by Kim Knox
“Never had a thief. You’re...interesting.” Heyerdar gripped the band of her trousers and stopped her. He turned her towards him, his hands firm on her hips. He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re prepared to go as far as it takes. As am I.” He leaned in and Ava willed her feet to stay planted to the floor. “Maybe it won’t be tonight, or tomorrow, but your sweet pussy is as much mine as it is Reist’s.” His lips crept upwards. “Maybe more so.”
Ava wanted to close her eyes. In some ways, she wished he’d shoved her screaming into the wall instead of taking her up on her offer. She was prepared to have sex with him...but naively she’d thought it would be her decision. “Maybe.” She matched his dark smile. “But from the way Reist behaved this morning, it could be less time than either of us thought.”
Letting her go, Heyerdar straightened and stepped back. “You haven’t fucked him.” He tasted his own lips. “Or even kissed him.”
Ava fought not to blush. She was twenty-six, had killed three men, and yet sex embarrassed her as if she were a child. Heyerdar traced a slow fingertip down her cheek, almost echoing Reist’s touch. Her mouth parted in surprise.
“High magic stains.” He barked a laugh and balled his fingers into a meaty fist. “To the Quartermaster.”
Chapter Five
The quartermaster’s side room was small, windowless and lined with wooden panels. It smelled of leather and sweat. A low couch took up a shorter wall and a high cupboard stood next to it, stretching up to the ceiling blackened from candle soot.
The tall, thin quartermaster, Tolya, stood in the open doorway, his face a mask and his gaze fixed on his captain. “I will need to measure her for an accurate fit, sir.”
Heyerdar’s usual frown deepened. “Nobody touches her.”
Ava bit the tip of her tongue, remaining professional. He didn’t trust the thief in her, the one that could burn out a man’s soul with a bite. With her newfound knowledge, it was even easier—a look, an indrawn breath, and the murmur of his life force would tease out from his flesh.
“She is...small. The same size as Saraid, the new recruit in the third watchtower. I need the unit messenger uniform, a worn one, a short sword but no cap.”
“Understood, sir.” With a salute Tolya left them, closing over the heavy door with a slow creak.
Tension sat in her bones. The flicker of the candles in the sconces and the hiss of burning wicks were loud in the sudden silence. Did Heyerdar refuse to have the mage-light that filled the Institute and most of the palace?
“You’ve given me magic.” She waved her hand down her body, the thought of the uniform clear and sharp. She could taste the old leather of the long tabard, the oiled metal of the sword, feel the linen of the shirt and breeches brushing against her skin. “I could simply...”
“And stink of magic? You’re in disguise.”
Having the strength to use magic was so rare that all sense had left her. The Institute paid her good money for her brain too. “Understood.”
A quick rap at the door and Tolya returned, a messenger uniform draped over one arm and a sword belt slung over his shoulder. “These should do well for her, sir.” He moved across the narrow space with an easy stride and placed the clothes and sword on the couch. The hinges to the tall cupboard groaned as he opened a long door. He pulled a wicker box free and put it beside the uniform. “She can store her clothes here.”
“Thank you, Tolya.”
In silence, the man left.
“Strip.”
Magic flushed under her skin, little pinpricks of power hot and quick into her body as her anger roused it. Heyerdar watched her. He folded his arms across his wide chest and his head tilted.
“Are you going to use what remains of my power to magically change your clothes? You’d still stink.”
“Give me some privacy, please.”
His smile was more of a sneer. “Strip, little thief.”
“I have a name.”
“So you do.”
What had driven her to make her deal the night before? If she’d considered it, thought it through for a few days, then Heyerdar would be a stranger, wouldn’t have the excuse to push at her. But she hadn’t. She lifted her chin and slipped through the buttons on her shirt. The thin material dropped over her shoulders and the close air of the room brushed up against her skin.
Heyerdar’s gaze had fixed on her, sharp and focused. She had to hold it. Already she could feel the burn of his power over his body, golden threads weaving temptingly through the air. Knowing she could take it, take him, was a constant ache.
