They moved that way along with most of the others from the gate.
“I smell food,” Lana noted about a block later. Sure enough, food vendors surrounded the open-air market. Featuring everything from fruit to jewelry. All her feminine shopping instincts kicked in at the sight of the intricately designed gold and silver bracelets.
“Food first, you little shopaholic,” Des said, steering her toward an obvious tavern, with an open door and a front room full of rough plank tables.
“Agreed.” She was starving, and now that she’d smelled food, even shiny things could wait.
She let him take her arm and lead her into the tavern.
Inside was a little different than she’d expected. This was a bar, and the clientele was almost all male. In one corner by the hearth, there were a few women, mostly dressed in really low-cut gowns and looking over the males with a downright professional interest. Great. Hookers. Only one family was in the place, and by unspoken agreement, Lana and Des found a place next to them.
“I’ll go up to the bar and get food,” Des said after they’d each made a trip to the restroom. “If you’ll wait here and watch the packs.”
Lana nodded. She managed a bar and knew when it was wise to lay low. This was one of those times, based on the way the male customers were ogling her. If it hadn’t been so warm here by the fire, she’d have left her cloak on. Instead, she just returned the stares boldly until they looked away. Apparently tan skin and brown hair were acceptable, even if they weren’t the norm. She made a point of ignoring the men, watching the antics of the small children at the nearby table instead, as their harried mother tried to keep them in line without any help from her male counterpart. Asshole.
Des returned with a couple plates of food and mugs of something vaguely beerlike.
“I have no idea what it is, but it smelled okay,” Des said.
“It sure does.” Lana inhaled the spicy aroma. “Kind of like curry. Yum.” She dug in with the two-pronged fork that had been provided.
Des took a bite then nodded. “Yeah, not bad at all.” He took a swallow of the drink and smiled. “Mead, or something similar. Also not bad.”
They didn’t bother to talk while they polished off their food. “You want seconds?” he asked when they were done.
Lana could care less if she didn’t look dainty. “I wouldn’t object. Are you having more?”
Des nodded and went up to the bar. It had gotten even more crowded and rowdy while they were eating, and the family had quietly slipped away. Lana was glad her back was against a wall.
Her luck didn’t hold. Eventually two big louts came over and loomed above her, yelling something she didn’t understand. Des, in the middle of the crowd, probably didn’t see her. She wasn’t worried—she could handle a couple of jerks.
“Get lost,” she growled, narrowing her eyes and jerking her head toward the door.
The two men laughed and one, a behemoth with orange skin and blue hair to his shoulders, grabbed Lana’s right arm and held it up, bellowing something at the top of his lungs.
Every voice in the place shut down, and all eyes turned to stare.
Lana put all her lupine strength into yanking her arm away, but it didn’t work. Had her lupine abilities faded beyond just shifting? Or did the bastard have one hell of a grip?
“What the hell?” Des had seen her, and he set down his tray with a thunk on a random table and strode across the room. Without even pausing, he delivered a right cross to the blue-haired guy’s chin.
The big guy didn’t budge. He repeated whatever it was he’d said before.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Des grabbed the big guy by the collar but instead of shouting, his voice went low and menacing.
“It means, stranger, that Taslo here has just claimed the female as his. Since she wears no man’s bracelet, she is free for claiming.” A tall, thin man with pale hair, ivory skin and pointed ears moved out of the crowd. Elf. “Unless you can prove your own claim on her, she now belongs to him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Des said, turning to the Fae. “Obviously, we’re not from around here.”
The elf shrugged. “I don’t make the laws. I just come in for the honey beer. You’re in Makra, and the law here is that any woman who isn’t married can be claimed by any unattached male who wants her.”
“No fucking way,” Lana said, still trying to wrench her arm away from tall, blue and ugly. “Tell this jerk to let me go.”
“So you do belong to the Earthling?” the elf asked in a loud voice. “You have been claimed by him, obey only him?”
She was too pissed to think before she spoke. “Hell no. I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
The elf winced. “You shouldn’t have said that, wildcat. I’m not the only male in this pub who speaks English.”
