A growl escaped Mara. “You’ll only get in the way.”
“Will not. I fully intend to help. Besides, why should you be the only one enjoying some fun and excitement?”
“This isn’t a pleasure trip. In fact, I’m fairly certain it’ll be gods-awful.” If Piper insisted on tagging along, that’d be a given. Mara groaned and rubbed her temples in preparation of the massive headaches in her future.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“On vacation.” The long-handled duster propped in the corner caught Mara’s eye. If Piper didn’t come down of her own free will, maybe a little feathered persuasion would help. She stepped around the cot.
“I see our rooms have the same décor—post-modern dungeon.”
Mara swiveled at the sound of Dash’s familiar baritone. Her kneecap banged the cot’s metal frame and pain arced down her leg. “Son of a—” Blinking back tears, she dropped to the mattress and hugged her knee.
Dash pushed from the doorway and rushed to the bed. He knelt over her, his muscular frame taking up too much space in the cramped room. Glaring, she socked him in the arm.
“Nice to see you’re keeping your word about getting along.” He graced her with a wry grin and rubbed his biceps.
“That’s for not knocking.”
Chirpy laughter rained down on them. Dash stood and stared at the ceiling. A frown furrowed between his dark eyebrows when he spotted Piper. “What the devil are you doing up there?”
Piper pointed an accusing finger at Mara. “She tried to steal my satchel.”
“I wasn’t trying to steal it.” Mara rolled her eyes.
“Hah, if I didn’t—” Piper gave an indignant sputter when the duster handle popped the satchel from her grip. It plummeted straight into Dash’s outstretched palm.
He tossed the satchel to Mara. Bemused, she caught it midair and stared at him. “Wow, I didn’t see you grab the duster.”
His smile dazzled. “Because I’m a professional, babe.” He settled on the cot’s metal footboard and nodded at the tiny canvas bag clutched in Mara’s hand. “So why do you want it?”
“I don’t really.” She shrugged. “What am I going to do with a sprite’s wardrobe? Dress my pinkies?” Sighing, she handed the satchel to Piper before studying Dash’s face more closely. “Your bruise looks better today—far less purple.”
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw.
“You shaved.” Heat crept into Mara’s cheeks. Great, nothing like appearing way too interested in his personal hygiene. “Good. I bet the cook’s daughter that Nalia prefers her lovers clean shaven. Seems she owes me five merca.” She cleared her throat. Not too shabby for a quick improvisation. Hopefully he’d fall for it.
Amusement danced in Dash’s eyes. “Don’t get your coin purse out just yet. My decision to shave was based solely on my aversion to resembling a feral hound.”
Curiosity gnawed at her. Was he saying he hadn’t provided Nalia with stud services yet? Hard to believe. With Dash’s scorching sexual magnetism and mouthwatering physique, any female with a functioning libido would be hard-pressed keeping her hands off him. Not that I’d know anything about resisting a fae thief who’s too sexy for his own good.
“How about you, Sher ’tian? Prefer a clean-shaven lover?”
Mara met Dash’s prodding gaze. She didn’t know of any faes gifted with the ability to read minds, but for a mortifying second she swore he’d somehow managed a peek inside hers. Wouldn’t that be the final blow to her ego—Dash having an insider scoop to every lustful thought tumbling in her brain, most starring him buck naked in various and intriguing positions.
“She’s celibate. Hasn’t gotten any action since the baker stopped delivering his buns eighteen months ago.”
On second thought, there’s the final blow to my ego. Mara shot a murderous glare at Piper. If the duster were handy, she’d bop the little blabbermouth upside the head. “Leave. Now.”
Piper wisely took the suggestion to heart and shot from the room in a blaze of glittering sprite dust.
“Eighteen months?”
Mara turned her head. Dash’s expression matched the horror in his tone.
“How’ve you survived?”
“People don’t die from lack of sex,” Mara said, huffing in exasperation. “And if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get off this subject.” The valise protruding from beneath the narrow cot snagged her attention. Inspiration struck. “Come to think of it, I still need to pack.”
