By the Horns

by Rachael Slate

  The next time he came up for air and scanned the far side of the pool, she was gone. Thank fuck for that.

  Kassian finished his laps, shrugged out of his trunks, and slung a towel around his hips. He combed his fingers through his wet hair as he strode down the hall and into his room. Shucking the towel, he headed toward the bathroom.

  A woman cleared her throat.

  What the hell? He spun, intending to give Nat an eyeful of what one got when one walked into someone’s room uninvited, but instead of Nat, the Matchmaker perched on the edge of his bed.

  Her brow arched. Shit. Like a shy schoolboy, he shoved his hands in front of his junk. The bitch had probably already snapped a mental picture. Or video.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.” Hell, the smugness in the curve of her lips declared she wasn’t apologetic in the least. “I wish to speak with you in private before you leave with Natalie.”

  Kassian rubbed his free hand against the back of his neck. Fuck. Not more mushy talk.

  “She’s far more fragile than she appears.” The Matchmaker let her words hang in the air like she expected him to pounce on them. What did he care?

  He dropped his hand and pegged her with a stare, waiting for her to continue.

  She sighed. “I realize you didn’t want to ever see her again, but she needs the Snake more than you can imagine. Ox and Snake, they’re—”

  “Save it.”

  Her mouth parted and her eyes widened as though he’d shocked her with his brusqueness. “Pardon me?”

  By his standards, she’d dropped several degrees of respectability. This latest “talk” was nothing more than a setup. He didn’t forget for a second her interference in Sheng’s life or her day job.

  “I’m not your puppet. You may have set up Sheng and Lucy, but my love life is off-limits to you.”

  “I certainly hope you don’t think I intended to match you and Natalie. No, no, no, Kassian. I meant Ox and Snake are compatible. The two of you aren’t.” She folded her manicured hands in her lap. “Natalie has dedicated her life to me. I’m telling you this because she informed me of your past together. Of where your heart once laid. I wouldn’t wish for you to conceive the wrong idea about this mission or your future.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek. This was the same bullshit she’d put Sheng through. Did she assume it would work on him too?

  “Well, fear not, Matchmaker. No amount of reverse psychology is going to manipulate me into breaking my vows.” He bowed with a flourish. “As for my heart, don’t worry. It’s frozen solid.” He strolled into the bathroom, bare-assed and all.

  ***

  Nat readjusted the tube socks stuffed into the front of her slacks as she sauntered into the living room the next morning.

  Kassian’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  “I came here as a man. I have to leave as one.” She crossed her arms, refusing to fidget with her wig. Natalie Quan had never entered Malaysia. Jason Wong had.

  “Nice.” Fang grinned from the sofa. Lucy laughed. Sheng nodded in approval.

  Kassian frowned, scratching at the back of his neck. “Should I be concerned, because I am strangely aroused.”

  Nat rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. It’s a disguise, genius. Let’s go.”

  The other Chosen encircled her, bidding their farewells. Kassian stood off to the side, snickering. “You’ve got the proportions all wrong.” He studied her with more intensity in his olive eyes than she cared for.

  While the others went back to watching the action movie on the big screen, Kassian circled her. “What are you wearing under your pants?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take ʼem off. Let me see.” He reached for her belt, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, c’mon. No one in a million years is going to believe a little guy like you is packing that.” He twirled a finger toward her pelvis. Hmm. Perhaps she had inflated her ego. Didn’t all men? Biting her lip, she tugged her pants down over the boxer briefs. True enough, she wore boys’ underwear. Her waist was too narrow to fit men’s boxers.

  Kassian stretched the waistband, stuck his hand inside, and plucked out the tube socks. He unrolled them, tossed one aside, and proceeded to stuff the other into her boxers. “There. Much more believable.”

  He stood back and examined his handiwork, cocking his head to the side as he linked his fingers behind his head, biceps bulging enticingly. She tugged up her slacks.

  “Your breasts are too big.”

  “Um, excuse me?” This had to be the first time a man had ever spoken that phrase to a woman.

  “I can still see the outline. Trust me, I have way more experience picturing a woman’s breasts beneath her shirt than you do.”