“I’m not a cat, I’m a wolf, moron.”
“So shift. That might put him off.” Pointy-ears tried to be helpful.
“I can’t on this sucky-ass world.”
The elf shrugged. “Sorry then.”
The big guy still hadn’t let go.
“If the female is truly unclaimed, then Taslo’s claim is valid. Call a priest,” said another blue-haired man, who’d been behind the bar.
Des winced. “Did I mention the bartender spoke our language?” he whispered. More loudly, he said, “The woman is mine. I have already claimed her, but in our world we don’t use bracelets to mark our females.”
“Female, is that the case? I ask again, do you belong to this man?” The bartender glared at her, meaty fists planted on his hips.
Lana sucked in a deep breath and lied. “Yes. He is my man and I am his woman.” Like she’d ever agree to be owned—by anyone. Not in this lifetime, bucko.
“And the ceremony has been performed? You are wed?” This time the bartender translated for the guy who still hadn’t let go of Lana’s wrist. She was going to have bruises until she could shift, damn it.
“Not yet,” Des said. “We preferred to wait and hold the ceremony at home.” Lana was impressed by his ability to lie without any hesitation.
There was more talk in the language and then the elf laughed. “It’s your lucky day, mortal. Since they’ve already sent for the priest, they say either you bond with the girl here and now, or Taslo gets her.”
“Fine with me.” Des shrugged as if he really didn’t give a damn. “You okay with that, babe?”
“Not even close,” she muttered. Aloud she said, “Fine, darling.”
The bartender clapped Des on the shoulder and said something to the big guy, who grunted and let go, moving back to the bar with his buddy. At another shout from the barkeep, a woman came running out from the kitchen, dripping sweat.
“Anys will prepare the bride,” the elf told them. He pointed at Des. “You come with me. I’ll show you what you need to buy for the wedding. Good thing the market isn’t closed yet.”
Lana gave Des a hopeful look. “Any idea how to get out of this?” she whispered in his ear.
“Nope,” he replied just as quietly. “Just play along. It won’t mean anything once we get home. Pretend it’s a game.”
Lana let herself be herded upstairs with the woman while Des went outside with the elf. It means something to me. She gazed sadly at him over her shoulder as he walked away.
Upstairs, she was descended on by the woman and two teenage girls, who chattered like squirrels as they drew a bath in a big metal tub. At least this place had hot and cold running water. They added some kind of scented oil—not too far off from cinnamon—before gesturing to Lana to strip and get into the tub.
The warm scented water was heavenly, but she wasn’t used to bathing with a roomful of gawkers. One of the daughters washed Lana’s hair with a sweet-smelling liquid soap, then proceeded to scrub her back. Anys and her other daughter argued over the clothing they lay out on the bed, finally deciding on a velvet gown in a pale peach shade. With lace and ribbons, it was a littl
e too sweet for Lana’s taste, but the color would suit. The yellow one they rejected would have made her look jaundiced. Since the locals were a tall people, at least it fit.
They sat her in front of the fire in a thin slip while the younger girl brushed her hair to dry it and the elder brought Lana another big mug of the mead, or honey beer. It had just enough kick to help her relax a little—at least after the third mug.
Anys, who had very few words of English, sat on the windowsill, braiding some dried sheaves of what looked like wheat or oats into a circlet. It didn’t take a super-genius to figure out that symbolism. Thank goodness for modern medicine’s ability to counteract fertility magic. Primitive rituals like this often had a bit of actual magical oomph behind them, and the last thing she needed was to get pregnant. Fortunately, her own scent told her the drugs still had her hormones securely under control.
Finally, once her hair was dry, they stood her in front of a silver mirror—no glass here—and dressed her in the peach gown and a gold belt with several charms hanging from it—a broom, a cradle, a kettle and a pair of interlocking ovals. Maybe those symbolized the bracelets the elf had talked about? The wheat crown was nestled in her hair, which had been left loose down her back. She wore no makeup, but her entire body had been massaged with oils—and she did mean her entire body. It had been more than a little embarrassing to have Anys massage her butt, breasts and even inner thighs. They gave her a light cream for her hands and face, and then they all stood back and smiled at their completed project.
