Hot breath grazed her neck. She shivered. Something deep inside her ached. Her heart raced. Lips pressed against her skin, teasing her throat. A gasp escaped her.
Asher kissed down to her chest, heat spreading with every touch. His hands drew her tight to his chest, and then wrapped around her head and neck. He tilted her head up, fingers clumsy in her hair. She smiled and a bubble of laughter slipped through her euphoria.
His hungry eyes sought hers. She gripped his arms, holding on for dear life. Her world swayed and spun, the warmth all-consuming, overwhelming. She felt his hunger like it was her own. Narra bit her lip, unsure what this hunger meant. She reached for his face, touching his cheek gingerly. His jaw was solid, his nose straight, and his lips wide.
She knew what she wanted.
Narra leaned into the general, her lips finding his. While she kissed uncertainly, he led her lips, pressing urgently, desperately forward. His arms wrapped her waist and pulled her onto his lap .
She gasped against his mouth, air pulling from her lungs. His tongue slipped in given the opportunity, seeking hers. The general led her until his kisses again descended to her neck. Sparks flared across her skin.
A mess of brilliant color, beautiful faces, and dangerous animals flashed in front of her. Warm sandalwood and rose filled her nostrils.
His hands dragged down her upper back, leading a trail down her spine to her hips. One of the dolls left more beautiful drinks and smiled with abandon. More gorgeous faces, curved bodies, and hot hands.
Narra drank and Asher touched, leaving her on fire with each passing moment.
His lips sought hers again and she embraced their sweetness. But something lurched in her stomach. Chill air brushed her bare shoulders and crawled across her skin. She pulled back. Something vile rose from her abdomen to her throat.
Fear stole ecstasy and she leapt from the booth.
She pushed through the swirling lights, haunting sounds, and startled bar maidens. Narra slipped through the curtains to the main hall. Everything lessened, but the souring continued, rising and rising. A small door to the toilet sat a few feet away. She dove for it, ripping it open, and slamming the door shut.
Everything fled her stomach at once, bitter, sweet, and distasteful.
Narra curled up on the floor next to the commode. Cold stole her warmth. She shivered against the wooden floor. The tilting world slowly righted itself. The spinning ceased and she was able to sit up.
Her stomach was hollow, her throat burned, and her mouth soured. She shook her head and stood. What had she been thinking? What was that? She’d never experienced such a thing.
Warmth slowly returned, not the all-consuming fire of euphoria, but not cold as ice either. She flattened her gown, smoothed her hair and took a few deep breaths before stepping out from the stall.
Asher stood a few feet away, eyeing his boots with a look of guilt plastered on his face. Narra narrowed her eyes. Though he’d been drugged as well, he’d taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state. Her fists clenched as she remembered his mouth on her neck and her hands in his hair. The worst part was, she’d liked it.
She sighed. It wasn’t his fault, and she knew it, but still anger burned to life.
“Forget it.” Narra stepped up to join him. His brown eyes found hers. “It never happened.”
He searched her gaze for several moments before he nodded. His jaw set and he cleared his throat. “All right.”
“We need to find Mistress Maxina.” She adjusted her sleeves, pulling the daggers forward in case she needed to grab them quickly. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
“Her office is on the second floor,” he said. His large hands fumbled with his suit, straightening it. Narra suppressed a shiver. Hazy memories of his hands on her clung to her mind. Even as she commanded them away, they lingered. Was she fooling herself? Had she wanted this all along?
She shook her head. That couldn’t be. She’d never want someone like him.
Asher took the lead, heading down a narrow hall. A line of lanterns lit the walls until they reached a staircase. Light shone from the second floor above, spilling down the oak stairs. Red carpet silenced her heels and his boots. Her heart raced. Finally, they were getting somewhere.
Instincts took over and she stepped ahead of Asher. A harsh female voice sounded over the vibrations from below. A softer male voice joined the Mistress’s. Asher nodded to a door at the top of the stairs. Shadows danced behind the clouded glass panes, one with the beat below.
