Chapter 5
The black market was bigger than I expected.
Too loud. Too crowded. Too many cages. Too many beautiful faces behind metal bars, too many scents in the air, too many merchants shouting over one another.
I clutched the bag of pearls so hard my fingers hurt.
The man selling beastmen at the far end of the market had a thick beard and greedy eyes. The second he saw the pearls, those eyes lit up.
“What kind are you after, sweetheart?”
I looked past him at the rows and rows of men and swallowed.
“I want someone strong,” I said. “Gentle. Warm at night. Good-tempered.”
He barked out a laugh.
“Sweetheart, that’s the minimum requirement. You’re describing a standard domestic beastman.”
My smile came out thin.
That stung more than it should have.
After all, the one I had brought home was none of those things.
“Then maybe…” I hesitated. “A dog type?”
“Heard they’re obedient?” he guessed, amused.
I shrugged awkwardly.
He led me farther back through the market, introducing one beastman after another, but my eyes glazed over after the first few cages.
Then I saw him.
Green eyes.
Deep, rich green, framed by lashes too pretty for any man to have. He stood inside his cage with one hand curled around the bars, staring at me in a way that made my heartbeat skip.
The instant our eyes met, his expression changed.
His ears—fox ears, a vivid reddish gold—drooped just a little. His large fluffy tail swayed behind him. His gaze went from seductive to soft in a blink, like he had transformed from dangerous to helpless just for me.
I stopped walking.
The bearded merchant followed my line of sight and grinned.
“Oh, that one? You’ve got good taste. That’s my best fox. Beautiful, well-mannered, expensive.”
I looked away at once.
“Then not him.”
The last thing I needed was another creature too costly for me to keep.
But before the merchant could turn, the fox reached through the bars, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him close.
They argued in low, rapid voices.
I caught only pieces.
Are you serious?
Use your own money then—
The fox shoved something into the merchant’s hand.
The merchant’s face went from outraged to resigned in a blink.
Then he came back smiling too widely.
“Lucky day for you,” he said. “Store treasure on sale.”
I was still trying to understand what was happening when the fox opened his own cage, stepped out gracefully, and took my hand like he belonged there.
The comments exploded.
Top-tier fox beastman.
That’s not bad luck. That’s insane luck.
No, he chose her.
He literally bought himself and walked out.
I stared at our joined hands all the way out of the market.
Only after we were outside did it hit me.
“You… bought yourself?”
He smiled.
It was devastating.
“I saw you,” he said. “I decided I liked my chances better with you.”
That was not a normal thing to say to a stranger.
Which meant, clearly, my luck with beastmen remained questionable.
Still holding my hand, he walked beside me down the road as if we had known each other for years.
“My name’s Rowan,” he said. “But if I’m coming home with you, I should probably take your last name. Rowan Carter. Sounds right, doesn’t it?”
My face flamed.
I nearly tripped over my own feet.
He crouched a little so we were eye level, his voice low and warm. “What should I call you?”
“Ellie,” I managed.
He smiled again.
“Then Ellie, I’m easy to keep. I won’t be a burden. And I won’t leave.”
The last four words hit unexpectedly hard.
I glanced away before he could see it on my face.
After a while, I took a breath and decided honesty was better.
“My house is poor,” I said. “Really poor. And I had a beastman before.”
He was quiet for half a beat.
Then, “Is he still there?”
The hurt in me flared fresh.
“No,” I said. “He left. I couldn’t take care of him properly. And… he didn’t like me.”
Rowan looked at the swelling on the back of my hand.
He did not ask any more questions.
He only lifted my injured hand carefully into his and rubbed his thumb over it with impossible gentleness.
“I’m not hard to keep,” he said again. “And I like you very much already.”
I did not mean to tear up.
But I did.
By the time we got home, it was dark.
I was halfway through awkwardly explaining the state of the house when I pushed the door open and froze.
The tub was full again.
Adrian was in it.
And not only was he back, he was proudly holding a jar of bruise ointment in one hand and a rag in the other.
The floor had been cleaned.
The room smelled faintly of medicine.
He looked up, saw me, and smiled smugly.
“Ellie, I bought you ointment,” he began. “And I mopped twice. So if you ever tell me to go ba—”
His voice died.
Because he had finally seen Rowan standing beside me.
The room turned dead silent.
Then the comments lost their minds.
Love triangle.
Oh no.
Oh this is catastrophic.
I stood there like an idiot, my brain completely empty.
Adrian’s gaze went to Rowan’s hand on mine.
Then to Rowan’s face.
Then back to me.
“Who,” he said, each word shaking, “is that?”