by Isabo Kelly
She’s a thief.
Victoria Flash, street thief and gambler, has spent her life scraping by on the streets of Dareelia, surviving and even thriving in the capital city’s underworld. But a chance encounter with a sexy and notorious King’s Own sets her on a path that could be deadlier than anything she’s ever faced. Something is brewing in her city, something that could destroy the world, and Vic won’t rest until she finds answers. If she didn’t have to contend with her overwhelming feelings for the King’s Own, she might even survive.
He protects the king.
King’s Own, General Jacob Marin is on the hunt for the source of trouble brewing in his city. When he happens across a clever street thief, he knows he’s found just the spy he needs in the underworld. It helps that she’s sexy and clever and oh so tempting. For a man who thought he’d lost his heart to his best friend’s wife years earlier, desire for the little thief is a welcome sensation. But when things get deadly and Vic’s life is in danger, Jacob discovers his feelings run far deeper than mere desire.
Then Fate comes calling…
Trust doesn’t come easy for Vic, but Jacob forces her to see a life she’s never even imagined for herself. First, though, they have to survive blood sorcerers, goblins, the possible destruction of the world, Jacob’s protective instincts, and Vic’s first trip into the woods. If they manage to live through their perilous mission, love and fate might just give them a chance at a future together.
THIEF’S DESIRE
Copyright © 2006 by Katrina Tipton
Reprint Edition 2017
© Cover Art by Cora Graphics
© stock / Depositphotos.com
Published by T&D Publishing
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Table of Contents
Introduction
Copyright
Title
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Isabo Kelly
THIEF’S DESIRE
Fate’s Hand Series
Isabo Kelly
Prologue
“Master Caul?”
The hesitant voice of his assistant brought the old sorcerer out of his reverie. “Come in, Henry,” he called quietly over his shoulder. “Close the door.”
For several minutes, Caul stared at the text before him, not seeing the words on the pages. A single candle on the table next to his book sputtered and danced in the air movement from the closing door. He didn’t turn to face his assistant.
“You sent for me, Master,” Henry said, matching the quiet tone of the older sorcerer.
Henry was always very good at reading his mood. “Yes. You've seen the signs?” The calm resignation in his voice couldn’t hide the current of worry. Or the fear. Caul hadn’t thought he would be alive when this time finally came about. An old man’s hopes for a quiet retirement. Some of the younger mages in the school believed the signs heralded the triumph of good over evil. Caul knew the balance was precarious at best, the battle between the two forces still to come.
“Yes, Master,” Henry murmured. “I’ve…I’ve witnessed what appear to be the prophesied signs.”
Caul’s head bobbed gently, understanding the hesitation in the young man’s voice. His former apprentice, now his assistant, wasn't a dumb or overenthusiastic youth. He had common sense and used his brain above his emotions—most of the time. “They are as they seem, Henry. The time draws near. In the north, a dark power grows. Even now, forces are converging on our city from many directions. The collision will shake the ground.”
“Master Caul, are you sure? Can we be positive that the time is so close at hand? Isn’t it possible the omens have been misinterpreted?”
His slow exhale was almost a chuckle. “Dear Henry. Always bound by the physical. You deny your other senses far too often for this connection to the substantial. Strange in a sorcerer of your skill.” Though, Caul could forgive the young man for his disbelief in this case. He didn’t want to believe the signs either, didn’t want to know what he knew, or see what he saw approaching.
The old magician finally looked up from his text, but he didn’t turn to face his assistant. His gaze focused on the stone wall in front of him, his thoughts traveling beyond, to the inevitable future rushing toward them. “No, Henry, the time is here. The power in the north has also seen the signs and is preparing to act now. There can be no more delay. She's been born.”
Chapter One
Vic looked closely at the faces of the other gamblers.
Big Charlie scowled at the cards in his hand, as his jaw muscles clenched and unclenched the scar running from his cheek to his chin danced.
Joe Missek watched the other players from beneath thick dark eyebrows, leaving his cards facedown on the table before him. He passed a steady hand over the top of his bald head and held his face motionless.
Riyack the Lean scratched his dirty neck with one hand and held the fan of his cards in the other. A scar on the left side of his upper lip gave him a permanent snarl.
Nathan Cap smiled pleasantly, wiping his brow with a thin white cloth. His ruddy complexion glowed in the dim common room lights, a sharp and gaudy contrast to his yellow hair.
Vic’s eyes narrowed. Could it be done again? The gambler grinned. “Devil’s High, lads.”
An angry grumble erupted from the other gamblers as they tossed their cards across the table.
Vic scooped up the pile of coins from the center of the table and deposited them in a leather drawstring purse, smiling at the large number of gold coins in the pot. A person could buy a lot with that much gold. And a draw that big would make Gip happy. But that hand had been about more than the gold on the table for Vic. A hint of triumph flashed through the gambler’s gut. I did it!