Narra went to the door, her hand hovering inches over the ornate brass handle. She didn’t glance at Asher, though she was sorely tempted to. She shook the image of his face bathed in purple light from her mind. This wasn’t the time.
She swung the door open.
Inside the office, a man and woman spun towards the door with wide eyes. Dressed in a gorgeous violet gown, silver jewelery adorned with diamonds, and thick, dark hair piled atop her head, Mistress Maxina was beautiful, even in her old age. She got over her surprise quickly, glowering at her unwanted guests.
“Who are you?” Maxina barked. A pipe smoked at her hip where her hand rested. Tobacco drifted from its mouth. Narra wrinkled her nose at the bitter and pungent odor.
The man—wide, dark-skinned and familiar—stepped forward. The bouncer from outside folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m here for something of Captain Avalon’s.” Narra stepped inside, ignoring the glare of the bouncer as she met Maxina’s brown gaze.
The older woman’s face softened, amusement taking over. She waved off her guard. “Ah, yes. I knew someone would come for her eventually.”
The bouncer stepped aside, letting Narra and Asher further inside the square room lined with bookcases, shelves, and dozens of vials and bottles of beautifully colored liquids. Narra skirted a small sitting area at the front of the room and stood behind a dark oak cushioned seat.
“General,” Maxina greeted with a nod. “I see you have a new consort.”
Asher’s cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. “Mistress,” he greeted.
“I am not his consort.” Narra’s brow twitched. She was there on business. She wouldn’t let Asher get in her way.
“I see.” Maxina raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, her dark gaze flickering between the pair. A taunting smile pulled at her lips and she took a seat in her high-backed, purple, cushioned office chair. Its wheels squeaked beneath her weight. “She isn’t your usual type, General.”
Asher stiffened and set his jaw, clearly as uncomfortable in Maxina’s presence as Narra. “No,” he agreed.
Maxina’s dark eyes scanned Narra from head to toe. “Are you an assassin or a thief, my dear?”
Narra’s fists clenched at her sides. It took all of her willpower to keep the shock from her face. How could this woman know anything about her from simple looks alone? Without her many weapons, she couldn’t imagine how the mistress would get this idea.
“Hmm, not a Daughter of Ashra.” Maxina smirked, her gaze continuing to roam. “If you were, you wouldn’t have come with the general.”
Narra’s eyebrows furrowed. A Daughter of Ashra? They were only a myth. The cult harbored women, and were worshippers of Lady Death. They protected and served beneath her dark power: men haters, murderers, and thieves. It was said they did whatever the Goddess of Death asked—no matter the cost. Narra shifted uncomfortably. Maxina had to be mad.
“No, I’d say you’re a thief, possibly in high standing.”
Narra exchanged a glance with Asher, whose confusion mirrored her own.
Maxina stood suddenly, her palms slamming against her desk. “You’re here for the antidote then,” she said.
“Yes.” Narra bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t trust this woman for a moment.
The mistress nodded and moved to the shelves beside her desk. She dug through bottles of every color, glancing at labels before tossing them away. Narra stepped back to avoid the glass bottles, which so
mehow didn’t shatter. They rolled across the carpeted floor, disappearing into the shadows of Maxina’s furniture.
“Here we are.” Maxina straightened and turned to the thief. Before placing it in Narra’s extended hand, she retracted her fingers, holding the small bottle to her chest. Her eyes roamed Narra again before settling on her blue gaze. Narra raised an eyebrow, her lips flattening. She didn’t have time for games. “What does the pirate have on you?”
Narra glared. She didn’t owe this woman anything.
After a long moment of silence, Maxina rolled her eyes and placed the vial in Narra’s hand. “Fine. Tell Avalon I wish her sister well.”
Her sister? Narra’s brows pulled together. No wonder Avalon’s mood had turned so quickly. If her sister had been poisoned by a Rovan concoction, she was surprised Avalon trusted her to fetch the antidote. Then again, she did desperately need information from the pirate, and Avalon had claimed she couldn’t get to Maxina alone. Narra was inclined to believe the captain considering she wouldn’t have gotten through the door without Asher.
