Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (5 page)

“Yes,” Finian bit out. “I’d like the answer to that as well.”

“Just a little job for my beautiful boy.” Flicking back the sleeve of her dress, Nalia stroked Dash’s rigid jaw. “If you complete it successfully, I’ll shorten your sentence.”

Dash jerked away from Nalia’s touch. “What kind of job?”

“The kind you do best.” A wicked laugh erupted from Nalia when Dash’s expression turned contemplative. “I refer to stealing, of course. Though I’m sure your other notorious talent will receive my accolades in due time.”

“Let me get this straight.” Dash’s mouth curled in a sardonic grin. “You imprison me for stealing, yet you want me to steal for you?”

A scowl marred Nalia’s smooth, porcelain perfection. “I’m doing you a favor. Rather than being beneficent and keeping you in the luxury of the palace, I could let you rot in the fairy prison.”

“Excuse my ungratefulness. If not for the bruised state of my body, I’d grovel at your feet.” Dash’s scornful gaze traveled between Nalia and Finian. “Okay, I’ll bite. What exactly do you want me to steal?”

“The Rhyann rune.”

Mara frowned, unfamiliar with the name, but judging from the wary set of Dash’s face, he was plenty acquainted.

“You dare enlist this worthless slime to steal the Rhyann? The very individual responsible for its theft from my family’s vault in the first place?” Finian stalked forward, his body bristling with anger.

Nalia chortled with glee. “It’s quite brilliant. Who better to track down the rune?”

Finian’s glare transferred to Dash. For several tense seconds, Mara worried the stare-down between the two Maddoc faes would end in bloody battle. And with Dash’s fists trapped behind his back, he stood at a distinct disadvantage.

“Enough with the male testosterone,” Nalia said, waving a hand. She turned to Pasha. “Take Dashael downstairs and have Sarina fetch fresh clothing for him. While you’re at it, remove his handcuffs. He’s not going anywhere.”

Nalia strolled to the silver tea service situated on the buffet and everyone but Mara and Finian exited the East Solarium. Giving Finian a wide berth, Mara strode to the buffet and stared at Nalia’s back. “Guess now is as good a time as any to sign the papers releasing Gideon.”

“What?” Nalia poured a stream of earthy-smelling Jufferi tea into a delicate teacup and finished it with a dollop of cream before turning. “But your work isn’t completed.”

A cold black rage swept over Mara, making her entire body shake. Hating someone this much did nothing but eat at her soul, and she despised Nalia all the more for it. “You promised. I know your word isn’t usually worth much, but I took it anyway.”

“Dear, don’t adopt such a fierce expression. It’ll wrinkle your lovely skin.” Nalia stirred her tea before tapping the spoon against the cup. “I fully intend on keeping my word. You merely misunderstand the finer details of our arrangement.”

“How can I misunderstand details you never provided?” Mara said between clenched teeth.

Nalia tossed the spoon down. Her over-plucked eyebrows winged towards the ruby-encrusted combs anchoring her hair. “Come, let’s not argue. The only thing left for you to do is accompany Dashael on his mission. Trivial, really.”

“
What?
” A weight crushed at Mara’s chest. Travel with Dash—again? She’d either kill him or cave to his sexual magnetism. Either way she’d be screwed, no pun intended. “Wouldn’t it make more sense sending one of your bodyguards?” she asked, clutching at straws.

“We both know brainpower isn’t Pasha, Merke or Zith’s strong point. I need someone my sly thief won’t easily outfox.” Cold calculation gleamed in Nalia’s eyes. “Someone with strong motivation to finish this mission quickly. But perhaps I misjudged your desire to free your brother…” Nalia’s expression turned almost reptilian—a deadly asp getting ready to strike. “There are worst punishments than imprisonment, you know. Particularly for a human standing guilty of the crime your brother committed.”

Ice-cold fear trickled through Mara’s veins. Was Nalia threatening to reinstate Gideon’s death penalty? “No, I’ll do it.”