She nudged the valise out with her foot. “This’ll probably take a while.” Lifting her head, she gave Dash a pointed stare. “Feel free to go about your business.”
His butt remained planted on the footboard. Gnashing her teeth at the aggravating nature of the male species, Mara stalked to the tall, skinny cabinet leaning against the wall. She yanked open the top drawer and scooped out a handful of undergarments—her entire supply—and tossed them inside the valise. Dash’s eyes lit up. He reached for the silky pink panties resting on top and she slapped his hand away before returning to the cabinet and emptying the remaining two drawers.
The entire process lasted roughly thirty seconds.
“You’re right, that took forever,” Dash said dryly.
Ignoring him, she flipped the valise’s lid shut and snapped the latches down before jumping to her feet. The lingering ache returned, lancing through her left heel, and she gasped. Knee buckling, she lurched sideways, her hand groping for the support of the bed. She connected with Dash’s solid chest. Before her lips formed a protest, he settled her on the mattress and cupped her foot.
“Is it your ankle? You came down damn hard on it.”
She shook her head. “Just a spasm. These marble floors are murder on my feet.”
His big hands smoothed over her instep, his thumbs kneading circles along the arch. A blissful moan brushed past her lips. The amazing thing he was doing to her foot felt too good for her to even consider stopping him.
He rubbed along the sides of her foot, his smooth-shaven jaw tensing. “Maybe we should postpone the journey.”
Nalia would have a fit. “I’ll be fine.” More than fine if his hands continued their magic.
Dash reached for her other foot. Settling back on his haunches, he rolled her toes between his fingers. Delicious tingles shivered up her spine.
It felt strange having someone fuss over her. Usually it was the other way around. If Nalia and Finian didn’t run her ragged with their constant demands, their guests stepped in to fill the void. Time to herself, much less an opportunity for pampering? Totally unheard of.
Warmth spread through her limbs. The friction of Dash’s hands wasn’t the sole cause. It felt so damn good just being touched, sharing the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact with him.
The fact she craved it to the depths of her soul scared the crap out of her. She didn’t need or want to have these urges. Not when they were directed towards a Maddoc fae.
“Thanks.” She tugged her feet from his grip and curled them beneath the protection of the cot before smiling brightly. “I feel like a new woman now.”
If Dash saw through her false perkiness, he didn’t let on. He pushed to his feet and his shirt rucked up just beneath his navel. She tried not to blatantly stare at his exposed wedge of bronze skin, but it was real hard.
“What’s the farthest you’ve traveled beyond Zalan’s border?”
Licking her lips, she glanced away from his stomach. She kept waiting for him to pull his shirt down. Jeez, can’t he feel a draft or something? “Helias. Why?”
“I need to know what I’m getting myself into. Since you’re a virgin, I’m guessing a whole heap of trouble.”
Mara frowned. “I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex before.”
Dash’s slow, wicked grin slid into place. “Sher ’tian, I think we established that fact. I was referring to your lack of worldly experience.”
She shoved her arms over her chest. “Just because I haven’t
jetted all over the planet stealing anything not nailed down doesn’t mean I’m a naïve bumpkin.”
He towered over her, his stance equally combative. “Have you ever stared down a hungry orgeel?”
“Not sure.” She gave him a wary look. “What is it?”
“A red-scaled lizard. It grows to twenty feet and is found mostly in the cave region of Mer’daca.” A devilish gleam sparked in his dark eyes. “They have a particular fondness for the sweet taste of blondes.”
She snorted. “You’re making that up.” Worry crept along her spine when he didn’t verify her statement.
“Mara, there are numerous deadly and strange beings you’ll encounter in Mer’daca.” His lips tugged upward. “Some of them are even the non-fae or non-human variety. Like me, you need to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Even if she were shaking inside over the prospect of running into a whole herd of salivating orgeels—which she was—she didn’t have any choice but to accompany him to Mer’daca. Nalia’s poisoned ink sealed her fate, so to speak. “Well, wherever we’re going, hopefully it’ll be orgeel free.”
