The pause of her body told that she realized what she revealed, but she went on the offensive. “You had to know. I’m Guild. At least for me it was only in contained situations. I was never in any danger.”
Contained? Being near things that used torture and death like foreplay before they did so much worse, and now Nalah and he might be facing that here? “Yeah, well this situation sure as fuck ain’t contained, and you’re telling me something here’s so strong it’s messing with you inside a place that’s supposed to stop magic? This stops now. We’re gone.”
Her long fingers curled around his forearm as he started past her to pack their belongings. “That won’t happen, and the days of you telling me what I will and won’t do never existed, so don’t think they start now. This is what I have to do.”
Underneath her pissed-off attitude existed something else. It was there in the shaky way she held herself, in the pleading mixed with the attitude. She was desperate to remain. “Why do you have to stay? We get out, you tell the Guild everything you know to this point, maybe it’s enough they can get other people in action. They got a thief here already.”
“And he needs me.”
Her attitude was pure stubbornness, something she always had in abundance. “What’s going on? What are you hiding from me? And don’t lie or I swear I will go to Beylor now and drop out.”
With those words, her body half crumpled on itself as she sagged forward, her hands reaching out to steady herself on the kitchen table. “What Beylor has…it’s my mom’s ring.”
She couldn’t mean…? “What?”
“The one with the red stone. I always wore it on the chain around my neck.” She swallowed, looked very obviously not at him. “The one I wanted to have as my wedding ring when I got married. That’s what Beylor has.”
“You’re telling me your ring is some big-time magical item? What does it do?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and as he was about to lash out, she looked up and held out her hands in a pleading gesture. She drew a deep breath, went into what he always dubbed ‘story mode’. “I never got a chance to tell you, but the ring got stolen by that pawnbroker on Third right before Jac died. When I went to get the ring back I met the Guild. They were there for the ring, and they were the ones who told me it was magic. Said if I wanted it back I had to train with them. What it does is still a mystery to me. I haven’t gotten strong enough to break through its magic.”
“Doesn’t make sense they’d send you after it without telling you about it. And that still doesn’t explain what Beylor’s doing with it.”
Her fingers wiggled, like she wanted something she could write with to illustrate her point. “The biggest protection for any magical item is no one knowing what it does. Because the possibilities are near infinite, people can spend years on even a medium-level item trying to find out what magic it contains. But once you know what an item does, it’s only a matter of time before you control the item. The Guild can’t take the risk of that information getting out, so since I don’t know already, they aren’t going to enlighten me. As for Beylor-” She broke off, looked him straight in the eye, serious and strong and with nothing of the little girl in her he always strove to protect. “If I answer that question, this has to remain between us.”
“You have my word.”
A nod to acknowledge him, and pleasure buried itself in his bones with that quick acceptance. Even with everything that lay between them, she still took him at his word. “Not long ago, Guild headquarters was attacked. When that happened, beyond killing a lot of people, the attackers broke into a vault that held the most powerful magical items in the Realms and stole a good number of them. The Guild counterattacked not long after and got some back, but you can imagine in that chaos how many items were bundled off by different lowlifes. They were able to track my mother’s ring to Beylor.”
“And that magic tonight? It’s after the ring?”
“I think it’s a very likely possibility. Whatever is out there is strong, and by definition anything in that vault is going to interest powerful people. Besides, what else could they be here for?”
“If they’re that sick, it might be they want to watch the Tour and let albino boy tear through the fighters.”
The odds of that were pretty low, but Nalah went slack-faced at his words. “What do you mean? As in killing them? Beylor wouldn’t allow that. They’d be disqualified.”
Esh had kept her from the worst parts of the fighting world, but she couldn’t be that naïve to not realize that was a possibility. “You’re kidding. Half the people here are for the bloodshed.”
“No, I thought…it’s about prestige, the best of the best fighting. I was never told…” Her eyes were wide and horrified. She collapsed into the chair, wiping her hand over her mouth, her brow furrowed as she absorbed the words. “I would never have asked you to come if I’d realized.”
“Like I have anything to fear.” But Nalah didn’t move, the vague horror of her expression not changing. “Seriously didn’t know?”
“Of course I didn’t.” Vague horror turned to indignation. “I don’t lie.”
“No, you run.”
Fuck if he meant to say those words, but now they were out and he was glad, meant or not.
She shot him a filthy glare, jerking up from the seat. “I don’t want to talk about that. We have other things going on now.”
“Convenient. I thought you were all about the closure.” The words were tumbling forth, unstoppable. “It’s only closure when you get to tell me how fucked up I did, right? Not going to hear my side?”
Nalah smiled, her mouth sharp-edged and ready to tear through him. “What is it you’re going to tell me? You’re upset he died? I fucking know that. He was your best friend. Didn’t stop you from turning him away when he needed help.”
“You got no clue what I went through, because I kept everything away from you so you wouldn’t worry or see what an ass he was.” Memories bombarded, the love and hate for Jac that were so mixed up in him, those last few months, when his soul brother kept fucking up and he kept trying to stop it. “Do you know how many hours I worked with him to make him better? How many times I stepped in when he couldn’t work a fight? How many fucking times I begged him to never get involved with those assholes?”
