Spellbound with Sly (Middlemarch Capture Book 4)

by Shelley Munro

  Cinnabar shot to attention. It was him. The confident twin. Robust with muscles sculpted from physical labor, he made her breath catch. Self-assured, with a swagger that drew every female eye in the vicinity, the man possessed enough attitude to attract Princess Iseabal. Charm and kindness, too, Cinnabar noted with disappointment.

  The man was too decent for the princess.

  Princess Iseabal didn’t deserve a man like this, yet she’d have him, whether the man agreed or not.

  Her eyes widened as a large black leopard trotted up to the confident twin. The twin straightened and followed the big cat away from the pool area. Curiosity prompted Cinnabar to flit after them.

  The pair took a path, through an internal gate, past signs indicating the area was private, and entered a large bungalow. Several other bungalows clustered around the large one, and as Cinnabar watched, a number of dark-haired men and black cats arrived. Some of the men strolled up the path with women. The clear intimacy between the pairs indicated couples.

  Brothers. They had to be, given their resemblance. Ah, a family. At least two of the women bore a resemblance to the men.

  Cinnabar needed to listen to their conversation but entering the building… Dangerous. She settled for a window ledge and cocked her head, fascinated by the strangers. Perhaps it was the change in her monotonous routine, or maybe just determination to complete her assignment that grabbed her. After all, she had a slim chance Princess Iseabal might reverse the spell confining her to owl form if she completed her task.

  More than anything, she wished for a return of her normal life. She’d never complain about lady-in-waiting duties again. Never. Not if she had two hands to work with and a voice with which to express herself.

  A group of six men arrived, plus three more black leopards. They knocked and were invited into the building. The big cats…were they pets? Strange how they listened intently to the conversation.

  Cinnabar’s curiosity grew. She must get closer. She needed to listen closely to answer Princess Iseabal’s questions.

  One of the dark-haired brothers stepped forward and spoke. Unfortunately, Cinnabar was perched too far away, despite her excellent hearing skills.

  Those who she’d decided weren’t family spoke one at a time, before everyone discussed the points raised—or at least that was what Cinnabar assumed. She had to get closer. She glanced at the door. Still open.

  Before the next thought formed, she was inside the building.

  “Where did that owl come from?” an older woman asked, breaking into the conversation.

  Silence fell, and Cinnabar quivered, her heart speeding. Had she placed herself in danger?

  “I saw it earlier in one of the trees near the swimming pool,” Confident Twin said.

  “Are owls bad luck if they fly inside?” a tall woman asked.

  “Only if they poop,” the older woman said dryly.

  “Should we try to herd it outside, Ma?” another tall man with green eyes asked.

  “No, leave it until we’re finished. Maybe it will fly outside by itself,” Ma said. “What do we think about the latest guest arrivals? Is there anyone worthy of a true capture?”

  “There is a big lass who interests me,” a bulky man with blond hair said. “She is kind and has a sense of humor. My feline likes her. I do too. Her name is Rachel.” When no one else spoke, he continued. “I would like to keep her. Has anyone else noticed her? She has blue skin and pretty blue eyes.”

  “He’s gone,” someone from the back teased.

  “I trust my feline.” Creases of humor formed at the edges of the blond man’s eyes. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Anyone else?” A stern man, also with black hair and green eyes, scanned everyone.

  Fascinated, Cinnabar listened as they planned to kidnap—capture—the woman named Rachel. It sounded as if they intended to keep her here, rather than let her leave once her holiday ended.

  The stern man nodded. “All right, Greg. This is what we’ll do. Scarlett can dig deeper into Rachel’s background while you spend more time with her. You need to be sure, because once we take the next step there is no going back. Are you all right with that?”

  The blond man nodded decisively. “That sounds fair, Saber. I might ask Rachel to go on a picnic with me on the private beach.”

  “Entice her to go skinny dipping,” one of the other men who Cinnabar thought was a brother suggested.

  “That is a clever idea,” Saber said. “What do you think, Ma?”

