The lingering remnants of Mara’s outrage melted into a hot ball of chagrin. Shifting her head, she met Dash’s blazing stare.
Oh shit.
A gasp broke from Mara when the medic inserted the toxin remover’s needle-tipped prod into her vein. At the moment, Dash didn’t feel the vaguest sympathy for her.
The medic turned to him with an inquiring expression. “Anyone else?”
Dash shook his head. “The two of them were the only ones who drank the wine.”
Nodding, the medic tucked his lethal-looking device into the medicine bag and pulled out a roll of gauze and tape before walking to the bed. The elderly innkeeper backed up, her waterlogged eyes threatening to overflow. She wrung her hands and stared at Ronan. “He gonna be okay?”
The medic remained focused on the task of examining Ronan’s face. “Nose will likely be off kilter, and his headache must be a bugger. But he’ll live.”
Ronan yelped when the medic reset his nose.
“I swear if I’d known Ceris was a lowdown thief, I never woulda hired her.” The innkeeper sounded as penitent as a sinner seeking absolution.
Dash felt the sting of Mara’s scrutiny. Bad enough she thought him scummier than the bottom of Gael’dore swamp, now she obviously was running the comparisons between he and the server thief through her head. He wondered which of them she considered more despicable. “I need some air.” Furious at the gravelly catch in his voice, he stalked through the door.
Purple storm clouds gathered outside the small window at the top of the stairs, mimicking his mood. Folding his arms, he stared at the whitecaps breaking against the rocky shore.
Long ago, he’d stopped caring what others thought. So why did Mara dredge up old insecurities, make him long to be something better than what he was—a self-serving thief?
The sweetness of luna flowers teased his nose—an invisible calling card announcing Mara’s sudden presence in the hall.
“I’m sorry I overreacted, but how the hell was I to know she drugged the wine?”
Her statement rattled loose a memory he’d long ago locked away. Before it could sink in its claws, he mentally wrestled it back inside its padlocked box and turned the key.
Mara remained a silent force behind him. He practically felt her willing the words from him that would ease her conscience. They wouldn’t come. Not when the phantom of her harsh accusations continued beating against his brain. He might be guilty of many crimes, but raping a woman’s mind wasn’t one of them. The mere idea turned his stomach.
His lips curled in a mockery of a smile. “True. Makes more sense I’d magically taken over your body, doesn’t it? Particularly with my magic disabled the way it is.” Turning, he spied a flash of regret in her eyes.
A persistent moth dive-bombed Mara and she banished it with an impatient swat. The detoxification worked amazingly fast—no hint of paralysis remained in her limbs. “The drug obviously affected my reasoning.”
Perhaps to a certain extent, but there was more to it than she was telling him. Unfortunately, his bone-tired weariness outweighed his desire to shake the truth from her. He pressed his shoulder against the wall and noticed Piper darting up the stairway.
The sprite landed on the railing. “What’s going on? A crazy rumor is circulating downstairs. They’re saying someone was drugged.”
“The server girl slipped creotizine into the wine. I’m okay, but poor Ronan’s a little worse for wear.” Mara rubbed the spot where the needle stuck her arm.
Piper cocked her head. “What do we do now?”
Mara gestured to the room behind them. “We all try for a decent night’s sleep and hope Borgander’s ready for sailing in the morning.”
“Afraid that’s impossible,” the medic said, stepping into the hall. He tucked his bag beneath his arm before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “Your friend’s in no shape for travel. In addition to the broken nose, his lower back is inflamed and his head trauma needs close monitoring.”
Worry took up residence on Mara’s face. She plucked the hem of her top repeatedly between her fingers. “When can Ronan leave?”
“End of the week, at the earliest.”
Mara dropped her hands. “We can’t wait until then.”
The medic tugged the end of his dark beard. “Don’t know what to tell you.” After promising to stop by in the morning to check Ronan’s vitals, he ambled down the stairs.
Dash watched the indecision warring within Mara. Her shoulders lifted before slumping in tandem with her long sigh. She wore defeat like a horsehair cloak.
