Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  Morgan leaned back and tapped him. “So tell me about the blonde. You said she wasn’t part of the crew?”

  The tray jiggled in Jelena’s hand as she turned her startled gaze to Morgan. She quickly regained her composure and strode toward them, rendering every man at the table speechless. Instead of the jutting, bird-like movements known for Pochasi, she moved with the sleek gracefulness of a Novan cat-woman.

  Gar whistled, breaking the spell.

  “Wait a minute!” Alrik threw down his cards. “You saw a woman on his bridge, and she wasn’t Guild? I don’t believe it.”

  Morgan nodded. “Pretty little thing. The top of her head barely reached the runt’s chin.”

  “Watch it, ugly,” Drake grumbled, his voice low.

  Chuckling, Galen accepted his mug from Jelena. “Wait until you hear this one. She’s—”

  Drake caught his eye and glanced at Jelena.

  “You think—”

  He nodded.

  Galen whistled.

  {What’s going on?}

  Drake winced. Morgan’s telepathic whisper always hurt. But at least he didn’t suffer the disorientating madness that used to come with it. “You wouldn’t believe me,” he whispered.

  “Must be his latest.” Gar laughed. “You know how tight-lipped he is about the women he’s bedding.”

  Jelena’s feathers ruffled as she set Drake’s mug in front of him. She recovered quickly, giving him an inviting look.

  He returned her stare. Maybe thinking he’d take her up on her offer would send her running home. “You staying?”

  “I might,” she said in a throaty purr—a purr that should have been a coo—and leaned over his shoulder to study his cards. Her soft, feathery hair brushed his cheek.

  “Come on over here, darlin. I’ve got a seat for you.” Alrik patted his lap, making the others chuckle.

  Jelena licked her lips and smiled seductively.

  Alrik groaned.

  Drake gritted his teeth.

  “I’m happy right here.” Her lips were so close he smelled the sweetness of her breath. She slid her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping lightly across the back of his head.

  He stifled a groan, and cursed his body’s immediate reaction, something she only had to look down to see. Damn it! Every time a woman touched him like that, he fell apart. He needed her gone. Now. But later—Later, he intended to see just how devoted she really was to this betrothed of hers.

  “Some other time.” The words were barely a whisper and far too strangled for his liking.

  Her soft regretful sigh didn’t match the stiffening of her spine, but at least she didn’t press the issue. Thank the gods.

  As she continued passing out the drinks on her tray, he realized maybe that had been her ploy all along—to be invited to stay where she could see and hear everything that went on.

  “Come on, let’s play.” Boyan grabbed his cards from the table then took a long swig of ale. “If Sabina finds out we did nothing more than ogle a pretty woman, she’ll have my hide.”

  Drake chuckled. There was nothing worse than a jealous telepath—unless that telepath was your wife. “I’m surprised she let you out of her sight.”

  “She does keep him on a tight leash.” Grinning, Morgan picked up his cards.

  “You guys can kiss my—” Boyan swallowed the rest of his sentence, his cheeks flushing. Jelena set a mug in front of him.

  “Do you gentlemen need anything else?” She held her round tray in front of her like a shield. Her gaze was for him alone.

  “No. Not just yet.”

  She nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

  “That was the strangest Pochasi I’ve ever seen,” Gar said, staring after her. The others agreed, looking at Drake for some kind of explanation. When he didn’t give them one, they finally turned their attention to the game.

  An hour passed. Drake noticed that his companions, especially Morgan, became more and more distracted. “You want to tell me what else is going on?” he asked quietly.

  Morgan jerked, turning his gaze on him. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too damned perceptive?”

  “Yeah. You have, more than once.”

  Morgan glanced at Galen, seeming hesitant to speak. “Something’s wrong with Dad.”

  Galen straightened abruptly. “What?”

  Morgan dragged a trembling hand through his hair. “I don’t know. The med-techs, the doctors, no one found a thing wrong with him. Gods, you should see him. He’s wasting away.”