  “Romance her. Learn more about her yourself. Her job. Her life. Where she comes from. Talk to her and listen. Make her feel important and half your job is done. You’re a good man, Greg. Rachel will be lucky to have you as a mate.”

  “All right,” Saber said. “Are there any other problems?”

  “Yes,” another brother said. “Those green women and their pointy teeth. Can we assign them to the holo rooms, for a capture that way? Let them have their way with the sex-bots, because no breathing man or his cock is safe near those teeth.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  Ma broke it with a saucy chuckle. “Felix!” She chortled, humor lines fanning from her eyes. “Joe. Sly. You should see your faces.”

  “Ma,” the unhappy twin—Joe—said, “Sly and I danced with them last night. Our backsides are bruised. We had to be nimble to keep ahead of them and their quick fingers.”

  Confident Twin—Sly—rubbed his backside, which set off more jocularity.

  Cinnabar remained perched on top of the curtain rail and listened to their teasing. At least she was learning their names. The twin she was interested in—no, the one Princess Iseabal intended to steal, was Sly. A strange name.

  Confident she’d learned enough to appease the princess, Cinnabar exited the room and flew toward the private portal to Seelie. Her Seelie being sensed the opening and, once closer, a faint blue shimmer outlined the arched entrance. Cinnabar flew at the doorway.

  Smack!

  Stunned by the collision, Cinnabar dropped and hit the ground with a croak. A wheezy screech emerged from her beak. It took long seconds to right her aching body and gingerly stretch her wings. Nothing broken. Ruffled feathers poked out at odd angles though. Her head rang. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  She limped closer to the portal and pressed one clawed foot against it. The solid surface refused to give. In desperation, she attempted to mind-speak, even though her success rate was nil.

  Her mind remained silent.

  Cinnabar screeched, stamping her right talon as she reached a horrid conclusion. She was stuck here until Princess Iseabal decided to open the door to Seelie for her.

  * * * * *

  Evening came and Sly wandered the resort, as did the rest of his brothers and staff, on the lookout for women on their own. As time passed, the clock ticking on toward midnight, he danced with several of the loners, using charm and gentle flirtation to make them glow with happiness. Saber grimaced at him from the dance floor, his partner one of the green women. Her pastel-green hair bore forest-green highlights and her right hand slid down his brother’s back.

  When Sly winked, he received the big-brother frown, the one that said he needed to shake a leg and ask one of the green group to dance. With a quick mental prayer, Sly picked the nearest green lady. This one wore her hair piled on top of her head, her beam displaying pointy teeth as he firmly placed her hand on his shoulder.

  Obviously, Joe and Felix had received the same silent order, along with several of their staff, because the dance floor became crowded with green ladies in slinky dresses.

  A pair of fingers slid down Sly’s shirt-clad back and smoothed over his arse. His partner pinched his butt and he jumped.

  “Stop doing that,” he snapped.

  “But it would be rude not to express my thanks,” his partner said, the green of her compound eyes brightening with an inner light.

  Sly froze. “That’s your way of saying thank you?”

  “Yes. It is also a sig
n of friendship.”

  Her teeth flashed, pointy and white. Sly barely suppressed a shudder when his thoughts veered to sex. So not gonna happen. Why the hell hadn’t Scarlett discovered this pinching custom during her research?

  “Why do you pinch so hard?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes. The male of our species has armor to protect him from our teeth. We have to pinch hard to get through his hide.”

  From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed his sister. Her hands covered her lower face and she stood with difficulty, leaning weakly against the wall, her shoulders shaking.

  Suddenly, everything was clear. She had known of this custom, but decided not to tell her brothers or the rest of the staff.

  He’d let Saber deal with their sister.

  “None of us have armor and your pinches cause us pain. Can I suggest, if you wish to express your thanks during your stay here, you pat my shoulder, like so?” He demonstrated with a quick rub of her shoulder. “Or smile and dip your head? This way.” He showed her what he meant by performing the action. “And say thank you.”

  The green lady caressed his shoulder, smiled and dipped her head. “Thank you.”