“Guess we’ll leave him here.” Her weary blue gaze searched his. “We’ll manage fine without him, right?”
He didn’t know what the hell waited for them in Mer’daca. Other than a shitload of his closest personal enemies. “You bet, babe.”
Chapter Six
Mara tried not to be creeped out by the crazy-eyed woman staring at her from across the Sea Surfer’s lounge, but the string of bird claws hanging from her wrinkled neck made it damn difficult.
She and the woman were the only ones occupying the room. Dash was brooding out on the observation deck and Piper was on another level of the ship, probably terrorizing small children.
Darn it, should have taken my chances with Dash. He might be cranky enough to bite her head off, but he was still way less scary than bird-claw lady.
The woman pushed up from her seat and approached Mara, her voluminous white cape flapping and the claws clicking.
Oh crap. Mara jumped from her seat and hustled towards the door leading to the deck. The woman intercepted her with a bony-fingered grip around her arm.
“I know what you seek.”
Mara gaped at the woman, her heart thumping alarmingly fast. “What?”
“The choices you’ve made haven’t been easy.” One crooked finger shook in Mara’s face. “Far more difficult ones are on the horizon, child. But choose wisely, and the deepest wish you carry will come true.”
Right now, she wished the woman and her bird legs would venture back to the other side of the cabin. “I’ll…uh…keep that in mind.”
The woman’s cloudy eyes returned Mara’s stare for several seconds. Abruptly, the claw-like grip slackened. Grabbing the opportunity, Mara plowed through the door and stumbled onto the deck. She rubbed briskly at the goose bumps covering her arms and ambled towards Dash. Her body swayed, fighting to keep balance on the mist-dampened deck.
Dash eyed her approach but remained silent. Obviously he was still sulking. She settled beside him at the rail and watched the silvered fins of the porpoises plowing through the waves. They didn’t stand a chance of keeping up with the jet-propelled Sea Surfer, but their efforts were admirable nonetheless and great fun to observe.
“They’re something, aren’t they?” The wind snagged Dash’s words and tossed them into the sea.
She felt ridiculously happy that he’d decided to drop the silent treatment. Clutching the ship’s rail, she turned to him. Her hair whipped around her face in a wild dance and he reached for the nearest strand, tucking it behind her ear. She shivered at the intimacy of the gesture.
Uncomfortable with the emotions swirling inside her, she waved towards the playful sea mammals frolicking in the waves. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
His dark gaze swept her face in a lingering caress. “Yes, I have.”
They stared at each other until the electricity snapping between them became overwhelming and she looked away. Her verbal attack yesterday wounded him. Despite what he must think, she didn’t enjoy inflicting emotional pain on anyone. But her need for vigilant caution hadn’t lessened. Dash wasn’t merely a fae thief—he was a Maddoc. Letting her shields down with him would be foolhardy.
“I’ve been mulling over what you said prior to us leaving Zalan.” At Dash’s frown, she leaned closer, using his larger frame as a wind buffer. “About not knowing where we’re going. I don’t understand how you lost track of the Rhyann rune.”
&
nbsp; A nerve jumped in his tensed jaw. “Trust me, it’s easier than you think.”
Not the answer she wanted to hear. She expelled a frustrated breath. “Then how do you propose we find it?”
He stared over her shoulder, his eyes an emotionless brown. “I know a man who might be privy to the rune’s most recent owner.”
Her mood lifted. “You think he’ll help us?”
“Not likely.”
She sagged against the rail. Why couldn’t anything be simple?
A shout sounded from one of the crew members manning the deck, and Mara turned as he sprinted towards the helm. Shading her eyes, she tried determining the source of the man’s excitement. Finally she gave up and looked at Dash. “What’s going on?”
“We’re nearing shore.”
She frowned. “We are?”
No sooner did the words leave her mouth, the rocky coastline of Mer’daca appeared in the distance. Within seconds, the cliffs morphed from inconsequential boulders jutting from the sea into massive outcroppings towering hundreds of feet above the ocean. Mara gawked at them while the jet ship suspended its propulsion rockets and glided into the bay. She remembered Dash’s dissertation on the orgeel’s love of caves and took a nervous gulp.
