by RJ Blain
“You’re right. My family’s cursed, and unless the curse is broken, the line ends with me and my cousin. You can open doors for me—doors currently closed. That bracelet is my insurance policy. Please believe me when I tell you I don’t enjoy this, but as long as you help me, I’ll take it off—after the curse is broken.”
I unsheathed my claws and dug them into his pretty grass, tearing at the dirt. “And here I thought you had a poor relationship with your family.”
“I do, but that doesn’t change anything. They’re my family. If I want a family of my own, I need to break the curse.”
Everything circled back to my initial impression. For Malcolm, his dream was to have a family, and he longed for what he couldn’t have. I wouldn’t betray my suspicions yet. Lifting my left paw, I displayed the bracelet. “What good does this do for you?”
“There’s someone I know with an interest in mythos—personal interest. She’s a knowledge trader, and she specializes in curses. In exchange for a blood sample and a questioning session, she might be able to point me in the direction of someone who can break my family’s curse—or at least help me identify it.”
If his specialist was being honest, the first place she’d direct Malcolm was hell and its lord. Without any effort of my own, I’d found myself jammed between a rock and a hard place, and not even the nice, muscular type of hardness capable of getting a girl in a lot of trouble in a hurry.
Head to toe, Malcolm had more than his fair share of hard muscles, and I couldn’t even blame drugged me for repeated bed invasions.
Still, I needed to sound offended. His ploy disgusted me, but it also amused and impressed me. Cat-like ruthlessness never failed to catch my attention, and he’d beaten me at my own game.
“You want to use me as a test subject.” I even managed to make scorn drip out of my voice when I wanted to throw back my head and laugh.
The bastard had gotten me good, and damn it, I respected him for his cunning.
“No, not a test subject! It’s for knowledge. If she wants more than a blood sample and asking you questions, she’s going to owe you and me far more than some pointers about curse lore. No, under no circumstances will I allow anyone to use you as a test subject. You’ll only be asked to donate a small sample of blood and tell her everything you can about your species. I’ll be paying you for the inconvenience as well.”
At the rate people kept wanting to pay me for things I really didn’t want to do, retirement would be a realistic possibility. Had the devil guessed what Malcolm would do?
Probably.
I sighed. “You could’ve just asked for my help.”
The smug bastard smiled. “I could have, but then I would’ve robbed us both of an interesting game. I want to see what you’ll do.”
Maybe the devil hadn’t wanted to barter for my soul because he had foreseen how my life would become a living hell. Why bother stealing my soul when he could torment me? I’d have to thank him for limiting his evil to while I still drew breath.
I almost felt sorry for Malcolm; I suspected his specialist friend knew more about sphinxes than I did, including my potential lifespan. Death seemed rather nice, as I’d escape all the nuisances in my life. No devil, no evil aunt with ideas to sell me off to perverted men, no obnoxious clients, and no men like Malcolm.
Was an afterlife without pretty, stubborn, and infuriating men like Malcolm a heaven or a hell? I’d have to think about it. The cat in me said hell. The sane, logical woman in me said heaven.
As long as I wore the damned bracelet, however, the cat side of me might enjoy certain luxuries. Malcolm might find himself with an unwanted ‘sleepwalking’ bed invader as punishment for daring to shackle me. Stealing his warmth would only be the beginning of my revenge.
If he wanted to play, I’d play. “You think this is a game?”
“Yes, I do. It’s two birds with one stone, really. It’s serious, but it’s a game as well. I win either way. I have a chance to break my family’s curse while getting a good look of what you’re made of. You said it yourself. You can only shift, so the bracelet shouldn’t hurt you.”
The man dared to use my own twisted logic on me, which vexed me almost as much as his smug smile. He’d pay for that, too.
Only one thing separated us in our way of thinking: I wouldn’t have done it for my family. I’d been abandoned once, and when that hadn’t been enough to erase me as the family shame, I’d been put up for sale like a broodmare. No, if I were in his shoes, I’d need a different motivation. I could respect him for his desire, though.