Gritting her teeth and ignoring the knowing smile that had started to turn up his lips, she folded her shirt and placed it in the waiting box. She unstrapped her boots, stepped out of them and loosened the ties on her breeches. Her blades she placed in a neat line on top of her folded clothes. In a few moments, she stood only in her woolen socks, shorts and breast band.
He stalked around her. “Not much muscle at all. Don’t the mages feed you?”
“I eat very well.”
“Leftovers from the kitchen? Stealing from the apprentices?” His low voice wove through her, and her bare skin burned away the last of his power in response. “You’re a shadow.” His fingers traced along her shoulder, and Ava remembered to breathe. His touch was fire and the promise, delicious and hot, of the magic that lay deep within him. “What are you really doing here?”
Ava briefly closed her eyes as his fingers skirted over the curve of her breast. She clung to one of the more sobering reasons why Reist had sent her to Heyerdar. “I need to see the bodies of the victims. See what I can pick up from them, if anything. Thieves usually leave little trace of themselves behind.”
“They do.”
His thumb teased under the thick fabric of her breast band and circled her nipple. Heat scorched under her skin, and the ache between her thighs stole her breath.
“Heyerdar...”
“How much do you know about elementals?”
The slow, easy stroke of his fingers over her breast made thinking almost impossible. Touching him, taking him, was a part of her plan to win back Reist. She couldn’t...enjoy him any other way. “We have a job to do, Captain.”
He slid his other hand down over her backside and pulled her to him, lifted her with ease. His tunic scratched the bare skin of her stomach. All around, his energy taunted her. Their eyes were level. “Not much, I can see.” His dark smile forced her heart to beat hard. The heat in his golden gaze speared her. “Yes, our time together will be very interesting.”
Heyerdar released her, the stale air disconcerting against her skin after the smooth, delicious heat of his firm body. Ava fought to focus. It was simply the effect of sharing his power. When their deal was over, her interest would wane. As would his.
She glanced up at him as she pulled on the loose grey undershirt of the messenger uniform. Her want came from the connection formed from physical magic. She remembered hours of lectures from musty old mages. Ones who’d ramble on about old magic’s dangerous hooks, how they clawed into meat and bone with barbs that buried themselves deep and were a terrible agony to tear free...
Ava winced as the ancient voices filled her thoughts again. For most of the lectures, she’d stared out the high arches of the small training room. Her stomach would rumble, made eager with all the talk of meat and bone and flowing blood.
She knew the fear of her tearing into them made others reluctant to touch her. Even Reist, she was certain. Perhaps, as Heyerdar showed no fear of her, with an elemental the effect wasn’t so fierce. A good thing.
She pushed her mind back to the reason she was in the palace. “Were all the victims linked? From the same area?” She stepped into the breeches and pulled them up, wriggling into the tight fit. Heyerdar’s gaze had narrowed. “What?”
; “There’s more to your backside than I thought.”
Ava glared at him.
“They’re not linked.” He rubbed his hands together, the slide of his skin slow and sure. “Today we’ll determine if the men were itinerant or lived in a community.”
“We?”
“We’re working together, little thief.”
“And if I’m in disguise...?” She dropped the leather tabard over her head and worked her arms through. “You’re going to have to use my name, Captain.”
“You’re in my service. I call you what I want.” He pointed to the sword belt and scabbard. “Buckle up.”
Ava grabbed the sword and followed him out of the room. Her stomach growled. She’d missed breakfast again.
Heyerdar glanced back at her. “Another morning of eating well?”
“I was late this morning.”
“Really?”
The edge to his voice made her cinch the belt too far and she winced. The scabbard slapped against her thigh as she tried to match his long strides. She’d grab something when they went down to the city.
“It’s the vaults next. Your empty stomach will be a benefit.”
Ava followed him through the growing noise and stink of the quartermaster’s workshop. She felt strangely exposed with no hood to force the shadows over her face. White light formed slits across the vaulted-ceiling hall from narrow windows that looked out onto the arena. Its sharpness and heat bathed her skin. Heyerdar might welcome the fire of the sun every morning, but she didn’t. She was a creature of darkness.