Feeling vaguely like a science project gone wrong, Lana smiled back. They were being remarkably kind. She felt like the world’s biggest fraud, but she had to admit it was better than doing all this to get stuck with Taslo—or anyone else for that matter. At least Des was in the same situation, just playing along until they got home. Truthfully, that sucked almost as much. She didn’t want a pretend wedding with Des. If he ever said those words to her, she wanted him to mean them.
A knock sounded at the door, and the innkeeper stepped in with the elf. “Uther has agreed to represent your man, and I’ll stand as your father. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied grimly. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Here is the groom’s bracelet,” Uther, the elf, said, passing over a suede pouch. “Pak, here, will translate for you, while I do the same for Desmond. When he tells you to, clasp this around your man’s left wrist.”
“Sort of the local version of wedding rings?” Lana looked at Pak and Anys. “Why is Anys wearing one and Pak isn’t?”
The elf shrugged. “The men take theirs off to work. Basically they only wear them on special occasions after the wedding.”
“But the women wear theirs all the time?”
“Yes. It is a symbol for being claimed. If a husband catches a wife without her bracelet, he can legally beat her or even put her to death.”
“Oh yeah, that’s fair.” Not! She should have worked harder to convince Des to go around this nasty little town.
“I do not make the laws around here…” he began.
“I know, you just come for the mead.” She scowled at him. “Come on, let’s get this fucking farce over with.”
“Don’t say that where Pak can hear you,” the elf muttered. “Taslo is his nephew and heir. He’d more than happily give you to the blue-haired behemoth instead of your mage.”
This time she bit her tongue and said nothing. Uther zipped back to the bar, while Lana took Pak’s arm and let him lead her down the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Des caught his breath as he stood by the bar, Uther the elf next to him, watching Lana descend the stairs in a frilly peach dress. The style was so incongruous on her he had to bite back a laugh, but damn if she wasn’t gorgeous anyway. The snug fitting velvet and cinched gold belt emphasized her lush breasts and small waist, while her wavy hair glittered with gold and copper highlights in the glow of the wagon-wheel chandeliers. Bare toes peeked out from under what Uther had said was Anys’s own wedding dress, showing off the crimson polish she’d had on since leaving Detroit, though she’d long since picked most of it off her fingernails during their trek.
Her spine was straight, like she was going before a firing squad, but her eyes rolled a little, making her look dizzy.
“They’ve been giving her a potion in her mead,” Uther whispered. “A mild sedative and strong aphrodisiac to overcome any maidenly fears and make her more amenable.”
Des managed not to snort. Lana sure as hell didn’t need an aphrodisiac and he doubted much of anything could make her amenable if she didn’t want to be. They’d laugh about this later—at least he hoped they would. Even if this ceremony were binding in their world, marriage under duress wasn’t legal anyway. He tried hard to convince himself he was just playing a role.
So why did his gut clench like he’d been punched when Pak handed Lana’s arm to Des?
The vows were pretty similar to old ones on Earth. Both promised to love, and Lana had to agree to obey, which she did with only a hint of a snarl. Des readily swore to protect her and any children they might have and to provide for her to the best of his ability.
Then Pak urged Lana to her knees and she flashed Des a glare. He let his gaze speak for him, apologizing for the indignity as he placed his hand on her head in a gesture of ownership. This was wrong. Marriage was supposed to be a partnership, not a form of slavery. But he followed directions and accepted the loose bracelet she placed on him, then slid one over her wrist, clasping it until it locked. Unlike his, only cutting the gold would allow her to remove the snug-fitting band.
Though subservience was utterly against her nature, she quickly hid the baring of her teeth by bowing her head. Thank you, chán-láng. Even drugged, she played along. He was so proud he wanted to burst.