Sometimes, late at night and after a few too many drinks, I thought about what it might be like to be a part of a good family—one of my choosing. I’d have to stop drifting, hang up my hat as a wandering mercenary, and settle down, but a girl could dream.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder about what he said. “Why do you care what I’ll do?”
“Because I do.”
I lashed my tail and shredded his grass some more. “What sort of dumb answer is that?”
“I find you interesting.”
Boys and their toys. Why did I have to be the current toy of the hour? Ugh. I could make the most of the situation, and I’d be in a better position to win the devil’s wager. Ah, good old silver linings in my storm clouds. Whenever I looked hard enough, I could find one. “Fine. You should strip this crap out of my hair, take off my usekh, and let me shift back to human.”
“But you’re so pretty as a sphinx.”
“I like having hands, Malcolm.”
He sighed. “And your sworn word you’ll help me break my family’s curse?”
If only he knew about my wager with the devil. “I swear I’ll do everything in my power to break your family’s curse.”
“Shall we take this inside, then?”
I snarled curses at him, took flight, and winged my way to his house. First, I’d get mad. Once I worked through my rage, I’d get even. I’d plan my first bed invasion for in a few days , after I recovered from the embarrassment of my drugged sleepwalking. Maybe I’d wait a few weeks. I had two months and three weeks to discover his family’s secrets. A few weeks meant he wouldn’t expect me slipping into his bed to steal his warmth and make him uncomfortable with my presence. Malcolm had said as much. He wanted to test me.
The game was on, and I wouldn’t lose to him again.
I would never admit to enjoying Malcolm fussing with my hair. Hell would freeze over first, the heavens would burst into flames, and the devil and his estranged relatives would kiss and make up long before I confessed how much I enjoyed his attention. When I had asked him to strip the gold and jewels from my hair, I hadn’t expected him to interpret my request as an excuse to brush out my fur, too.
I wished I could purr.
Malcolm dug his fingers deep into the fur between my wings and scratched. Had I been on my paws, I would’ve melted to the tiles. Later, I’d be grateful for my inability to purr, as I would’ve embarrassed myself even more.
“All right. Try to shift.” Untangling his hand from my fur, he took a stepped back and spoke the word Hagnar had taught me, his smug smile fixed in place.
I looked forward to the day I changed his expression to one of shock and surprise. The temptation to deny him froze me in place for several breaths, but duty, determination, and practicality won the battle; I liked having hands, which would make my task much simpler. Snarling a few choice profanities, I transformed. It took longer than I liked and hurt far more than I expected. It was painful enough I whimpered before I could stop myself. Instead of human flesh, I embodied Bastet in her full glory, my fur glossy and thick. Lifting my hands, I touched my head, fearing the worst.
Hair. I had hair, and while it wasn’t as long as I liked, resembling a mane more than anything else, I wouldn’t be ashamed to go out in public. With the help of some extensions plus the silver, gold, and jewels I’d pilfered from my other form, I’d be able to trick most into believing I’d made a f
ull recovery from my burning. As though my magic pandered to Malcolm’s desires, I wore a white kalasiris overlaid with a blue, gold, and silver strands of beads. In modern society, gold surpassed silver, but in the old days, when the pharaohs had ruled Egypt, silver represented wealth and nobility.
The silver hooded cobra coiling around my upper arm alone would’ve marked me as a member of a wealthy family. The wrist cuffs, made of silver, carnelian, and lapis lazuli, branded me as nobility.
I found it ironic that I sought an end to a curse, a gypsy’s art, but my magic insisted on embracing my Egyptian heritage.
Behind me, Malcolm spoke the word to suppress my magic. Curling my lip up in a snarl, I spun to face him. “Happy now?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Were compliments a man’s base defense mechanism against an angry woman? It occurred to me that for many centuries in Egypt, women often exposed their breasts, as practicality had ruled over modesty, a rather modern convention. Sucking in a breath, I checked my dress, then heaved a relieved sigh. My magic, fortunately, had accounted for more modern sensibilities, and while my kalasiris skirted the line of decency, it covered everything important.
