“You’ll resemble the type of sex kitten Jerrick goes for.”
What about the type you go for? Refusing to give voice to the embarrassing question, she wet her lips. Dash’s eyes darkened and her heart skipped a beat. “Okay, color me convinced. So after I pour myself into this flimsy excuse for a dress, what next?”
Dash’s mouth slid into a dangerously wicked grin. “We troll for thieves, baby.”
Chapter Ten
The interior of The Fairies’ Grotto proved similar to the three previous party dens—dark, smoky and overcrowded with the occasional patron in need of a good antiperspirant.
Dash grimaced and tugged the hat he’d picked up from the Crystal Lodge’s clothing shop lower on his forehead. He leaned against the wall, keeping as far as possible from the offensively odoriferous person next to him without sacrificing his prime view of the bar and Mara.
Like a homing device, the curve of her thigh drew him in. Sweat broke on his forehead, crawling from beneath his hat’s brim towards the side of his jaw. Shit, he’d really set himself up for endless torture picking out that dress. If he didn’t get his hands on her soon, he was going to self combust.
Patience. He didn’t want to trigger any of her alarms by moving too fast. And that meant continuing the charade he’d been playing the past three hours.
He hadn’t been completely forthcoming with her. Jerrick most definitely wouldn’t be hanging out in these types of dens. Not unless he was suddenly hooking up with transgendered individuals.
Dash snuck a glance at Mr./Ms. Stinky. He or she noticed him looking and winked. Uh-oh. He shoved from the wall and hotfooted it towards the spiral stairway. The crowd surged around the base of the stairs, some heading for the Fairy Loft and others for the Troll Dungeon, forcing him to elbow his way through the undulating sea of people. Mara’s shiny blonde curls glowed beneath the bar’s spotlights in the distance. He quickened his pace. Pulling up behind her, he cupped her shoulder.
She jumped, jerking her head in surprise.
“Relax, it’s only me,” he said, brushing his lips close to her ear.
The shoulder beneath his palm lost its tension and she peered up at him expectantly. “Any sign of Jerrick?”
A twinge of guilt stabbed him in the gut. “Not yet. But it’s still early. Want your drink refreshed?”
“Um, I’ve had two already and my head feels kinda…floaty.” An adorable frown tweaked between her eyebrows. “Maybe I should go back to drinking boring old water.”
“Don’t worry. I’m here to ensure you don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning.” Good gods, I’m a bastard.
She smiled sweetly, her blue eyes trusting and innocent. “Okay. Guess I’ll have another of these. They’re really yummy. Obviously.” Giggling, she lifted her glass, rattling the ice cubes and fluttering the paper bumblebee swirling on the end of its stick. The bee’s face wore a pissy expression. No small wonder, having that stick shoved up its rump.
Dash looked over his shoulder and spied a miraculously empty booth. “Sher ’tian, why don’t you grab us that booth in the corner while I round you up another drink.”
“’Kay.” She hopped off her stool and strutted to the booth.
He tracked every sway of her heart-shaped ass. Her dress and the body inside it were steadily killing off his brain cells. Plan A. Just keep your head focused on the prize.
Minutes later, drinks in hand, he joined Mara at the booth. The velvet-upholstered bench seat creaked when he slid in next to her and settled her Killer Bee Sting on the slab of black agate sidelining as a coaster. He casually draped an arm across the ledge topping the tufted booth, ignoring his own drink. Mara snuggled her breasts against the rounded edge of the table and lust shot straight to his groin. Good gods, how could he concentrate on anything other than the tempting swells of those perfect globes?
Her lips wrapped around the straw protruding from the glass with a soft pucker. He silently groaned, his overactive imagination conjuring an image of those full, pillowy lips wrapped around his suddenly iron-hard cock.
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, savoring the residue of her drink with a faint mmm of appreciation. He swallowed hard. Kill me, now.
“Are you sure I should be sitting here?” Worrying her bottom lip, Mara glanced towards the bar. “What if Jerrick shows up and we miss him?”
