“Enough with the male testosterone,” Nalia said, waving a hand. She turned to Pasha. “Take Dashael downstairs and have Sarina fetch fresh clothing for him. While you’re at it, remove his handcuffs. He’s not going anywhere.”
Nalia strolled to the silver tea service situated on the buffet and everyone but Mara and Finian exited the East Solarium. Giving Finian a wide berth, Mara strode to the buffet and stared at Nalia’s back. “Guess now is as good a time as any to sign the papers releasing Gideon.”
“What?” Nalia poured a stream of earthy-smelling Jufferi tea into a delicate teacup and finished it with a dollop of cream before turning. “But your work isn’t completed.”
A cold black rage swept over Mara, making her entire body shake. Hating someone this much did nothing but eat at her soul, and she despised Nalia all the more for it. “You promised. I know your word isn’t usually worth much, but I took it anyway.”
“Dear, don’t adopt such a fierce expression. It’ll wrinkle your lovely skin.” Nalia stirred her tea before tapping the spoon against the cup. “I fully intend on keeping my word. You merely misunderstand the finer details of our arrangement.”
“How can I misunderstand details you never provided?” Mara said between clenched teeth.
Nalia tossed the spoon down. Her over-plucked eyebrows winged towards the ruby-encrusted combs anchoring her hair. “Come, let’s not argue. The only thing left for you to do is accompany Dashael on his mission. Trivial, really.”
“What?” A weight crushed at Mara’s chest. Travel with Dash—again? She’d either kill him or cave to his sexual magnetism. Either way she’d be screwed, no pun intended. “Wouldn’t it make more sense sending one of your bodyguards?” she asked, clutching at straws.
“We both know brainpower isn’t Pasha, Merke or Zith’s strong point. I need someone my sly thief won’t easily outfox.” Cold calculation gleamed in Nalia’s eyes. “Someone with strong motivation to finish this mission quickly. But perhaps I misjudged your desire to free your brother…” Nalia’s expression turned almost reptilian—a deadly asp getting ready to strike. “There are worst punishments than imprisonment, you know. Particularly for a human standing guilty of the crime your brother committed.”
Ice-cold fear trickled through Mara’s veins. Was Nalia threatening to reinstate Gideon’s death penalty? “No, I’ll do it.”
Nalia’s mouth curled into a frigid smile. “You always were a smart girl.” She reached for the tea cup and took a dainty sip before blotting her lips with the edge of her lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Which is why I trust I needn’t remind you Dashael Rhyder belongs to me.” One blood red nail circled the cup’s rim. “And what I possess, no one else touches.”
~ * ~
Amazing what a clean pair of pants will do for a fellow. Of course, his face needed some help. Grimacing, Dash finished tying off the line of stitches above his right eye. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He winked at the young maid holding the looking glass for him.
She giggled and dropped the glass to her side before darting past the stone-faced bodyguard stationed next to the door.
“See you’re busy making friends.”
Dash jerked around and stared at Mara as she sauntered into the kitchen from the rear entrance. Despite the replacement of her siren outfit with a drab green skirt and blouse topped by a white apron, she remained the most desirable woman he’d ever seen.
He rubbed his wrists, trying to ease the chafing left by the handcuffs. “Wouldn’t want her to accuse me of being rude.”
Mara rolled her eyes before stooping to grab his wrinkled trousers from the kitchen floor.
“Surely your job description doesn’t include picking up after me.”
She gave him a hard glare before tossing his trousers over her arm. Frowning, he stood. “Good gods, are you a maid?”
“Didn’t the outfit give it away?” She flung her arms wide.
“I merely figured it yet another of your clever guises to seduce me.” At her incredulous stare, he grinned. “What male doesn’t enjoy the naughty-maid fantasy?”
She snorted and brushed past him. Her hand wrapped around the thin, black wool tunic hanging over the back of the chair. “Here,” she said, tossing the garment at him.
He let it fall to the floor. “Thing is too bloody scratchy.”
“Stop being a crybaby and just wear it.”