  I have seen him. Drake’s fist tightened around his mug, matching the fist that tightened around his heart. He’d seen him just a few hours ago, in Jelena’s vision, and hadn’t noticed anything wrong other than the fact that he looked a little pale.

  Drek! He loved that man like a father, but he’d been so damned intent on finding Threaden’s hiding place that he hadn’t noticed how bad a shape Tremaine was in. He was a first-class bastard.

  “I think you should come home,” Morgan whispered, looking first at Galen, then Drake.

  Galen rubbed his hands over his face. “Why didn’t you say something before now? Gods, Morgan. Our father is dying and you didn’t contact me?”

  “We don’t know that!” Morgan slapped his palm on the table, making the cards jump. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, tears glazing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped it was something simple. Something we didn’t need to worry you about. I know how hard it is for you to be home.”

  “Dad’s more important,” Galen said in a choked whisper.

  When Galen’s Novan wife died trying to bear their hybrid child, he’d gone home to Bellariss. But living day to day in the midst of his siblings’ happy families, seeing their children, had been too much for him. Drake had taken him into the Guild, into his home, and promised Morgan that he’d look after him.

  Galen turned his glassy eyes on him. “Do you feel anything? Do you know if he’s going to be all right?”

  Drake shook his head. “I don’t know.” His gut twisted as the hope faded from Galen’s eyes. When Morgan told him Ariana was pregnant, he knew the babe would be a girl. He knew. His feelings were never wrong. But they didn’t come at his call.

  “Let’s go.” Galen pushed to his feet.

  Morgan nodded, and they all rose to their feet. “Drake?”

  Drake shook his head. “I’ll just be in the way.” He saw that Morgan wanted to protest. Finally, he nodded and put out his hand. Drake clasped his forearm.

  “You be careful,” Morgan said. “Threaden’s a sadistic bastard.”

  Drake nodded. “Call if you need me.”

  “Will you be all right by yourself?” Galen asked, and glanced toward the bar, where Jelena stood watching them.

  “I’ll be fine.” Drake clasped his arm. “Go on. Get out of here.”

  Goodbyes were said quickly, then they pulled up their sleeves, keyed the sequence for home into their transporter cuffs, and disappeared.

  Chapter Four

  JELENA WATCHED the Magician’s friends disappear and smiled. Not only had they survived the evening without anyone getting killed, she’d manage to fool him. Her disguise was magnificent.

  She was still annoyed he hadn’t disabused them of the belief that she was his latest paramour. Yet, at the same time, she understood why he didn’t. They probably wouldn’t have believed the truth, just as he’d said, and she had a feeling that her nevash was the kind of man who would not be ridiculed. She didn’t want him tormented because of her. For the evil things he’d done, yes, he deserved it, but not because of her.

  “Oh, honey. What I wouldn’t give for a piece of that man.”

  Jelena turned to the serving woman who’d chatted with her throughout the evening. “What man, Dorla?”

  “That one,” she pointed over Jelena’s shoulder. “And honey, he has eyes only for you.”

  Jelena whirled. The Magician headed toward them; his gaze fixed on her. Ali’ra, her ploy had worke
d too well. When he’d refused to let her stay upstairs with him, she should have changed disguises. “You can have him, Dorla. I’m not interested.”

  “Honey, you’re crazy!”

  Jelena shrugged and turned to the bar, her gaze on the mirror, watching without actually looking at him. The amused glint was gone from his eyes. Was it because of her, or had something happened before his friends left?

  Dorla smiled wide, patting her tall pink hair, making room for him at the bar. If the woman had magic, Jelena was sure she would have stripped him bare by now. Her stare was that intense.

  Drake leaned in close, his hand slid down Jelena’s back and over her raas. “Change your mind?” he whispered.