“You’re delusional.” I picked up my usekh from the vanity and secured it around my throat. “Complimenting me isn’t going to win you anything. I already agreed to help you, so you’re wasting your breath.”
He smiled. “You’re just angry I bested you.”
While true, I glowered at him. “You could’ve hired me.”
“I could have, but then I’d worry someone might pay you more. That’s the problem with mercenaries. Money comes above all else. Can you really blame me? This is too important to leave to chance.”
I lifted my chin. “So, my species is the only reason why?”
“Of course not. You’re skilled. You showed me that the night you got the jump on me and kidnapped me. There has to be a reason my cousin wanted you. If you’re in my corner, I’ll have the upper hand. Originally, I was going to have you look into my cousin and uncle, but when a chance to end my family’s curse comes calling, I’m taking advantage of it. I’m sorry.”
With him, family would always come first and meant more than anything else. I couldn’t understand it. To me, family meant fear and nightmares, and while I held the hazy dream of having one founded on love, the terror of my youth remained.
To him, family meant so much more than blood.
To me, it meant slavery and nothing else.
“So, you have me. What are you planning to do with me now?”
His smile widened. “I’m taking you shopping. That outfit will be spectacular at the gala, but you’re going to need more appropriate attire for the rest of my plans. If any of your other clothing fits, get changed. We have a lot to do and little time.”
First he turned the tables on me, but then he decided to take me shopping? How ballsy could one man be?
I had the feeling I was about to find out.
Chapter Fourteen
Malcolm took me to an expensive boutique and didn’t care that I wore a pair of his sweats. Never in my life had I been so tempted to kill someone. Malcolm had absolutely no clue why waltzing into a store specializing in expensive women’s apparel while wearing clothes he’d probably sweated in might upset me.
That I liked the idea of him hot and sweaty only pissed me off even more, and I hoped the heat of my rage lit his ass on fire. To add insult to injury, from the instant we’d gotten into his car, he’d made it clear he meant to pay the bill.
“I can buy my own clothes,” I hissed, digging in my heels at the threshold into the store.
The pair of shoes in the window had red soles and cost several hundred dollars, and the infuriating man on a mission kept staring at them with an interested expression.
“Not only am I buying, I’m picking the clothes.” To confirm my suspicions, he pointed at the pretty black and red shoes with a heel so high I could use them as lethal weapons. “I don’t know what I’m buying, but it’s going to look amazing with those heels.”
“You’re a cretin.”
“I’m a cretin with a credit card and a love for your legs. A man gets this chance exactly once in his life, and I don’t mean to squander it.”
“You’re also a lunatic.”
He scowled at me. “Why would you say that?”
“Look at me!” I wailed, gesturing to the gray sweats he’d foisted on me the instant he’d realized I was either going as a full-blown Egyptian goddess or in a pair of shorts so short they didn’t even classify as underwear.
He loved the shorts but had confiscated them for home-use only.
When we got back to his house, I’d be introducing my claws to his jeans. I’d objectify his fine ass in equal measure and give him a taste of his own medicine. While I was at it, I’d teach him it was never acceptable to tell me what I could and couldn’t wear.
Even if it meant I got a free pair of black heels with cute little red soles I could wear as lethal weapons attached to my feet. I narrowed my eyes, leaning towards the display for a closer look at the price tag.
I had missed a zero at my first glance at the shoes. If he wanted them, he’d have to spend over a thousand dollars for them. I hadn’t had a pair of shoes with red soles before; my magic made shoes had matched my outfit, but they never had a brand—they just were.
“I am looking at you. You’re beautiful, and you deserve to be dressed in clothes worthy of you.”
He made it rather difficult to be offended when he dished out the compliments without any hint of hesitation; the ready, confident way he spoke rang of truth, and my unreasonable reactions to him only stoked my anger. Stealing my damned bracelets I’d used to kidnap him and using them on me was the final straw.