“Then why didn’t you do it one last time?”
She just never fucking gave up. “Because if I stepped in it would have put you in danger, and as much as I loved him, there’s nothing in this world that would ever make me sacrifice you.”
“Me in danger?” Her lip rose, nose wrinkling as if the statement was so dumbass, she had no idea how to process it.
More than anything, it was that look that pissed him off. That look that said she had no clue his actions were from anything except pure selfishness. “Fuck yeah, you in danger! What do you think would have happened if I’d bailed Jac out? They would have known it wasn’t because of Jac – I’d already said I wasn’t covering any more of his losses. They would have looked to his pretty little sister and wondered why I’m suddenly helping Jac out of a fucking mess and why I’m never with any other woman but her, and they would have pieced it together. And if they’d pieced it together, known I’d helped him to protect you? Your life would have been forfeit. You wouldn’t know peace again.”
They were both breathing hard. He turned to look out the window, watching the evening sun shining over the tops of the trees. “And then you were gone. Nothing. No one knew shit. You left me without a whisper, and all I had was a dead best friend and my woman missing. Do you know how scared I was? Do you have any fucking clue how scared-” and for the first time his voice broke, choked up, and he gritted his teeth hard, pushed air down through the constricted muscles of his chest and back so he could take a deep breath, because fuck if this was going to control him.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” Her voice was soft, tentative, all edges gone and pure sorrow throughout. “It wasn’t to hurt you. I wasn�
��t myself, and I couldn’t think or consider anything, not even what you might be going through.”
He swallowed the rough emotion, the swell behind his eyes. “Letting me know you weren’t dead? That would’ve been too much?”
“At the time? Yes.”
A short snap of humorless laughter escaped him. “And yet I’m the asshole.”
“When I came to myself later, I was going to tell you.” An unsteady hand brushed his shoulder, the touch unsure of its welcome, while the voice that accompanied it pleaded to be heard. “I really was. I would never have left you like that. But when I said I wanted to contact you, Laire told me she’d taken care of it and let you know I was alive and taken care of. Maybe it was the coward’s way, but I didn’t press after that.”
“Three days after you disappeared, I got a note. At the time, I thought it was from you. It made it clear you weren’t coming back.”
Her hand left him and her voice grew faint, a note of begging twirling around her words. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry I put you through that.”
Esh pushed away from the window, not looking at her as he set for the bedroom. “How’s that closure working for you?”
Chapter Ten
‡
The first fights were starting, and Nalah wasn’t there to watch Esh.
It had been by mutual, unspoken decision, come to as they’d worked around the apartment with awkward jerks and split-second stops so to not touch each other. For the first time, her presence would be more hindrance than help, and Esh couldn’t lose in these first rounds. Beyond the toll it would take on his reputation, it was only after today’s fights that the real festivities would begin, where Nalah would have access to Beylor’s home and Tiffany would start wearing the brag-worthy pieces of her collection.
Once again, she was with the other women, a surprising number of whom weren’t going to watch their men.
Tiffany snorted. “Why would they? It’s boring. I only go on the last day because it’s expected.”
They were alone for the moment, Tiffany wanting girl time with Nalah. Nalah picked up the drink Tiffany had brought for her, the smell of alcohol strong even this early in the morning. “I love watching Esh fight.”
Tiffany near purred before she took a big gulp from her own glass. “I’d definitely make an exception if I was cheering him. But if that’s the way it is, why aren’t you there today?”
“He told me not to bother, the real fights don’t begin until round two anyway.”
“He’s right. Most of the guests don’t go until second round either. I asked Bey why he doesn’t cut it in half, but he said day one is good for the bloodlust crowd and he makes a fair amount in bets.”
Tiffany rattled off the explanation like it was no big deal. Why hadn’t Nalah realized in asking Esh to fight, she was asking him to put himself in the way of people who wanted not just to fight, but to kill him? Or that he might have to kill in order to keep himself protected? He was a fighter, and she had no doubt he’d kill if he had to, but that wasn’t his nature. It was one of the reasons he was so careful in choosing his own fights, to prevent that. How could she have been that stupid?
Because Esh always kept you away from the worst. You might talk big, but you still have this almost romantic version of the fights. Fucking traitorous inner voice, making her feel smaller than she had last night and so young. She’d always felt old, starting even before her mom died when she was seven. But these last few days, she felt young and stripped, facing all her poor decisions and coming away shamed.
A chill wind of magic blew through, a hint of power, subtle, amorphous. Nalah pulled herself from her thoughts, looking around in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion to find the source.
Through the room came a being more porcelain doll than flesh-and-blood woman. Her silvery-white hair was pinned up in the front but the near knee-length mass flowed down her back in perfect curls, falling over shoulders bared by her red corseted gown, her skin almost the same color as her hair. Refined features, a little rosebud mouth, an aristocratic, pouty slant to her cheekbones and jaw, and her eyes…
Pure midnight black, save a pinprick of white in the center. They didn’t reflect the surrounding light; they absorbed it, turning all to darkness within them.
