. A moan carries through the thin panels and I realize this room isn't empty.

Pressing myself flat, I pinch my fingers into the top of the window frame and prepare to lower myself again. Another cry of pleasure shakes the glass. It travels through the panels and into me. I can feel the noise rattle my bones and set flame to a want deep in the pit of my stomach.

There's something to being the one that's unseen. It feels wrong to eavesdrop, but it also feels oh so right.

Focus, Nilsa. Fucking focus. There’s Hybrids in there, remember that.

So I drop one more time, holding myself tightly to the opened window. It's something that the window is toward the top of the building. I couldn't imagine trying to continue to scale all the way down. However, there are plenty of imperfections in the siding for me to find hold on to.

When another moan