  “Oh, I bet.”

  He smirked as he approached her. Without warning, he slid his large, warm fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and dragged it over her head.

  The compression bra she wore did a good job of hiding her breasts, didn’t it?

  Except as Kassian fixated on them, her breathing strained, causing her breasts to, well, heave.

  Yep, heaving breasts. Geez, Nat. Next, she’d be swooning at his feet.

  His gaze bored into the thin material, heating her to a feverish degree. “Well, what?” Damn her airy question. Why wouldn’t he hurry up? Get his inspection over with instead of prolonging the torment of sexual tension.

  “Ah…” He raked one hand through his short, dark locks while his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  He claimed he’d examined plenty of breasts, and while celibate, he wasn’t dead. His body responded to a woman’s, nothing more. She certainly wasn’t causing any spark of lust in him.

  “Uh, a jacket. You’re gonna have to wear a jacket. I’m not sure, ah, those can be concealed any better.”

  Snatching the shirt from his hand, she dismissed the backhanded compliment. She wasn’t interested in her femininity when her masculinity fell into question.

  After tugging her shirt down, she removed a jacket from her duffle, threw it on, and posed for his re-examination. His suggestion was good thinking. The sleeves covered the Lotus tattoo on her wrist too. “Better?”

  “Yep, and don’t forget this.” He withdrew her fan weapon from the back of his jeans and tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket. “And…just one more thing.” He leaned close, cupping her chin in his hand. Her lips parted on instinct even though he didn’t intend to kiss her.

  Did he?

  Oh, hell. Her heart pounded. Her mouth dried. She dipped her gaze to his lips, and…yelped.

  “Hey!” Her hand shot to her upper lip. He’d torn off her fine stubble. Her skin burned like an esthetician had yanked off a strip of hard wax. Usually, she applied a makeup remover to the hairs.

  “That hurt.” She pressed a finger across her mouth to stop the stinging.

  He shrugged. “The goatee was too much. The nose is great, though.”

  She scowled at him, vowing to slather hard wax over his face and rip it off in his sleep.

  Then they’d be even.

  ***

  Kassian chuckled at Nat’s fuming as they boarded the plane from the KL airport. Her disguise was much improved, not that it had been bad to begin with. He admired the ingenuity behind her cross-dressing. Only Nat would challenge the world the way she did.

  He cleared his throat before his thoughts steered in a dangerous direction. She shoved her carry-on into the overhead compartment with more force than required. Several people on the plane shifted to stare.

  “Jason.” He slid a note of warning into his tone. She jolted and met his gaze. He shook his head slightly. She bit her lip as if she’d realized she’d drawn attention to herself. What was wrong? As a Lotus, she ought to be a master at being inconspicuous. Her distraction did not bode well for their mission. Half of him worried they’d screw up their assignment, but the other half enjoyed witnessing Nat as a human being. He’d begun
to fear nothing of the woman he’d cared for remained inside her.

  Dammit. He clenched his fists. Musings like those were precisely why they had to get this mission the hell over with as soon as possible.

  After calmly closing the bin, she sank into her seat beside him. As she settled and strapped the seatbelt across her lap, he leaned in to whisper against her ear. “Did you put her up to that?”

  “Did I put whom up to what?”

  “Don’t play dumb. The Matchmaker paid me a visit.”

  She rotated her shoulders to face him. “She did?”

  His fists clenched tighter. First, she’d tried to apologize, then she’d sicced the Matchmaker on him. Now, she wouldn’t admit it.

  “Don’t play coy with me. I’m not one of your ‘targets.’ ”

  She blanched. Enough of a confession for him. He gave her his back and stared out the window. This was gonna be one hell of a long haul.

  The plane landed on time in Hong Kong. If possible, the population of the city had doubled in size since the Red Death. If one sought to get lost in a crowd of illegal activities, Hong Kong was the place.

  He hadn’t spoken a word to Nat since his accusation. During the flight, she stayed disguised as a dude. The real challenge would be once she cast aside the costume and he’d have to pretend to be her fiancé.

