Read Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr for Free Online

had once cloaked her had dramatically faded. In fact, it had all but disappeared.
    He stepped back from her. Seven hells! It wasn’t she after all!
    If he stayed by her side any longer, society would have him engaged to her no matter what his preference. His mind racing, he drew her into the flock of her friends, who quickly included her in their midst.
    The gypsy fortuneteller. It had to be.
    But King Feydon had claimed he’d bedded a highborn woman, not a gypsy. Had the girl fallen on hard times?
    His chin lifted, and he searched the wind. There it was. The very faintest hint—the merest thread of Faerie spice.
    Eyes narrowed, he scanned the grounds, questing, and found the formal entrance at the north end of the gardens. There. The arch of glass over the walkway. The very portal through which the fortuneteller had recently fled. With her departure, the scent of Faerie had fled as well.
    Abruptly he excused himself from Signorina Rossini and the cluster of guests. He ignored the almost unanimous start of surprise at his curt withdrawal. Features honed with determination, he began his hunt anew.
    Outside the garden gate, he trod the expanses of lawn, passing the occasional fountain or pond. Beyond, when the greenery turned to the paving stones of a thoroughfare, he instinctively headed toward the Aniene River.
    He caught sight of the fortuneteller again some distance ahead, scampering over the wide uneven bricks underfoot. She traveled alone, foolish girl. It was a fashionable area, but she could easily find herself in trouble in the nooks and crannies of these twisting streets.
    Now and then she became lost from his sight, for she had nearly a fifty-yard lead on him. But his gait was longer than hers, and he easily gained ground.
    Occasionally she glanced back as though sensing his pursuit. He kept to the shadows, hidden.
    After some blocks, he saw her enter an ironwork gate leading to a private town house. From an alley across the lane, he assessed the dwelling and found it well kept and luxurious, though unostentatious. Was it that of her family, or was she a guest in another’s household? Or a servant? Was she already wed? Would her relatives prove difficult?
    So many questions, and no answers to be had this night.
    In ElseWorld, Satyrs sought their mates in a more forthright manner than was the custom of Human society. Unfortunately that meant he couldn’t follow her inside and take her with him tonight.
    Fortunately he could display infinite patience when it was required. Tomorrow he would visit his attorney and determine the nature of her family. Their financial circumstances and social standing would inform him regarding how best to proceed.
    Briefly he wondered at the danger to her person about which King Feydon had hinted. The house she’d entered appeared innocuous, like dozens of others along the street. However, he had more than a passing acquaintance with the secrets that ordinary stone walls could conceal.
    The clatter of carriage wheels drew his attention. A portly man sat in the passing open-air coach, his eyes closed and an expression of agonized delight on his face.
    When his conveyance hit a pothole, a flustered feminine head popped up from between his sausage thighs. Her hair was mussed and her lips moist. For a moment, her glance tangled with Nick’s. She boldly eyed the swell of his crotch and winked.
    A prostitute. A very comely one. He smiled his admiration, and she smiled back. Then, with resignation, her head ducked over the signore’s lap once again, and the carriage rattled out of sight.
    With no more reason to linger, Nick slipped back to the garden and hailed his private coach. His physical needs could be denied no longer.
    Overhead, clouds had gathered and thickened, obscuring starlight. But the heavy tautness in his loins told him the moon was waxing. It was a dangerous time for one such as he to be without a woman for so long.
    The Calling would occur three days hence, at Moonful, as