  “That’s perfect,” Sly said, while attempting to hide his cringe at those white teeth. “Would you mind passing that on to your friends, please? If they do this, they’re more likely to receive requests to dance and make friends with the men here at the resort.”

  “Yes. Yes,” the woman said and went through the sequence again. “Thank you.”

  The music ended, and Sly escorted his partner back to her seat and the rest of her chattering green friends.

  “Wait,” his partner said. “Yes. Yes. Let me demonstrate the correct method. Yes?”

  Sly nodded as the woman spoke to her friends.

  “Yes. Yes,” she said, turning to him. “This is the correct manner.” She performed the actions and offered her thanks. “Yes. Yes. Wait. They will want to practice.”

  Great. He intended to take his break after this. A walk on the beach, where hopefully he wouldn’t meet any lecherous women intent on groping his arse.

  Aware of his brothers’ gawks, he stood stoic while the entire group of females practiced saying thank you.

  Half an hour later, he scanned the room for Saber and found him with Eva, his mate, discussing supper, which was eaten at midnight when everyone needed a break from dancing. He checked and realized it was almost time now.

  “What was that about?” Saber asked.

  “My dance partner pinched me, and I asked her why they did that. Evidently, it’s a sign of politeness and civility on their planet. I showed her a better way of expressing gratitude. Scarlett knew all about it but didn’t tell us. I saw her creep into the room and laugh so hard, she was having trouble standing.”

  Saber’s brows drew together. “I’ll deal with Scarlett.”

  “Good, because my butt is bruised,” Sly said.

  “Mine too,” Saber said gruffly.

  “Poor baby,” Eva cooed, her eyes full of laughter. “I’ll give you a massage later and kiss it better.”

  An arrow of envy struck Sly even as he backed up, his hands clapped over his ears. “Please, spare me. I don’t want images of a naked Saber popping into my head.”

  “You’d better not,” Saber growled, but his eyes gleamed as he wrapped his arm around Eva. “Take a break, Sly. You deserve it. Masterly job.”

  The words of praise brought warmth to his heart, but he merely nodded.

  “Collect a plate of food from the kitchen before you go,” Eva said.

  “Thanks.” Sly lifted an arm in farewell. The scent of chocolate and cinnamon wafted to him as he neared the kitchen, plus hints of spicy tomato and cheese, or the Tiraq equivalent. His belly rumbled in anticipation.

  Sly halted on the threshold and searched for his mother. Not there.

  “Hey,” one of the workers said, his brows rising then drawing closer in a frown. His jet-black hair flopped forward and he flicked it away to reveal light purple eyes, narrowed in irritation. “You can’t be here. ’Tis busy.”

  “Eva told me to collect food to take with me.”

  The kitchen hand’s expression cleared to a grin. One of his front teeth was missing, creating a gap-toothed smile. “Miss Eva said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okie-dokie. If Miss Eva said, it be all right. Stay there. I be right back.”

  Sly obediently remained inside the kitchen door and out of the way. Someone had a crush on his sister-in-law. Saber had said she’d hired more staff from Dalcon, since none of their people wanted to work in the kitchen. They preferred the other jobs on offer around the resort.

  “Here you be,” the kitchen hand said, producing a basket. “Manfred told me to pack a drink for you too. Who you be?”

  “I’m Sly Mitchell.” Hard not to be charmed by this kid. “Eva is mated to my older brother.”

  “Ah, Mr. Saber. I knows him. He be leader.”

  “Yes, he is,” Sly confirmed. “What is your name?”

  “Taiaha,” the kid said. “Miss Eva give job, room to live.” He rubbed his flat stomach. “Food and currency. Like it here.”

  “I’m glad,” Sly replied.

  Eva had grown up in a poor part of town on Dalcon, and she’d found a way to help other youngsters who labored under the same disadvantages. His sister-in-law had a big heart. “Catch you next time, Taiaha.” With a wave, Sly hustled to the beach while he wondered what Joe was up to right now. He considered searching for him, so they could play hooky together. In the end, he turned away from the center of the resort, unwilling to lose this slice of freedom.