  They exited the plane and, after passing through customs, they took a cab to a hole-in-the-wall tea shoppe. One of the Matchmaker’s haunts. The lotus flower hidden in the “o” of “shoppe” on the store awning didn’t escape his notice.

  He paid the fare and trailed Nat inside. She whispered to the elderly woman serving tea, who led them to a back room. More of a closet, really. She ushered them inside and drew the bead curtain closed.

  He stared at Nat while she crouched beside her duffle.

  She unzipped the bag and rifled through her things. “Are you going to stand there and watch while I change?”

  Fuck. He spun around, fisting his hands. The shuffling of Nat undressing made his cock twitch. Yeah, if she hadn’t said anything, he would be ogling her.

  He couldn’t stop imagining her slender, lithe body wriggling out of those masculine clothes and into an outfit that hugged her curves. Or those soft, feminine breasts her compression bra didn’t conceal.

  Dammit.

  He clenched his jaw and focused on acting as a lookout. Good thing too because, not a minute later, the elderly tea lady raised her voice. He didn’t speak Cantonese but, apparently, Nat did.

  “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “We have to go.”

  He didn’t wait for an explanation. Spinning around, he kicked the duffle into his hands and snatched Nat’s elbow. The damn beads would give them away, but he placed his bets on there being a back entrance.

  He shoved Nat in front of him and tore through the curtain after her, spraying the floor with tiny glass beads. They crunched beneath their feet as he prodded her toward the rear of the building. They bolted down the short, narrow, dark hallway and through the squeaky steel door straight into the alley.

  They didn’t stop. He hefted the duffle over his shoulder and grabbed Nat’s hand. “This way.” He urged her on, despite not having a damn clue where they should go. She didn’t protest, though. Guess from whatever she’d overheard, his plan of “run like hell” fit the bill.

  She yanked her hand out of his to pump her arms harder. He followed suit, increasing his pace.

  Two blocks later, she dodged into an alleyway. “Up.” She snatched the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder and climbed. He pushed her bottom and hefted his body after her.

  Instead of ascending straight to the roof, Nat paused at the fifth story, crept onto the ledge, and climbed straight through an open window.

  He couldn’t call her back—that would draw attention to them—but he hoped like hell the apartment’s occupant didn’t own a gun. Clambering in after her, he cursed as he stumbled through the sheer curtains and got tangled in them. He ripped the sheets apart, tossed them on the ground, and stomped on them.

  “Are you finished? Because we have bigger problems than a set of curtains.” Nat perched her hands on her waist, fingers of one hand tapping her hip.

  “You gonna fill me in on what those problems are? Who was that at the tea shoppe?”

  She didn’t answer as she scouted out the apartment, veering into a room. He mimicked her, scanning the tiny, empty flat.

  “No one’s home.” She appeared back from the room, but continued to pace with an uncharacteristic restlessness.

  He stalked to the apartment door, twisting the lock open.

  She bolted to his side and slapped her hand atop his. “We can’t leave yet.”

  “Why the fuck not? Are you proposing we wait for the owner to return and shoot us?”

  She huffed. “For such a big guy, you’re a real pussy. No one’s going to shoot us. Well, not the owner, at least.” She added the last under her breath.

  How reassuring. “There’s a difference between cowardly and a strong survival instinct. I personally don’t wish to be shot today due to trespassing.”

  “This place is safe. Snake led me here.”

  “And? What happened at the tea shoppe?”

  She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “The owner gave us away, that’s what.”

  “To who?”

  “That’s not important.” She shrugged and dropped her hand.

  He lifted his brow, but she didn’t elaborate, so he plunked onto the sofa and propped his crossed boots on the table. Linking his fingers behind his head, he reclined and closed his eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? We have to wait here, and since you’re tongue-tied, I’m going to get some shut-eye. Didn’t sleep a damn wink on the plane.”

  Yeah, but she had. Her head had rested on his shoulder the whole trip, contributing to his lack of dreamtime.