Additional crewmen scurried to their stations when the ship neared the pier pilings. Beyond the docks, the port city of Hagee sat nestled in the basin of the twin peaks of Mount Vire like an offering to the deity of volcanic harmony. From her research, she knew Vire hadn’t erupted in more than a century. She prayed the gods didn’t intend on changing that status quo anytime soon—at least not until her butt was safely parked on the Sea Surfer while it jetted back to Zalan.
The ship putted into a waiting slip and one last ker-chug from the engine signaled they’d reached the end of the road—for the moment. Buffeting winds no longer a threat, Piper flitted onto the deck and watched the lowering of the gangplank with them. Relief shivered over Mara when no stray orgeels thundered up the carpeted gangway and snatched them between its scaly claws. Instead, Captain Borgander stepped through the door leading from the ship’s bridge. No scales on him, but he did have rather reptilian eyes.
“Again, my apologies for the late arrival.” Borgander smiled, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth and a solitary gold tooth. “Can’t keep the ladies off me, it seems.”
Really? Mara shuddered at the idea of him rutting away on some poor female like a shaggy, potbellied wartobeast.
“Have the dockmaster contact me when you’re ready for pickup.” After tipping his cap, the captain waddled back into his quarters.
With nothing left to do, they abandoned ship. Their bags waited with the rest of the Sea Surfer’s cargo on the pier and after collecting them, Mara and Dash walked the short distance into town with Piper fluttering overhead.
Steel-sided buildings clustered tightly together on the other side of the dusty road. They possessed a disreputable quality, as if the simple act of looking at them might infect the casual observer with the black scourge.
“This place doesn’t look very friendly.”
Mara mentally agreed with Piper’s assessment.
“That’s the point,” Dash said, his gaze diligently scouting the area. “They don’t want folks lingering.”
Mara shot him a curious glance. “Why?”
“Sher ’tian, stuff goes down in hellhole places like this you’re better off not witnessing.”
She gulped past a lump of anxiety. “We’re uh…not staying long, are we?”
“Not if we wish to live.”
Sucking in a breath, she hastened her step to keep up with his long strides. They approached one of the shady-looking structures. The wind whistled an eerie tune between the sheet metal riveted to the exterior, and apprehension slithered down Mara’s spine. “Is it really necessary we go in there?”
Dash didn’t answer, merely tightened his fist around the handle of his bag before elbowing the door open and striding inside. After sharing a mutual shiver of the heebie-jeebies, Mara and Piper darted through the swinging steel door. A thick blanket of acrid smoke swirled in the air. Mara choked on a cough. Thunking her valise to the ground, she covered her mouth. Here she thought the rotting fish were stinky.
Bare light bulbs swung over the scarred wooden bar situated near the far wall, casting lambent yellow shadows over an assortment of tattooed males smoking from Huluki pipes.
“I thought those pipes were outlawed,” Mara blurted in surprise.
Dash slid her a quick look, his jaw tight enough to crack the toughest fruta nut. “From here on out, don’t open your mouth.” His expression turned fiercer when she threatened to disobey his command. “Damn it, Mara, these men don’t abide any laws, and your fool tongue is two steps from getting us killed.”
Scowling, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her corded vest. When put like that, how could she argue?
One of the males glanced at them, shock freezing him in place when he spotted Dash. He elbowed his nearest smoking partner, who granted them the same incredulous stare before poking the next fellow. Soon they owned the entire room’s attention.
“As I live and breathe.” The male occupying the last stool hefted his considerable bulk from his seat and crossed the room with an arrogant swagger. His bloodshot eyes traveled over Dash. “Rumor is you’re dead, Rhyder.”
Dash lowered his bag but didn’t relax his rigid stance. “Then I must be the healthiest dead bastard around.”
A chuckle shook the other male’s shoulders and he clasped Dash in a hearty embrace. Mara blinked. She would never have placed the pony-tailed ruffian for a hugger. He stepped away from Dash and took his time giving every inch of her a thorough inspection. “Understandable, when you’ve got your own personal nursemaid.” He winked and nudged Dash in the ribs.