“I’ll tell her.” Narra tucked the antidote into her hand and stepped away from the mistress, who eyed her beneath thick lashes.
This was too easy. It had to be. Narra glanced down at the bottle. Violet liquid swirled inside. She had no idea what the antidote should look like, nor did she have any idea what the original poison was. She hoped this would be enough for Avalon to give her, her answers, no matter what laid inside the vial.
Asher strode into the hall first and Narra wasn’t far behind. He rushed to the stairs, his shoulders rigid, and his jaw set. Narra followed, her racing heart finally slowing. Asher’s back didn’t relax until they reached the main corridor. He glanced at her over his shoulder.
“So, you got what you were looking for?” he asked.
“I suppose so.”
“How do you know Maxina was telling the truth?”
She met his brown eyes. “I don’t.”
Asher nodded and faced the entrance. His boots beat the wood until they slipped into the entry room. A doll-woman waved goodbye and winked as they slipped through the curtain and out into the night.
“At least we’re finally out of there,” Asher said. He stepped down the concrete walk until his boots hit cobblestone.
Rustling in the bushes stilled her feet. Asher froze. Four Patrolmen emerged from the darkness of the street, swords and batons in hand.
Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. She carefully slipped the thin knives from her sleeves into her palms, hidden by the folds of her skirt.
She would not let these men take her back to the dungeons.
N arra flew past the general and flung herself over the short cobblestone fence. Her boot slammed into the chest of a patrolman, sending him to the ground. She spun before the next was on her, flicking her knife into his abdomen. He sunk to his knees.
“Rheka!” Asher gasped.
She leapt from the path of a short sword, its blade slicing the air inches from her face. Narra growled, fire fueling her veins. She threw her body to the side, ducking swords and violent hands.
“Stop this at once!” Asher snapped. The Patrolmen didn’t listen. They had no idea who he was.
Narra parried a blade with her knife and spun from another.
“You’re under arrest!” one of the Patrolmen barked.
Their faces blurred as she artfully dodged their strikes. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The man she’d sent to the ground rose to his feet and joined the remaining two. The one with a knife in his gut remained where she’d left him.
She’d never surrender. Not again. Not until she was dead.
Narra’s boot collided with one of the men’s hands, sending his short sword clanging across the cobblestone. Now was her chance. She dove beneath their blades, rolling over her head and back to her heeled feet. Even in a skirt of a thousand ruffles she made it to the discarded sword. She swept it from the ground and spun to face her attackers.
Three swords faced her. They weren’t good odds, but she didn’t have back up. She couldn’t count on Asher to jump in, and wouldn’t expect him to. It’d be treason to fight these men when they were just doing their job.
The tallest of the three lunged, a roar at his lips. His footing was off, sloppy. He had to be a recent recruit. Narra ducked his blade and he sailed passed. She rammed her elbow into his spine as he went. He lost his balance and fell with a loud thump .
The broadest, oldest patrolman tried next. His skilled blade shot towards her abdomen, her throat, and then her cheek. She dodged back and forth, the wind of his blade brushing loose strands of orange hair from her face.
“As General of the Emperor’s Armies, I command you to stop at once!” Asher bellowed.
The patrolman paused, giving her time to knock his blade from his hands and drive her hilt into his skull. His body hit the ground unconscious.
“General?” the last man said. He turned to Asher. Narra whipped her heel out, knocking him from his feet.
His skull cracked off the cobblestone and he lay motionless.
Her heavy breaths stilled and she dropped the city issued short sword. Its metal clanged against the smooth stone between the body of its owner and another man.
“Emperor’s ancestors!” Asher spat. He stepped forward and reached for her dress as if he would threaten her. Narra slapped his hand away and narrowed her eyes. “What was the meaning of that?”
Was he serious?
“They were going to arrest me and send me to the stockades, again. ” She placed her hands on her hips.