Tiffany shivered and Nalah fought to prevent herself from joining in. The newcomer was touched with the same magic the albino had been. Whatever evil was present here, she was part of it. The magic was building at the base of her head, pounding into her shields like waves rolling into breakers.
The woman didn’t look around, but Nalah had the gut deep certainty she was being studied. No one spoke or moved until the woman left the room.
Conversation began after several minutes, low and halting, as if everyone were waiting to see if the doll-woman came back. Nalah leaned over and spoke to Tiffany in similar low tones. “Who is that?”
“Everyone calls her The Pale Lady.” Tiffany spoke the name with reverential terror, and Nalah could hear the capitalization of the words. “Bey says he doesn’t know why she’s here, that she’s never come to any of the Tours before. I don’t think he’s happy she’s here, but he never says anything out loud.”
She wasn’t vampire. The magic was close, but not quite.
More worrying was the fact that this was her first Tour. Even as Esh put forward the theory last night that maybe the dark magic was here to satiate bloodlust with the Tour, she could tell by his tone he was doubtful about it. But with Tiffany’s info, doubtful became not applicable, and that meant this Pale Lady was after the magic ring.
Nalah was about to make an excuse to leave when one of the Tiffany clones bounced in, excitement in every overexaggerated feature. “Omigods, you’ll never believe it! Nalah, you missed your man!”
Nalah began to say “What did I miss?” but excitement girl began talking in rushed sentences before Nalah was even half-finished. “Esh’s turn, right? And he looks at the three other fighters in his block, and he goes and says, ‘I’ll fight them all at once. They aren’t worth any more of my time.’ Like, he really says that, he’s just going to fight them all! And everyone’s yelling, and those other fighters were so pissed, and they said sure.”
Tiffany put a hand on the woman. “Sweetie, sweetie, slow down. Esh fought three other fighters at the same time?”
“Gods yes! And they all ganged up on him, because of course they would, he so insulted them by doing that, and. Esh. Won! Can you believe that? Three fighters at once, and then he just left without saying anything.”
Nalah was out the door and down the stairs and across the uneven pavement and back in her apartment before thought caught up to her. Only when she saw Esh sitting in the chair, his head leaning back across the top and his eyes closed, did she remember last night and why he might not be happy to see her.
Esh’s eyes opened and he moved his head to the side to see her, though he didn’t lift it from where it rested. “News travels.”
“You’re the talk of the women.” She stepped in front of him, his gaze and head following her. “Everyone is very impressed. I’m sure you’re going to be stalked tonight.”
“You know me, I live for the limelight.”
Each of her twenty-two years mocked her for her inexperience right now. As she stood before him, Nalah catalogued the lines and scars and the bone-deep something each plane of his body displayed, all of which told how he lived on the front lines.
She didn’t know what she was doing, but it was time to take steps forward, make experiences, no matter if they were ultimately mistakes.
Her body trembling, Nalah moved forward, one step, then two, until she was before him, until she climbed onto the chair with her legs straddling his, until her face was close enough that mouths could meet and tongues could tangle together.
His skin bordered on fever-hot, kindling a matching fire in her, a desire to burrow into that warmth and let it engulf her. Strong, calloused fingers stroked over her jaw and throat,
turning her head so he could deepen the kiss, meet her eager mouth in the longer strokes she craved.
Nalah may have been on top, but Esh controlled, only letting her move where he allowed, deepen the kisses and touches to where he desired them. She growled, and in defiance twisted her hips, the movement grinding her ass against his rock-hard cock.
“Fuck!” The exclamation was torn from him in a pained outburst and his hands shot out around her hips, halting the movement.
Not that it stopped her. She changed from twisting to a rolling motion, and his stuttered groan told he might even like that one more.
“Don’t do that. You are not making me a minute-man.”
A giggle burst from her, because right now his hair was in disarray and he looked both horny and pissed with a good bit of amused thrown in, and this man right here was the one she thought she’d spend all her life with, and it was so good to see him again.
He grumbled, but his own lips turned up in a smile before he leaned up and began attacking her neck, pressing against her those open-mouthed kisses that got her going but had everyone snickering around her the next day. She pulled his head back. “Nuh-uh, no marking.”
“But I like you marked.” As if to support his words, he made for her neck, only her hold keeping him back.
“Then mark me in other ways.” Nalah meant it to come out sexy, but her voice still had that breathless laughing quality, and Esh’s eyes lit up.
“That’s a challenge I’ll take any day,” he said, a wide grin, the first she had seen since they reunited, giving his face a near-boyish quality. Her heart stuttered to see that look on him again. “Let’s see, where to begin…”
He worked the buttons of her shirt, ignoring her slapping hand and her, “Hey! I didn’t say you could do that!” To distract her – the cheating bastard – he stretched up to capture her mouth in another kiss, and what a happy discovery to learn you could still kiss reasonably well through giggles.
In retaliation she went for his chest, which didn’t have a shirt covering it, but instead was left bare, and wasn’t it great that Esh had sensitive nipples? With a firm stroke she rubbed her thumbs over the hard brown points, eliciting another growl and the loss of a few buttons as her shirt was torn from her.
The Cage King Page 7