“Why? Worried you’ll get all hot and bothered with this much eye candy on display?” He flexed his chest muscles to further goad her.
“Oh brother.” She turned her back on him and the discarded shirt.
He watched her finish collecting the various implements he’d patched his face with. The enigma of her continued to baffle him. Shifting his attention to the other kitchen entrance, he noted the absence of the bodyguard. Good, gave him the perfect opportunity to fish for information. “I can’t believe Nalia sent her maid after me. Is she too cheap to buck up for a bounty hunter?”
“I caught you, didn’t I?”
Touché. Actually, it was ingenious in the scheme of things. If he were to type into a computing analyzer the specifications of his ideal fantasy woman, it’d spit out a picture of Mara. He gave her backend a considering glance. “If I’d known your situation, I would have more than tripled Nalia’s finder’s fee.”
“Already told you I’m not interested in your money.” She poked the needle into the spool of thread and tossed them into the rickety wooden crate leaning against the far stone wall. Her apron flapped around her waist while she scurried about, flicking a dust cloth over anything blocking her path.
He folded his arms over his chest, irritated by her constant flurry of activity. Really, she was more dizzying to watch than a sprite hocked up on caffeine. “Fine, you don’t want money. What do you want?”
Mara swiveled on her heel and ran her cloth over a set of pottery canisters resting on the counter. She flicked a glance to the area just south of his waist. The gesture was brief and likely unconscious on Mara’s part, but it still managed to get a rise from him. Literally.
“Nothing,” she said, tucking the cloth into her apron pocket.
Liar.
“So what’s the story with this Rhyann rune?”
Dash grimaced. As if coyly changing the subject didn’t grate on his nerves, mention of that damn rune threatened to raise his blood pressure beyond the boiling point. “It’s a stone, and it’s priceless. End of story.”
“A priceless stone?” She frowned. “Why does Nalia want it?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Mara turned away, but not before he noticed the disappointment she failed to hide.
Suspicion crept over him. “Why are you asking?” When she remained stubbornly mute he stalked forward and grabbed her shoulders, making her gasp.
She tried jerking free. “Release me.”
“Not until you start answering my questions.” He slid his grip down the slope of her arms and manacled her wrists inside his fists. “How does it feel being the one cuffed, Sher ’tian?”
Her eyes glittered with unleashed fury. “Get. Your hands. Off me.”
“Don’t you enjoy them on you? Sure seemed like it yesterday, when you were moaning and slithering your tight little body against mine.”
“That was an act, you ass.” She tugged her wrists hard.
“Then you should win an award for your acting skills.” He lowered his head, his sight fixed on the temptation of her scowling lips. Before he reached his target, her knee found his groin. Sucking in a sharp breath, he dropped her hands and staggered to his knees.
Mara stepped away with an innocent smile. “Sorry, guess my knee slipped.”
He pinned her with his hard glare. “If I’m ever able to stand again, you’re going to regret that.”
She shoved her hair back and pierced him with an annoyed look. He found that rather ironic, considering he was the one with throbbing balls. “Look, I don’t want to fight.”
“You have an interesting way of showing it.” Wincing, he reached between his legs and adjusted himself.
“If this is going to work, we must get along.” She extended a hand. After granting her a wary stare, he grabbed her hand and struggled to his feet.
“If what’s going to work?” he demanded, brushing the floor dust from his knees.
“Us.”
He stared at her, waiting for the punch line.
She held up her hand. “I’m referring to our temporary partnership, of course.”
“Babe, I don’t do partnerships.” The mere use of the word made his gut go sour. Personal or professional—partnerships were disastrous. He knew from personal experience.
Mara gave him a withering glare. “Neither do I. But we’re stuck with each other until you steal the Rhyann rune and bring it here.”
She was accompanying him? His mouth curled in a grin. Then again, maybe disastrous is a bit harsh.
“Any ideas swirling in your twisted, perverted head can just go to hell.”
“Trust me, they’ve already been there.”