Mara opened her mouth and Dash sent her a warning stare. She closed it with a jarring click of her teeth. This’ll be hard. Real hard. Resisting a swear word when the mop pail runs over your foot hard. And she hadn’t managed very well when that unfortunate occurrence happened, so who the hell knew how she’d fare with this.
“Plan on stayin’ in the area?”
Dash shook his head. “Just long enough for a snatch and run.”
The other male’s bushy brows lifted. “What’s the stake? Anything I know?”
“No.”
Mara glared at Dash’s profile. Why didn’t he mention the Rhyann rune? Maybe his friend knew something of its whereabouts.
Before she could bring up the possibility to Dash, he cleared his throat. “Know where I might find Jerrick?”
The other male’s expression teetered the fine line between shock and bafflement. “Jerrick?” He scratched the back of his head, his thick mustache twitching. “Sure you want to poke in dark corners lookin’ for him?”
A strange tension surged from Dash. It attached itself to Mara, feeding her own worries. He didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect of seeing this Jerrick fellow. Maybe they should consider an alternate plan. Much as she wanted to get her hands on the Rhyann, she didn’t want them to needlessly endanger themselves in the process.
“Don’t have much choice.” Dash punctuated his pronouncement with a stiff shrug.
“Last spotted him skulking around one of Tul’dea’s party clubs. Plenty of rich marks for the taking in those parts.”
So Jerrick was a thief. Why didn’t that surprise her?
Dash reached for his bag. “Thanks, Hondal. One of these days we’ll tip a couple Ginnishes and catch up on old times.” He grabbed Mara’s arm and spun her towards the doorway. Piper shot past them, an indistinct blur as she hot-winged it to the exit.
Outside, Mara blinked against the sun and jerked from Dash’s grip. “Am I allowed to talk now?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I’m going to anyway.” She poked Dash in the chest, forcing him to take a shuffling step back. “I deserve a few answers, damn it.”
Dash’s harsh laugh
grated against her nerves. “Priceless—the woman who’s a walking enigma demanding answers.”
“I’m not keeping anything from you.” At least not anything that could potentially put his life at risk. Could he say the same? “Why didn’t you tell your friend we’re looking for the Rhyann rune? Didn’t it occur to you he might know where it is, therefore eliminating the need for tracking down this Jerrick?” Whoever he is.
His face reminded her of a granite mask—hard and unyielding. “Hondal and I are business acquaintances, not friends. Which is why I sure as hell don’t want him to know we’re after the rune. Thieving faes are a backstabbing, untrustworthy lot.” She cocked an eyebrow and he scraped his boot in the dirt. “Yes, I include myself in that description.”
She appreciated him acknowledging the fact but found his logic a tad skewed. “If all thieves are backstabbers, what makes you think we can trust this Jerrick fellow?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. We need him.”
“Why?” She nearly cried the word.
A vein visibly throbbed above the scar marring Dash’s forehead. He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. She wanted to throttle him for being so stubbornly tight-lipped. Slamming her valise against her shin, she began walking away, stirring up dust with her angry march.
“Because I didn’t steal the rune. He did.”
Chapter Seven
Sometimes admitting the truth freed a person. Other times it settled in the gut like soured milk. Right now, Dash figured he was suffering the mother of all indigestion.
Mara stopped dead in her tracks and executed a slow pivot. “Mind repeating that?”
“Must I?” Once was hard enough. Saying it again would be akin to ripping his toenails out.
She nodded and he hung his head in resignation. “I didn’t steal the damn rune.”
“Then why did Finian accuse you of taking it from his family’s vault?”
He rubbed his forehead, wishing for a handy wall to bang his skull against. “Long, boring story.”
Her expression suggested she wouldn’t let it end there. Of course not, she possessed the stubborn mindset of a Mer’daca mountain mule. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the entrance of the bar. No one lurked in the doorway or anywhere on the street, but fae thieves were skilled eavesdroppers.
Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 Page 7