“We won’t.”
Mara looked unconvinced. “It’s pretty crowded in here. He could slip in and out with us none the wiser. For all we know, we missed crossing paths with him all night.”
She was way too astute for a woman with two and a quarter Killer Bee Stings sloshing around in her stomach. “Here, have another sip.” He nudged the glass closer to her. “Believe me, if Jerrick crossed our path anytime tonight he’d have stopped by and said howdy.” If you could call planting a fist in my face the same as saying howdy. Definitely not a discrepancy Mara needed to be aware of.
The music pouring from the club’s high-tech sound system throbbed with an erotic beat. A couple—apparently too boozed up to feel remotely shy—writhed together in a close facsimile of sexual rapture. Mara stared at the pair, her eyes nearly popping from their sockets. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to chuckle.
“I’ve never seen two women dance so…close,” Mara said, her voice full of awe.
He wasn’t about to tell her the women in question were really men. Just another discrepancy she was better off not knowing. He reached for her drink, fully intent on reminding her of its presence, when a familiar face drifted past the writhing couple.
Every muscle in Dash’s body tensed. Son of a bitch.
Mara must have caught on that something was wrong because she leaned towards him with an anxious frown. “Is it Jerrick? Do you see him?”
Dash shook his head without losing contact with the face in the crowd. “A business acquaintance I’d rather not see at the moment.” That was putting it mildly. Franz Ciscero was one mean asshole. And that gentler side of his nature was reserved for his close friends and comrades. To everyone else, he was affectionately known as the King of Pain.
“In thief code, what exactly constitutes a business acquaintance?”
He didn’t miss the wariness in Mara’s voice. “I divested him of his prized thoroughbred Morrt’mar stallion.”
She gasped. “Those stallions are worth a million merca and upward.”
“I know. That’s partly why I stole it.” He kept his focus trained on Franz Ciscero as the man stopped to converse with a woman standing near the edge of the dance floor. A snake tattoo curled up the woman’s thigh, its diamond-shaped head disappearing beneath her leather miniskirt. She looked like one tough chick, capable of grinding Franz’s balls under the heel of her stiletto boots. Which explained why Franz was trying to make time with her. Ciscero always was one kinky bastard.
“What was the other reason?”
“Hm?” Dash kept his attention trained on the dance floor. The multi-paned glass ball suspended over the dancing couples threw prisms of blue light on Ciscero and the woman, creating an eerie effect across their faces.
“You said you stole the stallion partly for the merca. What was the other reason?”
“I saw him whip the snot out of a boy. I think the kid belonged to one of the workers in Ciscero’s textile plants. Stupid bastard found creative ways to punish workers who weren’t meeting their production quota.” He shrugged. “I could have given him a good ass kicking, but the horse theft hit him where it really hurt—his coin purse.”
Mara’s silence surprised him. Here he’d handed her a perfect opportunity for chastising his line of work and she chose to stay mute. He risked giving her a quick glance. An indefinable emotion softened her features and cast a dreamy glow in her big eyes.
Oh shit. The last thing he wanted was her looking at him with delusions of heroism floating in her head. Not when he had plans for her later involving his bed, the chaise lounge in the corner of his
room, and very likely the dresser and both end tables. If either of their bodies possessed an ounce of energy after all that, there was always the balcony. The idea of taking her from behind while she gripped the glass rail held great appeal. Hell with it, maybe they should start out there first.
Franz stepped away from the tattooed woman. Apparently he’d struck out. Dash’s grin slipped when Ciscero strode towards the bar.
Son of a— Dash jerked his head around, looking for any exits that wouldn’t cross Ciscero’s path, but spotted none. Damn it, he should have ducked out five minutes ago. He usually wasn’t this stupid. Mara and her dress had short-circuited his brain.
Thinking fast, he scooted close to her. “Okay, this’ll have to do.”
She frowned. “What will— Hey!”