Then it was over and the entire tavern cheered and toasted. Des and Lana were forced to drink several rounds with their witnesses and hosts. Finally, amid hoots and catcalls, Lana led him up to the room they’d been given for the night—the same one, they were told, where she’d dressed for the ceremony.
Once inside, Des slammed the door behind them and leaned against it, his shoulders sagging with relief.
“You don’t like being the main attraction, do you?” Lana carefully unhooked the gold belt from her waist and laid it on the dresser, along with the crown of grain from her hair.
“Not in the slightest.” He didn’t know how she could stand getting on stage and playing for a crowd night after night.
“It gets old sometimes.” She moved over to him and turned her back, silently asking him to untie the laces that held the velvet close to her curves. “But it can be a rush, too, if you’re doing something you love. This just felt…icky.”
“I’m sorry.” He untied the laces and loosened the gown until it sagged around her and she could pull it off over her head. “For what it’s worth, you looked amazing in that dress.”
“Thanks. I was terrified of spilling wine on it or something, but it turned out okay. Anys wants to save it for her girls, so I didn’t want to damage it.”
“Girls?” He hadn’t seen any daughters.
“Two—and just about grown. Given the local marriage customs, is it any wonder they keep them locked up here when there are customers in the tavern?”
Des winced. “You’ve got a point.” He helped her with the dress. She folded it carefully and set it aside, while he stripped out of his fur jacket and flannel shirt. He tripped taking off his own boot, he was so busy watching her pace about the room in her see-through, sleeveless shift.
She finally sat cross-legged on the bed, her chin on her fists, watching him undress with a hungry look.
“Look, I know they drugged you, and I don’t want to take advantage of that…” Much as he wanted to.
“Don’t worry, it wore off about fifteen minutes after they stopped pouring it into me. My lupine metabolism still works, even if I can’t shift.”
�
��Are you sure?” He stared at her nipples, hard as rocks against her thin garment. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to.
Her laugh was wry, and heartening in its familiarity. “Don’t be an idiot. I wanted you before there were any potions involved. Or haven’t the last few nights taught you anything?”
“I know.” He rubbed his temples, feeling like a twit. “I think it just falls into the same category you just mentioned…icky.”
She lifted one eyebrow and tipped her chin downward.
“I didn’t say you were icky.” Wearing just his boxers, he thunked down on the foot of the bed, facing a wall. “Just the idea of having sex with someone who’s been drugged… I’m going to shut up now before I get even deeper into trouble.”
“Good answer.” She squeezed his shoulder. “So, look at it this way. We get to experience married sex without really being married.” If he hadn’t been listening closely, he’d have missed the slight tremor in her voice. It helped, to know she was affected, too, by the whole situation.
“I guess. I’m still sorry about the kneeling and everything. You tolerated it a lot better than I could have.” Though he kissed up enough with the League—why had he thought that was acceptable?
“With my grandfather, I got plenty of practice playing the subservient female.”
Des had met “the old man,” as his grandchildren had called Ivan Novak out of his hearing. He could well imagine the obeisance the elder werewolf had demanded, and how hard that had sat with someone as dominant as Lana.
“And you hated every minute.” He turned and somehow she just seemed to flow into his arms. “Downstairs, I could tell how much that ‘obey’ business was driving you nuts, but you didn’t give us away, so thank you.”
“Hey, I don’t want to have to fight my way out of this world any more than you do. Especially since I can’t shift in this backwater hellhole.”
“It’s kind of sad, actually,” he said, “that they think of marriage like this. When I look at my parents, any of our friends—it can be so much better than ownership.” He meant every word—and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d also meant almost every word he’d said before the Makran priest. Some small part of him did feel like he’d just married Lana. And it was trying really hard not to show its teeth and beat its chest. He knew in that instant, that for him, the vows they’d just spoken were binding. Even if they couldn’t stay together once they were home, Lana was his one. He’d never love anyone in quite the same way he loved her. In his heart, she’d always be his wife. The concept terrified him.
Motor City Mage Page 15