  A tremor streaked down her spine. She stiffened, pulling away. Miserable slug! He wanted her illusion, not her. She hoped her expression looked as disgusted as she felt. “Honey, you had your chance. I’ve made other plans.”

  “That’s too bad.” He turned his gaze to Dorla, who stroked her long nail over the back of his hand. “She always this friendly?”

  “I’m friendly.” Dorla ran her tongue over her wide red lips. “Come up to my room and I’ll show you just how friendly I am.”

  Drake grinned and looked down the bar.

  As if he’d been watching for a sign from Drake, Bardok hurried over, wringing his big, beefy hands. “Everything met with your satisfaction, I trust?” His tone made the question sound more like a prayer.

  Nodding, Drake pulled three tiles from his pocket and held them out to him.

  “No, please,” Bardok waived his hands, “It was my honor to serve you and your guests.”

  Drake shook his head and plunked the tiles on the bar. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of abusing your hospitality.”

  “If you insist.” The tiles disappeared into his apron pocket.

  “You thief!” Jelena jammed her fists on her hips and glared at the barkeeper. “I can’t believe you’re going to take three-hundred credits for a few rounds of ale.”

  “Quiet you—” He raised his arm to backhand her.

  Drake caught the man’s wrist just centimeters from her face. “I believe our business is finished.” His quiet voice held a deadly quality that no one failed to hear.

  Bardok nodded hastily, stammering an apology. The moment Drake released him, he moved to the other end of the bar, not even bothering with a parting glare.

  Maybe she’d been unjust earlier when she’d called him a bully. She never expected a man like him to care whether or not an employer abused his serving woman, but she was grateful he did. “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  “So, how about it, handsome? You want to come upstairs with me?” Dorla asked, trailing her fingers up his arm.

  To keep from giving in to the urge to scratch the woman’s eyes out, Jelena clenched her fingers until her short nails bit into her palms. How would she like to try life as a wolvern?

  Drake shook his head. “I have to go.” He leaned in so close, his breath warmed Jelena’s ear. “You look good in feathers, but I prefer your soft curls.” He straightened and headed for the door, leaving her staring after him with her mouth hanging open.

  “What did he say?” Dorla nudged her, a sly smile on her over-painted face.

  “Why that sneaky—He knew all along!” Releasing an exasperated sigh, Jelena waved away her illusion.

  Dorla screamed and jump back.

  She mumbled an apology to the woman then pushed her way through the crowd to the door he’d disappeared through. She’d barely gone three steps outside when a hard body pinned her to the wall.

  Drake’s hungry lips devoured her surprised shriek and sent a flood of liquid heat rushing through her veins. His velvety tongue stroked the seam of her lips. They parted automatically, allowing him to delve inside, teasing, tempting, coaxing her tongue to mate with his. She moaned, melting into him.

  His strong hands gripped her waist, supporting her weak body as his hips ground against her. The erection pressing into her belly told her just how much he wanted her.

  The strength of her answering desire shocked her to her very core. She was helpless to deny it. All that mattered now, this moment, was the feel of his hard body against hers, his warm lips, his intoxicating scent. It felt so perfect, so right. Of their own volition, her fingers crept into his silky hair.

  He gasped, breaking the kiss, and grabbed her wrists. He imprisoned her hands between them then dipped his head to trail kisses across her jaw.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and when his lips found the tender spot on her neck, just beneath her ear, her head fell back. A low moan escaped her parted lips.

  “I know a place where we can get a room,” he whispered against her neck, his lips trailing her pulse up to her ear lobe. “Or we can go back to my cabin.”

  Heaven help her, she wanted to say yes! She wanted him so badly that she ached. “I can’t.”

  He stiffened in her arms and raised his head. “Why? Because I’m a killer?”

  Her heart skipped, not because he repeated the words from her dream, but because of the pain she heard in his hoarse whisper. How could she tell him he was right? “You’re my nevash. I can’t…” She swallowed, struggling for the right words. “We have rules—”

  “Some rules are meant to be broken.” He trailed his thumb up her throat.