Before the protest finished squeaking from Mara, he gripped her waist and dragged her onto his lap. He pulled her head down and pressed his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers. “Here’s the thing. Ciscero is approaching the bar. If he sees me, all hell is going to break loose. We don’t want that.”
A shaky breath escaped her and puffed against his chin. “No, definitely not. But I still don’t understand why I’m straddling your lap.”
“If Ciscero glances over here, he’ll take us for a couple lovebirds having a good time.”
“Um, I’m not exactly having a good time. The table is biting into my spine and one of the buttons on this seat is indenting my knee. Both hurt like a mother-you-know-whatter.”
He nudged the table back with the toe of his kidskin loafer before reaching for her leg and reshifting it. “Better?”
She nodded. Instead of removing his hand, he left it to linger on her silky thigh. His fingers brushed her skin lightly and he heard her breath catch.
“Ah…is he at the bar yet?”
Dash watched Ciscero amble past the bar and leave through the rear door. The sign posted over the door proclaimed it exit only. Unless Franz planned on walking all the way around the building, he’d just bid The Fairies’ Grotto good night. “Yeah, coast isn’t clear.” I’m going to burn in hell for this.
“What do you think we should do?”
His hand crept beneath the hem of her dress. “Put on a convincing act.” He followed the curve of her thigh upward until he encountered the stretch of elastic across her hip. She stiffened and he soothed her with a gentle knead from his fingers. “You’re wearing the same pink panties from our first encounter.” His voice sounded like gravel that’d seen too much tread.
She leaned back and stared at him. “Can you see through clothing?”
Thank gods he couldn’t. He was hard enough just dealing with the temptation straddling his lap. “I remember the little rosettes on the elastic.”
Her stare bypassed curiosity and went straight to incredulous. “Okay, you pay way too much attention to detail.”
He chuckled. “It’s all about the details, Sher ’tian. Any thief worth his salt knows that.”
“Oh really.” She made a snorting sound that turned into a hiccup. “See, told you I had too much to drink.”
Looking to get her mind off that subject, he curved his hands over the swell of her ass, his fingers barely teasing the edge of her panties.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Ciscero already.” Shaking his head, he cupped her butt cheeks, massaging them firmly.
“Ahh…no.” Her hands moved to clutch at his shoulders. “But—”
He cut her short by nipping her throat. She gasped and rocked forward, hips undulating. It was all the invitation he needed. With a growl, he pressed her against his erection, bearing up at the same time with blinding precision. Her hands dug into his shoulders and he gyrated his hips in a move guaranteed to make her eyes cross.
Her breathing rushed in a staccato stream past his ear, making lust bullet through his bloodstream. His control teetered a dangerous line. If he didn’t step back from the edge, he’d take her right there with an audience in full view. And he wouldn’t give a damn. He sank his fingers into her flesh, intending to ease her off him.
“Oh gods…I think I’m going to…” Mara stiffened, right before her body shuddered in climax. She muffled her keening cry against the side of his face.
He groaned, aroused beyond reason by the soft, feminine gasps breaking beneath his ear and the realization that she just came—at record speed, no less—in a crowded room. He wanted to give her an even more explosive orgasm in the privacy of their hotel room. Several of them. Tilting his head, he nuzzled her neck and released a ragged breath. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t think I can move,” she said weakly, slumping against him.
“Try.” Hell, he’d carry her if he had to. Whatever it took to get her naked and in his bed within the next ten minutes. Or better yet, five.
He lifted his head. At first she refused to meet his gaze, apparently embarrassed by what just transpired.
She finally looked at him, her cheeks wearing a pretty shade of pink. “What about your friend at the bar? And Jerrick? Shouldn’t we keep searching for him?”
“Ciscero left a few minutes ago. As for Jerrick, I doubt he’s still prowling this late.”
Sensing her uncertainty, he dipped his head and kissed the side of her neck. Sometimes a fellow was forced to play dirty. He felt the hitch in her breathing, right before she sighed.
“I guess there’s no point…staying.”