I’d pay him back for his cunning somehow. The dose of just desserts tasted sour, and not in the nice lemon meringue sort of way.
“You’re going to be ravishing when I’m finished with you. Stop being such a scaredy cat and go into the store. You need the clothes to do the job for me, and I’m not going to allow you to cut into your wages to replace your clothes. I’m paying the expenses. Get used to it, Kanika. I take my business obligations seriously, and you’re worth every penny.”
“You’re still a lunatic.”
“I’m a lunatic with a credit card and no limits. March, ma’am. I still have to get my costume dealt with, you need clothes so you’re not wearing my sweats, and I need to see your legs in those shoes.”
“Is there a reason you’re so fixated on my legs?”
“Those legs got me kidnapped.”
He had a very good point. I’d unashamedly used my legs against him, although in reality, I’d been showcasing my ass. Huh. In a few ways, I was being the unreasonable party; I had lured him into a trap wearing scandalously short shorts while bending over to display the goods to lure him into parking and lowering his guard.
“Who knew? I’m quite the asshole.” Admitting it made me feel much better—and it got me to step into the store.
A young woman stared from the counter, the only employee in the place, and her eyes widened. “Mr. Montgomery?”
Did everyone in Nashville know Malcolm?
“Hello, Patsy.” Malcolm planted his hands on my shoulders and marched me to the counter. “This is Kanika, and I need your help finding her clothes as beautiful as she is.”
I’d met enough men who looked me over like a piece of meat on the market to recognize when Patsy did it, and the brunette licked her lips like she’d just arrived at an all you can eat buffet. “You’ve given me a challenge, Mr. Montgomery.”
Once I got out of the boutique, assuming I survived the experience, I would have to ask why everyone in Nashville called him Mr. Montgomery. “I’m not—”
Malcolm covered my mouth with his hand. “She’d like to try on the black cocktail dress in the window with the black and red shoes.”
If he put me in all black, I’d end up looking like an
angel of death. Taking hold of his wrist, pulled his hand away. “Black fur, black dress, black shoes? Am I auditioning for a gothic event?”
“I like the color black.”
“Braindead male,” I muttered. “If it keeps you quiet and entertained, I’ll try on the dress.”
“It’ll keep me entertained, but I can’t promise I’ll be quiet.”
Fuming over my transformation from mercenary to model, I went with Patsy, grumbling over the dress designed for a succubus, accommodating her wings, and her tail. Fortunately, the designer hadn’t gone the low-back route, instead opting for a discreet slit and straps that worked with wings instead of accounting for them as a base necessity. If I shifted to my winged form, I’d appreciate that later. Patsy stuffed me into it, and the dress fit well enough I suspected someone—Malcolm—had been taking certain measurements.
I’d have to question him about that, too. Had he been undressing me with his eyes to get the estimate? If he had been, I’d toss basic decency to the four winds and enjoy the scenery a lot more openly than I had been in my effort to be civilized. With a few careful tugs, I situated the slick material and prepared to be objectified.
I stepped out of the dressing room with my ears flattened back, hissing at the object of my displeasure.
The object of my displeasure stared, blinked, and opened his mouth.
I waited, tapping my toes in the wickedly expensive shoes he’d forced on me. When I got tired of waiting, I turned around, and gave him a good show of my lashing tail to ensure he got the hint I wasn’t happy with my new job as model.
Silence.
I turned once more, and Malcolm straightened, his gaze sliding over me, swallowing several times. “I’m buying you that dress. Next.”
Patsy laughed and herded me back to the dressing rooms. “He’s so shy. It’s been a while since he’s been here, but he was quieter. Last time he hardly said a word and tried to avoid looking at the woman he was with. She didn’t seem to mind, since she was far more interested in her reflection and the price tag than what he was thinking. She wouldn’t let him pay the bill, either. How odd.”