  Jelena swallowed shakily. Her larynx bobbed beneath his thumb. “Not these.”

  “We’ll see,” he whispered, and stepped back. The sudden loss of his warmth chilled her soul.

  A clucking noise drew her gaze over his shoulder to two Pochasi walking down the street. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. Dear gods! They walked like pigeons, their heads jutting. And they were cooing!

  Ali’ra, how he must have been laughing at her inside, how he must be laughing at her still. She couldn’t look at him. And the others, no wonder they’d stopped and stared. She’d made an utter fool of herself!

  He stroked his palms over her hips. “Pochasi don’t sway so enticingly when they walk.”

  She groaned and pushed against his chest with her palm. “Basha tae, just leave me alone.”

  He gently grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “And they don’t have sparkling amethyst eyes.” His lips touched hers in the softest of caresses. “But it was a very good illusion. No one knew you weren’t Pochasi.”

  “But you did.”

  He shrugged. “I saw through it.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  That bothered him as much as it did her. He shouldn’t be able to do these things, yet he did. It made no sense.

  He dropped his hands and stepped back. “It’s time to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I need to meet with my contact. If anyone has news of Threaden’s whereabouts, he should have it.”

  “You’re going to let me go with you?”

  He nodded. “I’d rather have you beside me then have to worry about where you’ll pop up next and in what form.”

  “You shouldn’t do this, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Hunt this man.”

  He stiffened.

  “I won’t deny that I think what you do is wrong, but it’s your safety I’m concerned about. This man might be the threat to your life.”

  Drake shook his head. “I have to do this.”

  “There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of it?”

  He grinned. “Not unless you’ve changed your mind about going back to my cabin. But you’d only buy him an extra night.”

  “Is the money that good?”

  “It has nothing to do with money.”

  “What does it have to do with?”

  “That’s none of your business.” He spun on his heel and strode into the darkness, his black cape swirling behind him. His dark clothing absorbed what little of the quarter-moon’s yellow light there was, making him nearly invisible as he strode further away.

  Je
lena hurried after him. “Are you always this stubborn?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Your mother must have found you quite a handful.”

  Drake laughed, but the sound held absolutely no humor. “The only thing my mother ever cared about was keeping my old man happy.” He stared ahead, his voice taking on a solemn, distant tone. “Pounding on me really amused the hell out of him.”

  Jelena gasped. “She stood by and watched him beat you?”

  “She figured I must have had it coming.”

  “Oh, tali.” She touched his shoulder.

  He shrugged her off. “Save your pity for someone who cares.”

  Jelena sighed, shaking her head, and stared at his retreating back. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should save her compassion for someone who cared. He’d made his own choices with his life. He didn’t have to let his abusive childhood lead into a violent life.

  But even as she tried to force the compassion from her heart, an image formed in her mind of a dark-haired little boy huddled in a corner, crying in pain as his father lay blow upon punishing blow on his thin body while his mother impassively looked on.

  Her throat tightened painfully, threatening to choke her with unshed tears. Blast! No child should have to suffer that. How she wished she could go back in time and protect him from their abuse. That’s when he’d really needed her protection, when he’d been so young and helpless.

  He stopped at the end of the street, waiting for her to catch up. At least, that’s what she thought he intended, especially when he took her hand and led her around the corner.

  Drake shoved her behind him in the dark shadows and shielded her with his body.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Shhh… Someone’s following us.”

  She instantly stilled behind him. Even the sound of her soft panting breaths quieted, allowing him to concentrate on the night sounds around them. Music and bawdy laughter from the whorehouse at the other end of the street. The soft buzzing of night insects. The crunch of gravel beneath booted feet, hurrying toward them.

  Moonlight flashed on razor-sharp metal as their stalker eased around the corner. Before Drake could make his move, Jelena, blast her hide, appeared in front of him.