Resisting the urge to shout his triumph, he lifted her from his lap and took her hand. He paced his stride, trying not to rush her towards the exit. Outside the night curled around them, crisp and heady with promise. All his dreams were about to come true. In return, he’d make Mara one deliriously satisfied woman before the night ended.
He squeezed her hand and sent her a look of smoldering promise before rounding the corner of the building.
A fist came out of nowhere, plowing into the side of his skull.
For a second, the only things Dash could focus on were the spinning of his hat on the walkway and Mara’s shriek competing with the ringing inside his head. He staggered sideways, shielding Mara with his body. Whatever retribution Ciscero had planned was meant for him, not her. If the bastard so much as looked cross-eyed at her, he’d splinter every bone in his body.
“That’s been a hell of a long time coming.”
The deep baritone brought Dash’s body around in a jerking pivot. Oh bloody hell. He stared at Jerrick Hunter’s livid face.
Chapter Eleven
Mara stared at the two males facing off in front of her, her heart attempting to beat a hasty exit. What now? After the Gromache and the mechanic, she couldn’t handle much more excitement. But judging from the hostility brewing around her, the excitement was just revving into high gear.
She edged around Dash and the tall, muscular individual with the murderous glower.
The stranger’s gaze shifted to her, took its sweet time scoping every inch of her body, before flicking back to Dash. “Lost? This is my turf, asshole.”
“Your turf?” Dash gritted the words past clenched teeth. “Did you forget? If not for me, you wouldn’t know how to pick a basic lock.”
Mara groaned while the two continued to visually size each other for body bags. Hoping she wasn’t about to make a monstrously stupid mistake, she sidled between them and shot Mr. Tall, Buff and Angry a beseeching look. “Please don’t kill each other. I kind of need him.”
“Is that right?” The steel in the blue eyes trained on her melted into molten heat. “Why settle? The good time he gave you in The Fairies Grotto—I can do better. Way better.”
Scorching heat crawled under Mara’s skin. He saw what happened back there? She gulped and scouted for a handy rock she could die under.
“You were spying on us?” A dangerous undercurrent knifed through Dash’s tone. He stepped forward.
Wary of the aggressive energy both males radiated, Mara edged between
them. Her heel slipped out from beneath her and she tottered. A hand snagged her elbow.
“Let her go.” A menacing growl rumbled from Dash when his harsh command went unheeded. “Now, Jerrick.”
Mara’s mouth fell open. Jerrick? She whirled around, nearly toppling over again in the process. Unable to help it, she laughed. “Jeez, and here we almost gave up on looking for you. The sisters of fate are looking over me today.”
Dash muttered something beneath his breath that she couldn’t quite make out.
“Why the hell were you looking for me?” A scowl whipped across Jerrick’s face. “Sonofabitch. I’m the one you’ve been trying to bait the last three hours?”
“You were spying on us for three hours?” The incredulity in Dash’s voice matched his expression. “Good gods, do you not have a life?”
Jerrick crossed his muscular arms and the sleeves of his black tee shirt inched upward, revealing the lower half of an intricate tattoo on his right deltoid. “When I first spotted you tonight I figured I was seeing things, because no way would you be shit-brained enough to come back here.” Jerrick’s eyes glittered with malice. “Guess I was wrong.”
Okay, standing between two males who looked ready to beat each other to a bloody pulp obviously wasn’t the smartest idea. She tried wiggling free, but Dash bracketed an arm around her waist. Heat radiated from his palm and seeped through the silky fabric of her dress, making her uncomfortably aware of the intimate responses he provoked from her body. She tried to unobtrusively dislodge his arm from her waist. Her attempt only made his grip tighten.
“Does it really matter who was following who?” She disguised her clenched teeth with a forced smile. “Bottom line, we need your help.”
“Do you now?” Jerrick’s harsh laugh quashed Mara’s hopes.
It didn’t take a genius to realize the animosity between he and Dash wasn’t going away any time soon. Question was how deep did this rift between them go? And how much would it impact his willingness to divulge the whereabouts of the Rhyann rune?
Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 Page 11