Workers shrank back from Heyerdar. Even in the plain uniform of a regular guard, they recognized their commander.
She half trotted, half ran behind him, feeling every inch the lapdog. Anger threaded through her again. It was easier to focus on that than the breadth of his shoulders, the shift of muscle, the golden glow of power that sunlight gave him. She could almost taste it on her tongue, the sweet and sudden scent of warm earth and open sky forcing her to pull in a deeper breath—
Heyerdar turned with a swiftness she hadn’t anticipated, and pulled her through the double doors into the darkened corridor beyond. He shoved her ahead of him. “Keep yourself under control.” His order was a low growl that ran a shiver over her skin. “Find a way. Or I will.”
“You...?”
“Is this what you do all day? Eat? Is that why you’re so fucking hungry?”
Ava scrambled to stay ahead of him as he continued to stride down the empty corridor. “I’ve never taken anyone.”
His gaze narrowed and suspicion shone there for a brief moment. “I know how to stop you. Reist knows that.”
Ava blinked. Did he think she was some sort of trap for him? The rivalry between the two hands of the emperor had existed long before Reist and Heyerdar had held those offices. The strength of the sword against the power of flesh-hoarded magic.
“You’re his pet. Not mine.”
“I am not his pet.”
Heyerdar snorted and strode past her. Ava hated the way she shrank back from him, as if she were one of the scared tailors in the workshop. “We were due in the vaults an hour ago. I don’t like to keep the physician waiting.”
* * *
Chill air pricked her skin. It was old magic pressed into the walls of the vaults—the ancient crypts dug far beneath the main palace complex. She’d followed a few of her leads and reports down into the caverns, but the stone made her skin itch. It was not a place that welcomed her.
The first of the vaults opened out from a short corridor. A white glow to the ceiling lit the curved stone like the winter sun. Stone benches rose up in a line in the hall’s center, and to the sides the darkened pits of the catacombs cut a series of holes. The air was surprisingly clean. Only a faint trace of rot threaded it.
Staff moved between the stone slabs with silent efficiency, white overalls and stiff linen masks in place. All strange deaths were catalogued. Those in the city and confirmed thief kills from the empire were brought to the vaults for study. No one could risk a thief breaching the city. Save her.
Again the strangeness of Reist fighting for her, keeping her, rose again. For the first time, an emotion other than lust-edged affection filled her. Did Reist have another motive in allowing her to remain in the Institute?
One of the physicians broke away from her work and moved towards them. It cut Ava free of her uncomfortable thoughts.
The small woman pulled her mask down from her face and rolled her neck. Sahar Fane, the head physician in the vault. “Captain, you’re late.”
“Had to pick up a stray.” Heyerdar’s low voice rumbled over the stone, and the light from the ceiling flickered and grew.
Sahar’s dark gaze moved over her. Ava caught the tick in her jaw. “The mages’ thief. Good morning, Ava Kalle.” Her attention returned to Heyerdar and she waved him towards the slab. Ava was left staring at her narrow back. “I have no answers for you, Captain. Only more problems.”
Ava stopped herself from grinding her teeth. Sahar’s job was to search for the signs of a thief on a body. She hated a live one in her vaults. Her gaze narrowed. Five bodies on the marble slabs. She frowned. “You have a fresh kill?”
Heyerdar stared at her before returning his attention to the slab. “Do you have a name?” He didn’t look up as Ava stood on the opposite side of the slab. “An occupation?”
Sahar picked up a loose-leafed leather folder and turned over the pages. “Male. We estimate in his early thirties. His face is gone. This was an attack. Not a thief’s usual style.”
Ava had seen a husk before. Reist had brought her down to the vault when she was seventeen, stood beside her, his hand firm and strong around hers and watched the detailed examination with her. Silent, steady, his fingers laced tight through hers, her fierce support. He’d held her hair as she threw up after.