  The gravel path crunched under his boots and insects hummed, the sole sounds until he heard a masculine murmur and a giggle. He stepped off the path and into the shadows to avoid the approaching couple. An amorous pair.

  A feline snarl—sharp and full of warning—gave him a clue as to the identity. It was Greg and his blue lady. Rob…no, Rachel. Sly waited until they’d passed before stepping back onto the path.

  The gentle swish of waves lengthened his steps, and soon he stepped onto the sand, now dark but bearing a faint pinkish tinge during daylight. In fact, many things—plant and mineral—on this planet were pink. Something to do with the soil. The seawater, though, was a stunning jade green.

  Sly scanned the beach and the faint tension in his shoulders released. Not a single enamored couple. Perfect.

  He set the basket down to check his bounty. A blanket filled the top and he pulled it out, spreading it across the sand with a flick of his wrist. Starved, he opened a tin and pounced on the savories, consuming one then another. They went down with a quick swallow of crisp pastry and chunky meat in a rich gravy.

  From where he sat, faint and romantic music drifted from the function room. Colored lights added ambience and the floral scent from the gardens seemed stronger at this time of the evening. He didn’t know the identity of the blue and white flowers but their fragrance reminded him of cookie spices.

  A woman wandered along the path, the whiteness of her dress snaring his attention. Her face and hair hid in the shadows. She was behaving like a new arrival, her focus flitting from the sea to the gardens to the sand. As she drew closer, he heard her humming to the lilting music that drifted on the air. She started dancing, twirling closer and holding out her arms as if she had a partner.

  The moon peeked from behind the cloud cover, allowing him a better glimpse. Red hair, long enough to reach the middle of her back. Her white dress bore a large red stain on the front, but the mishap, presumably from a spilled drink, didn’t seem to bother her.

  Coming to a decision, Sly stood. “Would you like this dance?”

  She jumped, her hand pressing to her breast, her steps faltering.

  Blue eyes. She had blue eyes that reminded him of the owl he’d seen earlier, and her hair—it was the shade Ma described as strawberry blonde. He called it red. His first glimpse of her aroused his curiosity.

>   “Please, dance with me.” Sly held out his hand.

  Her blue eyes widened to match her mouth, and a chuckle tickled his tongue. Instinct told him to hold back the burst of humor. He’d hate to scare her, and he’d learned a thing or two from watching his brothers’ interactions with their mates…

  Holy crap. He shot a glance at the woman, his feline stirring in interest, in more inquisitiveness, in dazed wonder.

  His hand remained stretched between them, and a howl of victory pressed against his chest as she extended her fingers. Don’t scare her. He tamped down his relief, noting her shy glances. He wrapped her hand in a gentle grasp and drew her closer. The scent of fresh flowers drifted to him. Not the same as the ones in the resort gardens, but something more delicate. More like the wild flowers of Earth.

  “Ready?” His voice emerged gruff because the muscles of his chest had tightened. He—his feline—suddenly wanted to pounce.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her smile timid.

  He sensed she’d flee if he made the wrong move. Best behavior. He could do that. Sly listened to the music and waltzed, guiding his mystery woman around their sand dance floor.

  “What is your name? My name is Sly. Sly Mitchell.”

  “Cinnabar Taithligh.”

  “I haven’t seen you around the resort. What happened to your dress?”

  She glanced at the splotch of wine-red on her left breast and the skirt of her white gown. “An accident,” she said, her voice strangely hollow and despondent. “It was an accident.”

  “We can find my mother. She might be able to get out the stain for you.”

  “Thank you, but it’s all right. I think my dress is past hope. I wanted to enjoy my time here. The peace and the beauty.”

  The music ended and another song commenced. Sly kept dancing, his interest aroused by this lovely waif. Some of the women who stayed at the resort were wealthy and brought servants with them. Was Cinnabar a servant? A Cinderella who wasn’t allowed to attend the ball? Full of questions, he drew her closer and enjoyed holding her, enjoyed her floral scent, enjoyed spending his free time with this mystery woman.

  This time when the music ended, he drew back but retained his grip on her hand. “I came here to spend time alone and eat a picnic dinner.”