She shoved a finger in his face, her expression bristling with fierce warning. “I mean it. Don’t try messing with me. I won’t have it.”
A groan skated past his lips. “We’re back to rehashing that old song and dance?”
“Whatever it takes to get it through that thick skull of yours.” Her eyes flashed fire. “Under no circumstances will I ever sleep with you. Got it?”
He cocked his eyebrows at her vehemence. “Who are you trying to convince—me or you?”
Gritting her teeth, Mara bent over and swiped the tunic from the floor. She rolled it into a ball and tossed it at him. “I hope you get a rash.” With those encouraging words, she stalked off.
He shrugged into the tunic, his gaze drifting to her shapely calves. She could lie to herself all she wanted. Sooner or later, she’d be writhing beneath him in the throes of rapture.
And knowing her inevitable downfall provided the key to his escape made it all the sweeter.
Chapter Four
“Her royal highness requests your appearance in her chambers.”
Dash settled the book he’d been perusing onto his chest and stacked his arms behind his head. The cot swayed beneath him, creaking.
“Is that right?” He eyed the guard stationed in the doorway of his cell. He’d given up trying to keep track of Nalia’s various bodyguards. Not that it mattered. They clearly all shared the same brain.
“We can’t keep her waiting. She’ll be most displeased.”
Tempting as it was to put a twist in the bitch’s panties, he wanted to get out of the cell he’d been confined to for the past thirty-two hours even more. He tossed the book on the floor and hefted to his feet.
The bodyguard barely allowed him time to exit the room before grasping the back of his tunic and thrusting him down the corridor.
Dash grunted. “I know you can’t keep your hands off me, you bloody pervert, but watch the threads.” The tunic he wore was only a sight better than the black one, but at least it didn’t make him scratch at himself like a flea-bitten hound.
They took the stairs up several flights before arriving outside a set of enormous marble doors. The bodyguard pushed a button recessed in the wall and Nalia’s voice filtered through the speaker, bidding them entrance. Dash stepped inside, his well-trained eye cataloging his sumptuous surroundings. The Hon’dach oil hanging near the silk-draped bed would fetch enough merca to feed half the populace of Zalan. Additionally, they all could take a vacation off the proceeds brought in from the jade lamp sitting on the late seventeenth-century Artur’ak dresser.
“Deciding which of my treasures you’d love to divest me of?” Nalia’s cold chuckle echoed off the walls as she stepped from behind an ivory inlaid screen.
“Can you blame me?” Dash’s arm swung in an arc, the gesture encompassing the goodies surrounding him. “It’s like luring a Frittona lion into a chicken pen and expecting him not to eat the residents.”
Nalia cinched the belt of her dressing gown and waved a hand in dismissal to the bodyguard. The weapons strapped to his chest clinked together when he rushed to obey her silent command.
“I trust you’re well enough to leave for Mer’daca in a few hours?”
The mention of his homeland and the fool’s mission ahead of him churned Dash’s stomach. It’d be a damn miracle if he wasn’t shot dead the second he set foot on Mer’daca soil. And that was all but guaranteed if he ran into Jerrick.
Jerrick. Just the mention of the name further agitated the tumultuous brew inside Dash’s gut. Of course he’d run into the backstabbing bastard. Little chance he wouldn’t, given the circumstances.
“I took the liberty of securing you clothes for the journey.”
Dash pulled his thoughts from the anguished memories that were impossible to block and stared at Nalia. He’d missed a good portion of her babble. “What?”
She strolled to a large cabinet taking up most of the farthest wall and he trailed after her. A small stack of fine wool trousers and linen button-down shirts in various shades waited on one of the cabinet’s shelves. There was also a pair of hiking boots and kidskin loafers.
“Do they meet with your impeccable standards?” Nalia inquired, her tone heavily laced with patronizing amusement.
“Not really, but I’ll lower my standards this once.”
A pile of books rested near the shoes. Their spines were shelved outward, clearly displaying their titles. The Alchemy of the Fairies. One Thousand and One Ways to Hex a Lover. The Legend of Rhyann.