A pensive stillness laid claim to Dash’s face and she swallowed down a lump of fear. “Please tell me we’re not spending the night in any caves.”
“I’m not certain.”
“What do you mean you’re not certain,” she demanded, gaping at him. “Are we or not?” Please say we’re not.
He scrubbed his jaw before gracing her with a sheepish grin. “Here’s the thing—after we reach Mer’daca, I’ve no clue where we go next.”
Chapter Five
They arrived in Volto before nightfall. In the distance, dark clouds, fat with rain, gathered on the horizon.
Mara waited until the aerocoach coasted to a stop in the shipyard’s unloading dock before tugging her valise from the overhead compartment. This is insane. If a raging storm didn’t sweep her overboard during their journey, a hungry orgeel would likely take care of the oversight by making her his late-night snack.
Dash stretched his arm past her head and grabbed his own bag. He caught her stare and returned it with one of his cocky smiles.
If I’m the orgeel’s snack, he damn well better be the main course. Growling beneath her breath, Mara hefted her valise with both hands and stumbled from the vehicle. The pungent stink of rotting kelp hit her full force. Gagging, she dropped the valise and clamped a hand over her nose and mouth.
Piper flitted from the aerocoach and scrunched her face. “What died?”
Mara cautiously removed her hand and took a shallow breath through her nose. Blessedly, the initial shock of the horrid smell appeared somewhat diminished. “My guess, about fifty tons of fish.”
“What’s the matter—never smelled the sea?” Dash sidled between them and sucked in a lungful of air before releasing it with gusto. “Ahh, now that’s refreshing.”
“There’s something very wrong with you.” Mara wrinkled her nose. Ignoring his chuckle, she searched the bustling docks for sign of their ship and her captain. According to Nalia, Sig Borgander was large of belly, boisterous, and sported way too much body hair.
From what Mara could see, that described nearly every male in the shipyard. A man with an obscenely endowed mermaid tattooed on his upper arm shuffled past carrying a crate. “Excuse me,” she called, rushing after him. She sidestepped a rotting fish carcass being attacked by a swarm of flies.
The dockworker lowered his crate and eyed her over the top of it with lascivious interest. Quite disturbing, considering he was old enough to be her grandfather. He stopped and she crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to block his lecherous stare. “I’m looking for Captain Borgander. Would you happen to know where I might find him?”
He aimed a stream of tobacco at the ground before swiping a hand across his scraggly gray beard. “Girlie, you don’t need him. I’ll be your captain.” The crate’s contents rattled when he thrust his pelvis in and out suggestively.
She fought back a dry heave.
“Careful, mate.” Dash’s hand suddenly rode the small of Mara’s back. “Old fella such as you could end up in traction busting out those kinds of moves.”
A scowl pulled the man’s bushy eyebrows into a menacing vee. “Who the fuck are you?”
The warm hand pressing into her back slid around and settled possessively across her stomach.
Dash silenced her sputtering protest by tugging her tight against his hip. “I’m her husband. Anything else you want to know?” Underlying steel lurked in his velvet tone.
Flat olive eyes regarded Dash cautiously before the man shook his head. “Borgander ain’t left Port Scohope yet. Too much whoring and Ginnish Sours, I reckon.” His robust chortle startled the nearby gulls and they took flight with a chorus of displeasured squawks. “Don’t expect him in before midmornin’.”
“Morning? As in tomorrow?” Mara’s mouth fell open. She remembered the nearby swarm of flies and quickly snapped it shut.
“Ain’t that what I said?” Mumbling beneath his breath, the man shifted the crate in his arms and hobbled off.
Piper fluttered up with Ronan hot on her wings.
“Where’s the ship?” Ronan’s narrowed eyes tracked the departing dockworker. “Sooner we leave this shit hole, the better.”
“Seems we’re not leaving until tomorrow.” Dash released Mara’s waist and held up his hands when Ronan gave him a sizzling glare. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
Ronan’s glare pivoted onto Piper. “This is all your fault. We could have hired a jetcraft and been halfway to Mer’daca by now.”
