Lucian really didn't like this place. He was coming to realise that Cass couldn't smell that there was something wrong with it as he relaxed against Lucian's chest, his smaller frame so damn trusting of Lucian that it made his hearts want to beat out of his chest.
That, however, was not enough to put him at ease.
The place stank.
Stank of mold, mildew, rancid things, sex, drugs, and even death. It was heavy in the air. It might not have been a dungeon, but it felt as close as one could get without the grand entrance. This also hadn't been the smell that had greeted him when he'd scouted the location either.
It had to be these back rooms.
The next question was how Mr. Collins, the so-called hussy, had gotten access to these back rooms and the ability to book them? Had he used Cass' name? Or did Mr. Collins have more connections in this strange human world than Lucian gave the glasses-wearing man credit for?