Nalia’s mouth curled into a frigid smile. “You always were a smart girl.” She reached for the tea cup and took a dainty sip before blotting her lips with the edge of her lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Which is why I trust I needn’t remind you Dashael Rhyder belongs to me.” One blood red nail circled the cup’s rim. “And what I possess, no one else touches.”

~ * ~

Amazing what a clean pair of pants will do for a fellow. Of course, his face needed some help. Grimacing, Dash finished tying off the line of stitches above his right eye. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He winked at the young maid holding the looking glass for him.

She giggled and dropped the glass to her side before darting past the stone-faced bodyguard stationed next to the door.

“See you’re busy making friends.”

Dash jerked around and stared at Mara as she sauntered into the kitchen from the rear entrance. Despite the replacement of her siren outfit with a drab green skirt and blouse topped by a white apron, she remained the most desirable woman he’d ever seen.

He rubbed his wrists, trying to ease the chafing left by the handcuffs. “Wouldn’t want her to accuse me of being rude.”

Mara rolled her eyes before stooping to grab his wrinkled trousers from the kitchen floor.

“Surely your job description doesn’t include picking up after me.”

She gave him a hard glare before tossing his trousers over her arm. Frowning, he stood. “Good gods, are you a
maid
?”

“Didn’t the outfit give it away?” She flung her arms wide.

“I merely figured it yet another of your clever guises to seduce me.” At her incredulous stare, he grinned. “What male doesn’t enjoy the naughty-maid fantasy?”

She snorted and brushed past him. Her hand wrapped around the thin, black wool tunic hanging over the back of the chair. “Here,” she said, tossing the garment at him.

He let it fall to the floor. “Thing is too bloody scratchy.”

“Stop being a crybaby and just wear it.”

“Why? Worried you’ll get all hot and bothered with this much eye candy on display?” He flexed his chest muscles to further goad her.

“Oh brother.” She turned her back on him and the discarded shirt.

He watched her finish collecting the various implements he’d patched his face with. The enigma of her continued to baffle him. Shifting his attention to the other kitchen entrance, he noted the absence of the bodyguard. Good, gave him the perfect opportunity to fish for information. “I can’t believe Nalia sent her maid after me. Is she too cheap to buck up for a bounty hunter?”

“I caught you, didn’t I?”

Touché. Actually, it was ingenious in the scheme of things. If he were to type into a computing analyzer the specifications of his ideal fantasy woman, it’d spit out a picture of Mara. He gave her backend a considering glance. “If I’d known your situation, I would have more than tripled Nalia’s finder’s fee.”

“Already told you I’m not interested in your money.” She poked the needle into the spool of thread and tossed them into the rickety wooden crate leaning against the far stone wall. Her apron flapped around her waist while she scurried about, flicking a dust cloth over anything blocking her path.

He folded his arms over his chest, irritated by her constant flurry of activity. Really, she was more dizzying to watch than a sprite hocked up on caffeine. “Fine, you don’t want money. What do you want?”

Mara swiveled on her heel and ran her cloth over a set of pottery canisters resting on the counter. She flicked a glance to the area just south of his waist. The gesture was brief and likely unconscious on Mara’s part, but it still managed to get a rise from him. Literally.

“Nothing,” she said, tucking the cloth into her apron pocket.

Liar.

“So what’s the story with this Rhyann rune?”

Dash grimaced. As if coyly changing the subject didn’t grate on his nerves, mention of that damn rune threatened to raise his blood pressure beyond the boiling point. “It’s a stone, and it’s priceless. End of story.”

“A priceless stone?” She frowned. “Why does Nalia want it?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Mara turned away, but not before he noticed the disappointment she failed to hide.

Suspicion crept over him. “Why are you asking?” When she remained stubbornly mute he stalked forward and grabbed her shoulders, making her gasp.

She tried jerking free. “Release me.”

“Not until you start answering my questions.” He slid his grip down the slope of her arms and manacled her wrists inside his fists. “How does it feel being the one cuffed,
Sher ’tian
?”