As the grumbling at the table continued, Vic decided retreat was the best option at this point in the night. Someone might catch on otherwise. “Well, lads it’s been a game, but I’m afraid I’ll have to call it a night.” Vic stood to leave.
Big Charlie shot out of his seat. “You cheated, you little beggar,” the large man bellowed.
Vic’s stomach clenched with apprehension. Damn it! Pushed it too far.
A quick look to the exit, almost exactly opposite the gambling table, confirmed it was too far to run just yet. Big Charlie had earned his name by being almost as round as he was tall, but his size belied his speed. The man could move like a crocodile. There was no way to reach the door with him looming so close. Not smart, Vic Flash. Not smart at all.
Around them, the other patrons of the Red Dawn Tavern quieted. Those sitting close to the impending fight sidled to the opposite side of the commons. Some patrons ducked out the door.
Vic took a deep breath, eyes trained on Charlie. Scold yourself later. Right now, it’s time to leave. “Listen, Big Charlie,” Vic began in a conciliatory tone, palms up and facing outward to halt the large man’s steps. “I just had a lucky streak is all. Cards fall as they will.” Just need to stall him. A few steps backward…
“No one gets three Devil’s High in one night,” Charlie boomed, grabbing Vic by the collar, effectively preventing any more of those few steps backward.
Vic swallowed, the movement made difficult under Charlie’s grip. Okay, so maybe the third Devil’s High had been a mistake. Worry about it later, Flash! Because calming the situation wasn't working.
Vic stared at the raging man and tried to speak around his vise grip. Charlie shook Vic, suddenly and hard, addling brains and concentration with the jolt. Whatever the young gambler had intended to say was shaken loose and lost. Dancing black spots had to be blinked away. It took several seconds for instinct to kick in.
Too long, Vic thought as the grip tightened, stealing much needed air. Way too long.
Time for the straightforward approach. Threaten back. In a move too quick for the eye to follow, Vic pulled a dagger from a concealed spot and pressed it against Charlie’s neck.
Charlie looked at the dagger against his neck, and his grip eased.
“I had a lucky night, Big Charlie. Let it be.” The gambler’s voice was quiet, but each carefully enunciated word sounded loudly in the now silent commons.
Slowly, Charlie released the crumpled collar of Vic’s tunic.
For just an instant, Vic felt relief leak past the anxiety.
Then without warning, Charlie captured Vic’s knife wrist in another vise grip, his big hand encompassing half of Vic’s forearm. “You threaten me with this poker, boy,” Charlie hissed.
His breath stank of stale ale and bar smoke. Vic held back a gag and turned full focus on the hand caught in Charlie’s grip. So much for threatening.
“Enough, Big Charlie,” Riyack whispered harshly. “You’ll break his wrist.”
With a sadistic snarl, Charlie said, “Good,” and twisted Vic’s wrist just a little more.
Exactly what Vic had been hoping for. A second concealed dagger appeared in Vic’s left hand, slashing a shallow line along Charlie’s huge, hairy forearm.
The big man howled and let go.
It was all the young gambler needed. Dashing past tables and startled patrons, Vic fled into the darkened city streets, heart pounding loudly with a rush of adrenaline. A furious roar erupted from the door of the Red Dawn, but Vic was already lost in the shadows of a nearby alley when Big Charlie charged into the street.
The heavy purse of gambling winnings hung at the thick black belt cinched around Vic’s dark brown homespun tunic. It remained safely hidden beneath a black cloak, the hood of which was now pulled up over the young gambler’s head. The weight of the money purse felt reassuring. Vic touched it, just to make sure it was secure. Not a bad night’s work, if I do say so myself.
Lip sucked in between teeth, Vic had to acknowledge that the night’s work could have gone better. That last hand had been a bad move. Charlie was right. No one got three Devil’s Highs in one night. The winnings were worth it, though. Gip’s cut would leave him happy and singing Vic Flash’s praise. And Vic had enough money now to last a few months.
Best of all, Vic Flash had done the impossible. No one could cheat at a table with Joe Missek. The man saw everything. But Vic had done it. Fooled Joe Missek’s eye. Three times! Few could claim that triumph. Next time, with a little more subtlety, a little more caution, not even Charlie would be able to shout cheat.
Smiling slightly, making sure not to show teeth, Vic watched from the dark alley as Big Charlie charged down the street a few yards. He was fast, but he didn’t have the stamina to catch Vic Flash in a flat-out run—especially when there was no sign which direction the gambler might have gone. As far as Charlie knew, Vic was currently pounding the cobbles toward safety. He bellowed once more, then returned to the Red Dawn, cursing loudly as he disappeared back into the pub.