Piper turned up her nose. “Can I help it that I have a fear of flying?”
“You’re a sprite.” A vein bulged in the side of Ronan’s jaw. “You fly all the time.”
“Yeah, but not thousands of feet up in the air.” Piper tossed her hair. “Geesh.”
“Look, if anyone’s to blame, it’s the luscious maiden responsible for Borgander’s debauched excess,” Dash said reasonably.
Mara shoved her hands on her hips and issued him a challenging stare. “Your theory’s a bit warped. The captain’s a big boy. He should know when enough is enough.”
“Situations like that, men don’t think with this head.” Dash tapped the side of his skull. “The one downstairs always gets the winning vote.”
She hated to admit he had a point. “Well, no sense arguing over who’s at fault. The important thing is finding someplace to room tonight.” Lifting an arm, she shaded her eyes from the late-day sun and surveyed the shipyard. The idea of bunking with the seabirds and foulmouthed dockworkers was cringe-inducing. “I wonder if there are any hotels in town.”
“Only one way to find out,” Dash said, sauntering towards the aerocoach.
Sighing, Mara trailed after him.
~ * ~
They’d not traveled far from Volto’s harbor when Mara spied the large crowd of people waving signs by the side of the road. “What’s going on out there?”
Dash leaned forward and glanced out the window. His breath fogged against the glass, evidence of the near arctic state of the aerocoach’s coolant level. “Some kind of protest.”
The aerocoach slowed. Mara peered at the signs and the irate faces of the people being corralled behind a barricade heavily patrolled by a group of fae law enforcers. Other than the enforcers, everyone else appeared to be human.
“Ah, they’re protesting the free-trade embargo.”
Mara’s fingers slipped from the cold window. She turned towards Dash, her forehead scrunching. “Isn’t this kind of an out-of-the-way place to hold a protest?”
“I think it has more to do with the proximity to the harbor. Less and less human-produced goods are being allowed shipment by sea—the least costly means of cargo transport.”
“That’s terrible. How are people supposed to make a living if they can’t get their products where they need to go?”
Dash’s mouth tipped in a sardonic smile. “I suppose
that’s the whole idea.”
Ire welled inside Mara’s chest, threatening to explode. Would the injustices facing her species never end? For over a thousand years, Aurion humans had fought for equality—yet they seemed no closer to achieving the goal than the first humans who toiled in the vineyards beneath the harsh whips of the fae royals.
Out of nowhere, a large rock slammed into the side of the aerocoach. A screech ripped from Piper and she scrabbled for safety under the seat. Another rock hit the vehicle, making it shake.
Mara instinctively hunched her shoulders and ducked beneath the window’s edge. “Why are they throwing stuff at us?”
“The bloody crest on the hood.” Dash growled and rapped his fist on the divider between the cockpit and the rear compartment. “Get a move on. This crowd is out for royal blood.”
Ronan heeded the warning and the aerocoach rocketed past the screaming crowd. Several blocks down they slowed and everyone released a relieved breath.
Dash leaned back in his seat. “Exciting enough for you?”
Mara patted her chest as her heart slowly descended from her throat. “If that’s excitement, I’ll blissfully resign myself to a life of boredom.”
They drove a little farther along the coastline until a small inn popped into view. Ronan parked the aerocoach and stormed outside to check the damage to the vehicle. Once he finished his litany of curses, he joined them in their investigation of the potential lodging.
Weather-beaten shingles drooped from the inn’s exterior, many of them flapping in the breeze with a creaky whine. If a stiff wind kicked up, the entire place stood in danger of sliding into the ocean.
Mara dug for words of reassurance. “It looks…promising.” Okay, so she was stretching.
“It’s a dump.” Ronan—ever the optimist—thrust out his chin.
“Sure, it has its issues.” Mara nodded reluctantly. “But you have to admit the flower boxes on the porch are sort of homey and charming.”
Ronan’s chin regained its stubborn tilt. “There’s nothing in them.”
Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 Page 5
