Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (3 page)

He reached for the leather bustier’s center hook. She jumped and her elbow went flying into his chin. Grunting, he thudded onto his ass.

“Oh gods,” Mara groaned, leaning over him. “I’m worse than clumsy—I’m a menace.”

He shook his head, trying to clear the spinning stars. “Not at all.”

Well, maybe a little. To be on the safe side, they should probably stick to the missionary position. Much as he loved the sight of a woman riding him, he didn’t need her falling off and breaking her neck.

Pushing to his feet, he smiled and extended a hand. “Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

After the briefest hesitation, she tucked her hand in his. The kitchen received a cursory walkthrough. She oohed and ahhed over the original Lia Mavrick watercolors and Stellic bronzes scattered between the various guestrooms. Outside the den, she stopped and ran her fingers over the nubby texture of the vessel holding a freeform arrangement of wild grasses.

“Is this a Rucca pod?”

He smiled at the wonderment in her voice. Here he possessed a houseful of priceless art and antiques, and a nut husk thrilled her most. Females were such strange, delightful creatures. “I picked it up during my last trip to Frittona.” Along with a square cut, ten-carat ruby that fetched a handsome finder’s fee.

“I’ve never seen one so big.” She stooped and surveyed the pod. Her skirt lifted, granting him a mouth-watering peep show.

Dash’s jaw dropped.
Sweet goddess, she
is
wearing pink panties.

Mara glanced over her shoulder. He forced his attention from her curvaceous rear, but apparently not fast enough. Giving the hem of her skirt a firm tug, she scrambled to her feet. “Where next?”

Delirious with the need to peel those pink panties off, he led her into the master bedroom. He followed her stare to the massive canopy bed centered in the room.

“Perfect,” she blurted.

Couldn’t have said it better.
Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, he stepped towards her. She swiveled on her heel and strode to the bed, plunking her bag near her feet. Her handcuffs reappeared and circled the nearest pine post with a decisive click.

Dash’s lust exploded. Impatient with his shirt, he yanked. Hard. The buttons popped free and bounced along the wood floor with a
plink-plink-plink
. Mara turned, her wide-eyed stare tracking the rolling path of the buttons.

Dropping his ripped shirt, he advanced, kicking off his dress shoes before unbuttoning his trousers with shaking fingers. He was too far gone, too primed, to take things slow. Three weeks without sex—what the hell had he been thinking?

“Dash?”

The uncertainty wobbling her voice knifed through his single-minded focus…slightly. He forced a strained grin. “Perhaps you’d best remove your own clothing.”

She blinked before releasing a slow breath. “Okay.”

Her hand snaked towards the miniskirt’s waistband. The sex-starved beast in him snapped its leash. Plowing his hands through Mara’s hair, he claimed her mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss.

The taste of her inflamed his senses. He untangled one hand from her hair and cupped her breast, growling in frustration when his fingers met leather rather than soft skin. She gasped and tumbled sideways, taking him with her. They knocked into the post, rattling the handcuffs. Before he regained his balance, she grabbed his wrist and secured it inside the dangling cuff. Not the way he’d expected things to roll, but it might prove interesting.

Leaving him slumped on the bed, she ducked to the floor. He watched her wiggling rear end and groaned. “
Sher
’
tian
, you’re killing me.”

She fumbled through her bag before returning to him. The hem of her miniskirt rasped against his thighs and he reached for her with his free hand. Ignoring him, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his lap. Lust hazed his vision. He lowered his head towards her breasts, fully intent on ripping her bustier open with his teeth if need be.

Cold metal locked around his neck with an ominous clank. The sound—along with the chill biting into his flesh—managed to edge past the fog clouding his brain. Disoriented, he glanced down. Purple lights flashed across the base of the bizarre collar encircling his neck.

Mara pushed off his lap and he frowned up at her.

“What is this?”

A strange expression crossed her face—one bordering on pity. He didn’t like it at all. “Mara?”

