The room upstairs in The Velvet Lantern was smaller than Garret expected, but warmer. Lanterns with red glass cast a soft glow over a wide bed piled with cushions that actually looked comfortable. Incense smoke curled lazily from a brass burner in the corner, mixing with the scent of clean linen and something sweet like honeyed wine.
The woman with the dark curls closed the door behind them and turned the key with a soft click. She leaned against it for a moment, studying him with a small, knowing smile. Her name was Lira — she'd told him downstairs between pours. Mid-twenties, maybe, with warm brown skin, full lips, and eyes that had clearly seen every type of man who wandered through Cragmore's south edge.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked, voice low and a little amused. She stepped closer, hips swaying with practiced ease. "Most men who come up here are either bragging about their last fight or trying to impress me with coin they don't have."
Garret shrugged, already kicking off his boots. The new body felt heavier with the good alcohol buzzing through it — not sloppy drunk, just pleasantly loose. His scar itched faintly under the lantern light. "Not much worth bragging about. I chased off a boar earlier. That's the highlight of my week."
Lira laughed softly, a real sound, not the polished one she probably used on most customers. "I heard. The whole street was talking about the farmer with the mean face who stared it down with a pitchfork. You've got a reputation, Garret Mole."
"Great," he muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Exactly what I wanted."
She moved in front of him, fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, following the jagged scar. Her touch was warm, confident. "This one's old. Looks like it hurt. Want to tell me the story?"
"Not really." Garret caught her wrist gently, not pulling away but not encouraging either. The body reacted faster than his brain — a low heat stirring low in his gut that felt new and familiar at the same time. This frame was younger, stronger in ways his old one never was. "Look, I'm not here for deep conversation. Or hero stories. Just… this."
Lira's smile softened. She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "Good. I like simple. Makes things easier."
She kissed him then — slow at first, testing. Garret let himself respond, hands settling on her waist. She was soft where it counted, curves pressing against him as she climbed onto his lap. The kiss deepened, turning hungry. Her fingers worked at the laces of his tunic, pushing the rough fabric off his shoulders. He helped, shrugging it off, then tugged at the thin silk she wore until it slipped down her arms.
Skin against skin felt better than it had any right to in this weird new life. Her breasts were full and warm against his chest. Garret's hands roamed, one sliding up her back, the other gripping her hip. The alcohol made everything hazy and sharp at once — the taste of her mouth, the way she shivered when he nipped at her neck, the soft sound she made when his fingers found the heat between her legs.
"You're rougher than you look," Lira murmured against his mouth, grinding slowly against him. Her hand slipped between them, stroking him through his trousers until he was fully hard. "But not cruel. I like that."
"Trying not to be," Garret grunted. He flipped them with surprising ease — this body had strength he hadn't tested much yet. Lira landed on her back with a breathless laugh, legs parting as he settled between them. He took his time, mouth on her breasts, tongue teasing until her back arched. When he finally pushed inside her, it was slow and deep, drawing a low moan from both of them.
The rhythm built naturally. No grand performance, just the simple, sweaty press of bodies. Lira wrapped her legs around his waist, nails digging lightly into his shoulders as she met his thrusts. "Harder," she whispered. "I won't break."
Garret obliged, hips snapping forward. The bed creaked under them. Pleasure coiled tight and hot, chasing away the last bits of his constant low-level exhaustion. For a few minutes there was nothing but the slick slide, her gasps, his rough breathing, the faint slap of skin.
He came first, groaning into her neck as the release hit hard. Lira followed right after, clenching around him with a shuddering sigh, fingers tangled in his unkempt hair.
They stayed like that for a minute, catching their breath. Garret rolled off her eventually, staring at the ceiling while the pleasant buzz settled into comfortable tiredness.
Lira propped herself on one elbow, tracing idle patterns on his chest. "You're different from most who come through here. No big talk afterward. No pretending this means something."
He gave a lazy chuckle. "Lady, I died once already. Woke up in this ugly mug farming dirt. I'm just trying to enjoy the small stuff before the world decides to drag me into its mess."
She raised an eyebrow, curious but not pushing. "Died, huh? Sounds like a story."
"Not one worth telling tonight." Garret reached over, pulling her closer so her head rested on his shoulder. The body felt good — sated, warm, not aching nearly as much as his old one would have after a night like this. "You do this every night?"
"Most nights," Lira said quietly. "Pays better than scrubbing floors or dodging monster raids. And sometimes… sometimes the company's decent." She paused, then added with a small smirk, "Like tonight."
Downstairs, faint music and laughter filtered up. Garret wondered vaguely what Sable was doing — her "lead" or whatever quiet business she was handling. He didn't ask. Didn't care enough to get involved.
Lira's fingers drifted lower, teasing again. "We've got the room until morning if you want round two. Or we can just talk. Or sleep. Your coin, your choice."
Garret considered it. The new world had thrown him a bone tonight — decent ale, a willing woman, a body that didn't quit on him halfway through. For the first time since waking up in the dirt, he felt almost… settled.
He pulled her in for another kiss, slower this time.
"Round two sounds good," he said against her mouth. "Then maybe sleep. Tomorrow I've got weeds to half-ignore and a kid to disappoint."
Lira laughed softly as she shifted on top of him again, guiding him back inside her with a satisfied hum.
For tonight, at least, the apocalypse could wait.
End of Chapter 5