She could almost feel the ghost-touch of his skin against her palm as she ran her gaze along what remained of the man’s body on the slab. Wizened, brown, more powdery dust than flesh and bone. The impression of teeth marks formed circles at his neck, chest and groin. Three distinct mouths. Sahar was right. They hadn’t been careful with this man. They’d left something of themselves behind. She winced. They’d even eaten his dick before they devoured and drained his living essence.
Her stomach growled and she cursed it, pressing a hard forearm against her belly. Fuck. She wasn’t eager for the meat of the man who’d suffered a vicious death. She was simply hungry. Very hungry.
“A flusherman.” Sahar’s voice had a hard edge. “His body was discovered buried beneath boards in a warehouse butting up against the south wall.”
“None of the others were hidden.”
Ava looked up at Heyerdar’s low response. “This was their first kill?” She ran her hand over the husk, not touching, her palm a hair’s breadth from the dry dust of the corpse’s former skin. Ava caught Sahar’s flinch before she closed her eyes. She concentrated. Wisps of energy still remained. Traces of the man. “Regan Searlaim.” His name came unbidden and she heard Sahar’s quick, surprised breath. Ava didn’t let the smile twist her mouth. The tame thief had her uses, obviously.
But there...the tease of something else, something she hadn’t felt in years. A hard tug deep in her belly jerked her eyes open. Thieves, raw and dark, an explosion of feeding, feeding on flesh and bone, marrow and slick life essence, distorted, hollow mouths, sharpened teeth wet with blood and fuck, everything about this man had been so sweet—
“Four.” The word burst from her. She staggered back from the slab, her open hand balling into a fist. Nails dug hard into her palm, biting into her teken. The pain didn’t sate the gnawing hunger in her belly. And she didn’t simply crave her breakfast. She couldn’t use that lie for herself. Not now.
Ava pressed her knuckles to h
er mouth, her blunt teeth biting against the bone, and pulled in a slow breath. The scent and taste of her own skin eased the need in her. She was able to speak again. “Three are obvious. A fourth was more...restrained.”
“Anything else?”
Heyerdar’s question was cool, calm, and for a long moment she was grateful for it. It made her need to run, to disappear into the city and feed on the living, not seem...out of place.
She looked up at him, meeting the flat gold of his gaze. “That they left anything is a surprise. They hadn’t fed in a long time.”
“So Searlaim is our first victim.” Heyerdar rubbed his hands together. “You knew he was a flusherman how, Sahar?”
“He wore a guild chain.” She pulled a sliver of silver from a pocket in the leather folder. It gleamed in the soft light from the ceiling. “And if Ava is correct, and this was a feeding frenzy, it would explain why we found it around his neck.”
“Why not destroy the corpse?”
Sahar stared at her. The shine of disbelief burned in her eyes. “If a thief destroys the husk, all power rips from them.” She tucked the chain back into its pocket. “Hence the finding of the guild chain around his neck. They couldn’t risk removing it.”
Ava felt heat in her cheeks. Did everyone know more about her rhythm of magic than she did? Reist and the mages had never shared that with her. She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t remain ignorant. It wasn’t in her nature. “Only that particular thief?”
“Yes. Which is why they usually feed in groups. To lessen the chance of the power they took pulling free. Still, if they hadn’t fed in awhile, they wouldn’t want their first, fresh taste ripped from them.”
That something she devoured or consumed could pull free from her was another revelation. Damn, had the mages, had Reist, been playing her for so many years? Or were they simply worried that if she knew the truth she’d be tempted to sink into her empty soul and never reemerge?
“The guilds keep a record of their members.” Heyerdar’s frown deepened. “Something about his man was important. More than the first feed. More than hiding themselves.” He snorted, his attention moving over the disturbing rings of jagged holes covering Searlaim’s remains. “We can’t take teeth imprints to find them. No, he had another purpose.” He dug his fingers into his shoulder and worked the muscle there, his gaze turned inward. “They wanted something from him.” He expelled a slow breath. “Sahar, I have your work on the four others. Send a messenger for me if you uncover anything else.”