“I’m sorry…truly. Please, just don’t make any sudden—”

Agitated, he lurched at her. An electrical shock zinged his neck. “
Son of a bitch
,” he roared, jerking back.

Mara winced before finishing her sentence. “—movements.”

Mara listened to the sharp breaths whistling from Dash’s nose. Guilt tore at her chest sharper than an emaris hawk’s talon. Damn it, she’d warned Nalia the collar needed tweaking. But without someone wearing the device, she couldn’t prove it. And go figure, no one volunteered to test it out.

She dug in the bag for the remote controller device. Locating the mode button, she depressed it several times. “Okay, this should do it. Try moving towards me.”

Dash’s glare threatened to rip right through her. “Got a better idea. Take this damn thing off me.”

“I can’t.”

“Babe, whatever kink you’ve got in mind…it’s not my bag.” Moving with exaggerated caution, Dash settled on the bed’s edge. The mattress creaked beneath his weight. “Go find yourself a Vorhian. I hear they’re into pain.”

He thought the collar was some kind of weird sex toy.
Who thinks like that?
She looked up at the individual mirrored tiles imbedded in the canopy’s overhead frame. Okay, that was a dumb question.

“Now’s probably a good time to clear something up.” She took a deep breath and expelled it in a slow fizzle. “I’m not here for sex.”

Dash’s watchful golden eyes narrowed to slits. A wary stillness washed over him. “No?”

She shook her head.

“Mind telling me why the hell you
are
here then?”

No point beating around the bush. “To fetch you.”

“What am I—a damn stick?” The muscles in his massive shoulders flexed when he stretched his free arm behind him.

She swallowed hard. Gods, who could concentrate with all that sleek, bronzed skin within arm’s reach? “The person who sent me didn’t feel confident you’d come of your own free will.”

“Who sent you?” A thread of danger twined through his steely demand.

“Queen Nalia of Zalan.”

He blinked, evidently caught off guard. “Why the hell is royalty after me? I haven’t done anything to them…lately.”

Mara cleared her throat before staring at the floor. Circling the pointed toe of her high heel, she traced the path of the wood grain beneath her feet. Okay, enough stalling. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Believe me, I will.”

She returned her attention to Dash and a prickle of alarm pinched the back of her neck. He was livid—no question about it. The throbbing vein in his brow appeared downright painful.

Keeping him fixed in her sight, she leaned down and dropped the remote controller into the satchel. His fingers drummed a frantic tattoo against the mattress. When she realized what he was up to, she shook her head. “Don’t waste your time. The collar’s blocking your magic.”

Murder and all manner of painful vengeance flashed across his face. A sliver of fear trilled up her spine. Good thing the handcuffs and collar secured him.

He twisted his manacled wrist and cursed when it remained uncooperative. “Might be difficult delivering me to your boss with this bed attached to my arm.”

Like she’d fall for that obvious ploy. “The queen’s driver is on his way. Your collar’s tracking chip sent him our coordinates when I switched it on.”

His body stilled again—a mass of tightly bundled fury. Their stares waged a silent battle. Her nerves dancing a wild jig, she wet her lips, hoping like hell he’d take her next threat to heart. “By the way, her driver is built like a Foini bull and mean as one too.”

He cocked one dark eyebrow in arrogant disregard. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be wise messing with him…or me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve no desire to mess around with a Foini bull. You, on the other hand…” he scoped her body with a deliberate, snail-like pace, “…would be fun wrestling to the floor.”

“Not happening,” she said, her tone flat as the marsh plains outside of Zalan.

“Never say never.” Eyes glittering with carnal intent, his lips spread into a hard, feral smile. “I’ve tricks up my sleeve that’d make you spread your legs as easy as a Weliker bitch hound in heat.”