“You didn’t need to kill them all!”
“I didn’t.” Narra rolled her eyes. Did he think her so weak? So foolish? She was more controlled than he or any of his soldiers. “They’ll wake when we are long gone. I don’t kill so easily.”
“Really?” he growled.
How childish. Even if he was a decade or more older than her, he might as well be a babe if he thought she’d fought to kill. She stepped from his path, over the unconscious Patrolmen and made her way down the street. Her heels clacked on the cobblestone. She winced. This was not her usual stealthy attire.
“Rheka!” Asher stomped after her, mere paces behind. “Why did you do this?”
She spun, fire burning up her throat. “I will not be hung again for your failures as a parent!”
Asher stopped. His eyes flew wide and his breath whisked from his throat in a huff. His jaw dropped. The fire burning inside her dimmed. His eyebrows cinched and a look of shock turned to something much worse.
Hurt.
She groaned internally. Not now.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said.
Narra raised an eyebrow. There was always a choice, and he chose his son over the life of another. She worked her jaw and took a breath, relaxing her stance. She hated that part of her understood.
“I was never there for my son. That’s why he is this way.” Asher shook his head. His eyes fell on the cobblestone street.
“What way?” Narra cocked her head to the side. It didn’t make sense that a father could care so much for their child. Hers had trained and tortured her endlessly. Erik’s had beat him and his mother to within an inch of their lives, and then he did it again. Yet, Asher clearly cared for his son in a way she’d never seen before.
Asher parted his lips to speak and then closed them again. Silence grew between them. When he finally glanced up, his dark eyes glazed beneath the streetlamp. Narra started. Was he truly so upset? What could be so bad that he’d do all of this? How was he not there for his son, yet did so much for him? Envy flared inside her .
It wasn’t fair that such a man would love his son, but her father had never loved her. Her heart lurched and she clenched her fists.
“I never knew I had a son until a few years ago.” His voice wavered. “When we met, it was only because his mother could no longer control him. For fifteen years she kept him from me, my own son. He’s…
he’s a psychopath.” Asher shook his head. “I have no other word to explain what he is. He can’t help himself. He kills. I clean up after him.” Narra’s eyes widened. “It is my duty to protect him. I was never there, and it’s my fault. I can’t blame him for the way he is.”
Narra stepped away, shaking her head. Her fire turned to ice. Shivers climbed her spine and goosebumps rose on her flesh. No. This kind of love didn’t exist. If his son was a murderer, why would such an honor-bound man care so deeply? How did he care so deeply?
“How could you do that for him? How could you?” Her voice was quiet and weak. Her lips quivered.
Asher’s lips twitched in a humorless smile. “When you love someone enough, you’ll do anything to help them.”
Narra clamped her lips shut and clenched her fists against the shivers threatening to overtake her very being. “But he kills people, and you assign the blame.”
Asher winced.
“Have you never killed anyone?” he asked.
Narra started. The open street was suddenly too open, like her chest—vulnerable. She squashed it before the panic could rise.
“I have,” she admitted. She took even breaths, but couldn’t still the rhythm of her heart. Why was she speaking with him about this? Why would she tell him that? She never spoke of those she’d killed.
“In battle?”
Narra paused and shook her head.
Asher’s face hardened to a general’s. “How many?”
He thought her an assassin, a killer in the night. And why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know her, or what she’d done to survive. She sighed. “Two. My mother when she gave birth to me… and my best friend’s father. ”
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open almost comically. Was it really such a surprise?
“Why would you kill your best friend’s father?” Shock registered in his voice. Should she tell him? Should she bother?
Narra shifted from foot to foot, embarrassment warming her cheeks. She avoided his gaze until he stepped closer. The movement startled her into stepping away. He froze and waited, his gaze glued to hers.
Anger long gone, flared to life, not for him, but for Erik’s father Henrick. Her fists closed and she fought to keep the sudden warmth at bay.
Clockwork Thief Box Set Page 17