A quick glance around the quiet, empty street and Vic let out a slow breath. Ah, survival. It was late, nearly three hours after midnight. Late enough to leave even this night-driven part of the city relatively still. Not a single witness to give Vic away.
Standing in the alley shadows for another few minutes confirmed that Big Charlie had given up any chase for the night. Vic inhaled deeply, feeling the excitement of the moment turning to satisfaction for the first time since Charlie shouted, “cheat”. The gambler turned to head back down the alley only to be stopped by a tall, dark figure leaning one shoulder against the alley wall.
Vic’s knife flew to hand. Damn it, how had he gotten there? Adrenaline surged back. Second mistake of the night. Vic was gonna get into serious trouble at this rate. Being in the middle of trouble wasn’t new to the gambler. But missing a stranger just standing there… That was bad. What if he’d been one of Big Charlie’s men? Vic swallowed. I’m lucky the only knife on display is in my hand and not sticking out of my neck.
The stranger hadn’t said a word while Big Charlie bellowed up and down the street, though, so there was a good chance he wasn’t one of Charlie’s. And if he wasn’t helping Big Charlie, then they could deal. Vic wasn’t about to lose all that hard-won coin to another thief—even if this man was good enough to hide his presence in the alley without alerting Vic’s street-honed senses. But they could compromise, Vic hoped. Without letting the man out of sight, the gambler scanned the alley, listening intently for movement from behind.
“Did you cheat?”
His voice was rich and deep. Not familiar. Vic looked him over as he stepped away from the wall and the dim streetlamps exposed his face. Definitely not one of Charlie’s men. Too wellkept for one thing. Dark hair hung to broad shoulders and surrounded a ruggedly handsome face. The man’s dark eyes reflected the lamplight, and his full mouth turned up in a half grin. He stood a foot over Vic’s five foot four. The dark tunic and trousers he wore were of a rich material, and a gold-hilted sword hung at his waist. The man didn’t look like a thief. In fact, he looked out of place in this part of town.
Vic’s heart thudded loudly. The knife stayed firmly in hand. “You weren’t playing. What do you care?”
“Just a question, boy.” The man looked down at Vic with an expression between amusement and indifference.
His gaze flashed to the knife, but he didn’t seem bothered by the underlying threat. He did, however, keep his distance. So he wasn’t stupid.
“Dangerous to cheat with those fellows. Kind of a rough lot for someone your age, isn’t it?”
Vic couldn’t help grinning, professional pride bursting through a suspicious mask. That “rough lot” had put a lot of money in that last pile. “I won. I’d say it was a lot rougher on them.”
A chuckle rumbled from the man’s chest. “What’s your name?”
“Vic.” There was something about the man, something in his expression. Or maybe it was the eyes. Out of place or not, he didn’t seem likely to try stealing a person’s gambling winnings. If Vic were being completely honest, there was enough gold in the hilt of his sword to more than cover the coin won that night. And he wasn’t getting too close, wasn’t making lewd comments or suggestive gestures. In fact, Vic got the feeling he was trying to look friendly, working not to intimidate.
Those impressions—and his distance—worked in his f
avor. Vic relaxed. At least enough to be curious. The knife disappeared, but Vic’s senses stayed trained on the alley gap to the rear as well as the man.
“Well Vic, if I were you, I’d stay out of the Red Dawn for a few weeks. Big Charlie’s slow to forget.”
Vic looked him up and down, once again taking in the high quality of his clothing and weapon. “You slumming it, rich man? How do you know Big Charlie?”
With another chuckle, he said, “I know everything about this city, boy.”
Vic grinned again. Everything, huh? “Well, watch your neck. Thieves are about this time of night.” Edging warily past the tall stranger and up the alley, Vic stopped just before the end of the building and looked back. “By the way, rich man, Vic is short for Victoria.”
With an indolent grin, she shot around the building’s edge and disappeared. The stunned expression on the rich man’s face kept her chuckling all the way back to the Hole.
Jacob Marin stared down the alleyway for several minutes after the young gambler had disappeared. “Victoria,” he said quietly, shaking his head.
Even inside the tavern, he hadn’t guessed, though he couldn’t claim he’d been paying that much attention. He’d come to this part of town for a quiet, relatively anonymous drink. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in a bar brawl. So when chairs started scraping across the worn wooden floor and accusations started to fly, Jacob only took a moment to notice those involved before he ducked out the door.
And was surprised when not five minutes later, the young gambler had come flying out of the Red Dawn to take refuge in the very alleyway Jacob was using to make sure the city guards weren’t needed. He had to admit to being impressed with Vic. He hadn’t expected him—her—to escape Big Charlie so quickly. The man could move like a crocodile over short distances. But there she'd been, safely crouched out of sight, while Charlie pounded ineffectually up the street.