She decided to ignore his vile crudeness rather than stray deeper into his crafty head games. Picking up the satchel, she strode towards the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Planting a hand on the doorframe, she coolly returned his outraged stare. “Outside to wait for Ronan.”

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to do shackled here?”

She gave him a saccharine smile. “You’ve a free hand. Be creative.”

~ * ~

Don’t invite a Maddoc fae’s touch. They’ll steal your sanity.
Her brother’s voice a phantom whisper inside her head, Mara leaned against one of the porch’s peeled log support beams and stared at the stars overhead. She didn’t know about sanity, but they stole hearts. And left them to wither and die in the blackest hour of the soul.

Nalia’s silver aerocoach floated down the drive, its luminescent headlights slashing the darkness and Mara’s painful memories.

“About damn time,” Mara muttered, pushing from the porch. She trotted down the steps and waited until Ronan maneuvered the bulky vehicle onto the ground. Compared to Dash’s sleek Riato, the aerocoach resembled an oversized meat locker.

The tinted rear window rolled down and Piper flew out. “Where is he?”

Mara found it impossible to corral her impatience. “In the kitchen, making us sandwiches for the road. Jeez, where do you think he’s at?” The long night was taking its toll. Usually Piper didn’t get on her nerves more than the standard twenty times a day.

Paying Mara’s sarcasm no heed, Piper flitted to the door. She settled on the heavy brass knob and stamped her foot. “Could I get a little help here?”

Mara gritted her teeth and stalked up the porch steps. Shooing Piper aside, she opened the door. Piper shot past her, leaving a trail of shimmering violet dust in her wake.

“Oh brother.” Mara dashed through the entry and skittered after the sprite. She might be angry at Dash for his head games, but she wouldn’t subject him to Piper alone. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.

She bounded into the master bedroom and skidded to a stop. Piper hovered at eye level with Dash, her wings an iridescent blur as she treaded air. Sprite and fae were locked in a stare-down.

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Dashael Rhyder,” Piper squeaked, wagging a tiny finger.

Dash grunted. “Anyone have a fly swatter handy?”

Piper’s indignant gasp broke off when Ronan stormed into the room, his barrel chest heaving from his sprint down the hall. Sweat stains formed perfect semicircles beneath the armpit area of his beige tunic. Mara couldn’t remember seeing him put out such exertion before.

“What’s going on?” Clutching his side, Ronan scowled at the room in general.

“Well, I’m shackled to my bed and awaiting transport to your employer. Other than that, not much.” Dash’s gaze roved to Mara. “Not too many bulbs in his lamp, I take.”

Mara stifled a grin. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she found him funny. No way. She glanced at Ronan. “Is the aerocoach ready?”

At his nod, she tossed him the handcuff keys. “Let’s get him outside.”

Ronan unclamped the cuff from the post and yanked Dash upright. Mara’s breath expelled on a relieved rush. Good—the collar’s sensitive circuitry seemed safely under control.

“Easy, big boy,” Dash growled. “I don’t allow rough handling until the second date.” A harsh curse hissed between his teeth when Ronan yanked his free hand behind his back and manacled it inside the other cuff.

Fury sizzling in his eyes, Dash lowered his head, butting it hard into Ronan’s protruding belly. Unfazed, Ronan slapped a meaty hand around the base of Dash’s neck and propelled him out the bedroom door.

Outside, Ronan shoved Dash headfirst into the aerocoach’s plush backseat. Cracking his knuckles, he walked to the front of the idling vehicle. Mara slid in beside Dash. Once he’d twisted into a sitting position, she snagged the safety harness and slipped it over his wide shoulders before buckling it in place. She tried ignoring the heated musky tang of male skin inches from her nose.

His stare scorched her. “Interesting company you keep.”

It wasn’t her choice—not by a long shot. “Don’t complain. I half expected Ronan to crack your head open back there.”

“What, and ruin the beautiful thing going between us?” Dash rolled his shoulders and winced when the strap pulled tight against him.