  “Well, make yourself at home.” Her tiny foot tapped the linoleum. He tried to tune her out by focusing on his other senses, but the sofa’s musty odor didn’t help. Neither did the lump cutting into his back that, no matter how much he shifted, wouldn’t soften.

  “Dammit.” He leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. Yawning, he surveyed the room again, which had gone far too quiet. “Nat?”

  She didn’t answer. In this tiny hellhole, where could she be hiding?

  Nat intercepted the elderly woman in the hallway. The thin wiry threads of her grayscale hair had been combed back into a bun, and her baggy red sweater hung off her thin-boned frame. Around four feet tall, the mid-seventies woman jolted, clutching her oversized purse to her chest. Her gnarled fingers curled around the bag, and her gaze darted from Nat to her apartment door. Behind thick glasses, her sharp black eyes flashed in suspicion.

  “Néih hóu.” Nat dipped her head and held her hands at her sides, palms outward, to display no intention of harm.

  The woman eyed her before returning the greeting. Nat treaded forward. A surge of energy coiled inside her torso, lending her confidence. She continued in Cantonese. “My fiancé and I are in trouble. Please, will you help us?”

  Snake slithered inside her. The woman watched her, and slowly, her wrinkled face scrunched into a smile. Could she tell Nat hosted the Snake? Few humans were aware of the Chosen, but this woman might be.

  “My name is Natalie.” She extended her hand. The woman clutched her hand and patted it, introducing herself as “Mrs. Chen” and muttering the word “Snake.” Aha!

  The lady uttered a guttural compliance before she brushed past Nat and clucked for her to step inside the apartment.

  Weird, but easy. She’d take it. Hosting a spirit animal came with some awesome perks.

  As Nat passed through, she smacked straight into a wall. Omph! Wait, not a wall. A chest—Kassian’s.

  “There you are. Where the hell have you— Oh, néih hóu.” He inclined his head at the elderly woman, t
hen faced her and mouthed, holy shit. She shut his gaping mouth, patted his cheek, and followed the little old lady into the galley kitchen.

  “Yum cha?” Mrs. Chen set the pot of hot water to boil. The taking of tea wasn’t a choice. Nat just hoped the lady didn’t intend to poison them. She waved for Nat and Kassian to sit at the small round table in the dining space.

  Nat rubbed the back of her neck, eyebrows bobbing toward the table for Kassian to do as told.

  He frowned at her but, at the elderly woman, he flashed an enormous grin before settling his large body in a tiny wooden chair. Nat suppressed a laugh as he attempted, without success, to fit in the chair. Half his ass hung off the seat.

  She slid into the one opposite him. They had to lay low for a while here. This woman’s cooperation was paramount, so Nat shot him a scowl. Don’t mess this up, you ass.

  He retorted, throwing a hand to his chest, as though to say, “Who, me? You’re the genius with the brilliant plan.”

  Mrs. Chen shuffled to the table and placed the tea tray on the lazy Susan. She hummed the words “Snake” and “Ox,” cast them an approving smile, and poured tea into three porcelain cups. Aha. Mrs. Chen was on their side. Snake’s instincts proved right.

  As she set the cups on the table in front of them, Nat tapped the tabletop with the front two fingers of her right hand—the gesture was a polite thank you. The older woman offered her a stained-toothed smile.

  “M goi.” Nat thanked her and kicked Kassian under the table until he parroted her words.

  “Mh'sái haak-hei.” Mrs. Chen waved for them to drink.

  Kassian pinched the tiny teacup in his thick fingers as though he feared shattering it. “Bottoms up, eh?” He brought the rim to his lips, blew to dissipate the steam, and gulped. “Holy—” He choked and Nat sent him another swift kick under the table. “That’s…” He scrunched his nose, his throat hoarse as he hissed, “delicious. Mmm. You try some, Nat.” He planted his foot on top of hers to stop her from kicking him again.

  Nat narrowed her eyes at him as she raised the rim to her mouth and sipped the pungent liquid. Sweet, salty, and sour. Tasted like Suanmeitang, a traditional cooling tea. Forcing her features in a collected mask, she smiled at their host. “Sour plums and licorice root?” she asked in Cantonese.