A Siren's Song (Ride of the Darkyrie 2) by Saranna DeWylde Read Free Book Online

to chat and play with your artiste .”
                  “That’s because I’m going to kill him.”
                  The candlelight played over his visage, making the burned side of his face look like it was still on fire just as the firelight had in the warehouse. I wondered if it still felt like it was burning when his skin was near a heat source.
                  “Why is that?” he asked casually and took a bite of Richard’s gyro.
                  “Because he’s a predator.”
                  “Know that, do you? Without a doubt?”
                  “Yes.”
                  “Have you seen him kill?” He asked as he opened the pita bread and inspected the contents, seeming to find them lacking.
                  “I don’t need to. I know when someone belongs to me.”
                  “What if you’re wrong?” He dropped another dollop on Tzatziki sauce on the gyro and rolled the pita bread back up before taking another bite.
                  “Do you know something I don’t?” Was it possible I was wrong?
                  “I know plenty you don’t.” He paused dramatically and made it a point to overchew before he swallowed and spoke again. “But about your pretty boy? No.”
                  “Then what do you want? And stop eating Richard’s gyro,” I hissed.
                  “I want you to remember. So I can kill you and take your head back to my queen.”
                  “I thought you wanted me dead because I wronged you ?” This conversation was as surreal as it could get, but I found it strangely normal.
                  “You did. Getting paid to kill you is just a bonus.”
                  “I see.” I shoved my salad around my plate some more, using it almost like a Zen garden, tomatoes and olives instead of rocks, salad dressing instead of sand, raking little designs with my fork.
                  “My face put you off your food?” he asked casually.
                  “Your face is nowhere near as offensive as your sour mouth.”
                  He laughed, his voice low and guttural, like the sound of rocks breaking on one another. “Read the Hel Cycle. You can bet your enemies have.” He got up, shoving the last bit of the gyro in his mouth.
                  “How about you save me the time? Seven labors or some shit? What’s the first one?”
                  “Why should I help you?” One dark slash of an eyebrow turned down as he narrowed his eyes, the other side where the burned flesh was unable to hold any expression.
                  “You said it yourself. The sooner I ascend, the sooner you can kill me. Take my heart. Whatever.” I shrugged.
                  “The first quest is to find the bridle for the eight-legged horse Sleipnir so you can travel between this world and Hel.”
                  “Fantastic. Where am I supposed to find that?”
                  “It’s your labor, not mine. Figure it out. Ask your daddy.”
                  “My daddy is as dead as your mommy,” I sneered.
                  He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say another damn word about my mother.”
                  I smiled and stabbed my fork through his thenar eminence, the rounded fleshy part where his thumb blended into his palm. To his credit, he didn’t make a sound, simply smiled back and released me before stalking out the door.
                  With my fork.
                  I motioned for the waiter and asked him to bring another plate of gyros for Richard and another fork for me.
                  When he came back, there was something on his