“Interesting research material.” Dash reached for the small, burgundy leather book on the end but Nalia slammed the cabinet door shut before he could acquire it. Turning his head, he took in her tight expression.
The wheels inside his brain began grinding. She was after the rune, a stone purported to enhance magic—something an all-powerful fairy queen shouldn’t have any need for. He grinned. “What’s the matter, old girl, losing your edge? Or should I say your powers?”
Nalia’s right eyebrow twitched, a sure sign that he’d struck a tender nerve. “Your tongue is sharper than your brain.”
Her barb fell short of piercing his ego and he chuckled, knowing full well it’d infuriate her. “Who are you trying to fool? The books give it away. Why else would you need the rune?”
Something cold and twisted swirled in the depths of her slanted eyes. “There are scores that need settling, and the Rhyann will ensure my fondest wish sees fruition.”
Before he could bait Nalia further, the tread of footsteps announced someone’s approach. Dash took one look at the pleased smirk creeping across Nalia’s face and easily deduced who the arrival was. He turned and nearly ended up incinerated by Finian’s blast of fury.
“What is he doing in here? I told you to keep that slime far from my sight.”
“These are my private chambers. I’m the one who makes the decision who is allowed inside.” Nalia’s tone held a frosty bite. “You’re fortunate I’ve yet to ban you from entering.”
Dash inwardly groaned. He’d rather be in that chicken pen with the Frittona lion than stuck between a bickering husband and wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some packing to do.”
Nalia tore her attention from Finian as Dash shuffled strategically towards the doorway. “Sarina will bring your traveling clothes by your room later. Don’t get too attached to them. When you return, you’ll be wearing the uniform I commissioned special for you.” She reached inside the pocket of her dressing gown and pulled out a scrap of red silk. It didn’t appear big enough to cover his privates.
Oh bloody hell. Suddenly, the scratchy tunic didn’t look so bad.
~ * ~
Mara blinked away a bead of sweat, visualizing the numerous ways she longed to pay Nalia back for her blackmail. Lugging twenty loads of laundry up and down six flights of stairs gave her ample time to come up with some real winners.
; An extra cup of starch in the sheet wash? Nah, itch powder mixed in with the delicates.
Her lips twitching in a secret grin, she hugged the clothes basket next to her hip. She would never do it, of course, but it was fun to imagine. After dispersing the laundry to the appropriate rooms, she trudged downstairs and deposited the basket onto the shelf.
She staggered to her closet-sized room. Ignoring the rumble in her empty stomach, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto her narrow cot with a groan. Muscles she didn’t even know she possessed screamed for mercy.
Nalia’s perfectionist standards were killing her, but twelve years in the queen’s employ had taught her that it did no good to complain. Even the time she threatened to turn Nalia in for violating the terms of the human slave ban resulted in nothing beyond a dismissive wave from the queen. That was the problem with working for fae royalty—the law tended to look the other way where they were concerned.
Stretching her legs, Mara leaned forward and massaged the arches of her feet. She moaned, dropping her chin in the crook between her knees.
“Do you suppose the nights are chilly in Mer’daca?”
Frowning, Mara lifted her head. Her fingers tightened around her toes when she spied the bulging satchel swinging from Piper’s arm. Please don’t let that be what I think it is.
“Maybe I should bring my striped scarf.”
“Hell no.” Mara bolted upright on the cot.
“You’re right.” Piper nodded decisively. “The snowflake one is warmer.”
“Forget it. You’re not coming.”
“Am too. Queen Nalia gave the go-ahead herself.”
Mara gritted her teeth. “Of course she did. Damn fairy isn’t about to give up the chance of getting you out of her hair for a week or two.”
“Huh, guess it sucks to be you then, doesn’t it?”
Box springs creaked in protest when Mara launched from the cot. She made a swipe for the tiny satchel but Piper streaked upward. The sprite showed off with a double back flip and grabbed one of the chain links supporting the overhead lamp before sticking out her tongue.
Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 Page 4