Her eyes glittered with unleashed fury. “Get. Your hands. Off me.”

“Don’t you enjoy them on you? Sure seemed like it yesterday, when you were moaning and slithering your tight little body against mine.”

“That was an act, you ass.” She tugged her wrists hard.

“Then you should win an award for your acting skills.” He lowered his head, his sight fixed on the temptation of her scowling lips. Before he reached his target, her knee found his groin. Sucking in a sharp breath, he dropped her hands and staggered to his knees.

Mara stepped away with an innocent smile. “Sorry, guess my knee slipped.”

He pinned her with his hard glare. “If I’m ever able to stand again, you’re going to regret that.”

She shoved her hair back and pierced him with an annoyed look. He found that rather ironic, considering he was the one with throbbing balls. “Look, I don’t want to fight.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it.” Wincing, he reached between his legs and adjusted himself.

“If this is going to work, we must get along.” She extended a hand. After granting her a wary stare, he grabbed her hand and struggled to his feet.

“If what’s going to work?” he demanded, brushing the floor dust from his knees.

“Us.”

He stared at her, waiting for the punch line.

She held up her hand. “I’m referring to our temporary partnership, of course.”

“Babe, I don’t do partnerships.” The mere use of the word made his gut go sour. Personal or professional—partnerships were disastrous. He knew from personal experience.

Mara gave him a withering glare. “Neither do I. But we’re stuck with each other until you steal the Rhyann rune and bring it here.”

She was accompanying him? His mouth curled in a grin.
Then again, maybe disastrous is a bit harsh.

“Any ideas swirling in your twisted, perverted head can just go to hell.”

“Trust me, they’ve already been there.”

She shoved a finger in his face, her expression bristling with fierce warning. “I mean it. Don’t try messing with me. I won’t have it.”

A groan skated past his lips. “We’re back to rehashing that old song and dance?”

“Whatever it takes to get it through that thick skull of yours.” Her eyes flashed fire. “Under no circumstances will I ever sleep with you. Got it?”

He cocked his eyebrows at her vehemence. “Who are you trying to convince—me or you?”

Gritting her teeth, Mara bent over and swiped the tunic from the floor. She rolled it into a ball and tossed it at him. “I hope you get a rash.” With those encouraging words, she stalked off.

He shrugged into the tunic, his gaze drifting to her shapely calves. She could lie to herself all she wanted. Sooner or later, she’d be writhing beneath him in the throes of rapture.

And knowing her inevitable downfall provided the key to his escape made it all the sweeter.

Chapter Four

“Her royal highness requests your appearance in her chambers.”

Dash settled the book he’d been perusing onto his chest and stacked his arms behind his head. The cot swayed beneath him, creaking.

“Is that right?” He eyed the guard stationed in the doorway of his cell. He’d given up trying to keep track of Nalia’s various bodyguards. Not that it mattered. They clearly all shared the same brain.

“We can’t keep her waiting. She’ll be most displeased.”

Tempting as it was to put a twist in the bitch’s panties, he wanted to get out of the cell he’d been confined to for the past thirty-two hours even more. He tossed the book on the floor and hefted to his feet.

The bodyguard barely allowed him time to exit the room before grasping the back of his tunic and thrusting him down the corridor.

Dash grunted. “I know you can’t keep your hands off me, you bloody pervert, but watch the threads.” The tunic he wore was only a sight better than the black one, but at least it didn’t make him scratch at himself like a flea-bitten hound.

They took the stairs up several flights before arriving outside a set of enormous marble doors. The bodyguard pushed a button recessed in the wall and Nalia’s voice filtered through the speaker, bidding them entrance. Dash stepped inside, his well-trained eye cataloging his sumptuous surroundings. The Hon’dach oil hanging near the silk-draped bed would fetch enough merca to feed half the populace of Zalan. Additionally, they all could take a vacation off the proceeds brought in from the jade lamp sitting on the late seventeenth-century Artur’ak dresser.