Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (6 page)

“Deciding which of my treasures you’d love to divest me of?” Nalia’s cold chuckle echoed off the walls as she stepped from behind an ivory inlaid screen.

“Can you blame me?” Dash’s arm swung in an arc, the gesture encompassing the goodies surrounding him. “It’s like luring a Frittona lion into a chicken pen and expecting him not to eat the residents.”

Nalia cinched the belt of her dressing gown and waved a hand in dismissal to the bodyguard. The weapons strapped to his chest clinked together when he rushed to obey her silent command.

“I trust you’re well enough to leave for Mer’daca in a few hours?”

The mention of his homeland and the fool’s mission ahead of him churned Dash’s stomach. It’d be a damn miracle if he wasn’t shot dead the second he set foot on Mer’daca soil. And that was all but guaranteed if he ran into Jerrick.

Jerrick
. Just the mention of the name further agitated the tumultuous brew inside Dash’s gut. Of course he’d run into the backstabbing bastard. Little chance he wouldn’t, given the circumstances.

“I took the liberty of securing you clothes for the journey.”

Dash pulled his thoughts from the anguished memories that were impossible to block and stared at Nalia. He’d missed a good portion of her babble. “What?”

She strolled to a large cabinet taking up most of the farthest wall and he trailed after her. A small stack of fine wool trousers and linen button-down shirts in various shades waited on one of the cabinet’s shelves. There was also a pair of hiking boots and kidskin loafers.

“Do they meet with your impeccable standards?” Nalia inquired, her tone heavily laced with patronizing amusement.

“Not really, but I’ll lower my standards this once.”

A pile of books rested near the shoes. Their spines were shelved outward, clearly displaying their titles.
The Alchemy of the Fairies
.
One Thousand and One Ways to Hex a Lover
.
The Legend of Rhyann.

“Interesting research material.” Dash reached for the small, burgundy leather book on the end but Nalia slammed the cabinet door shut before he could acquire it. Turning his head, he took in her tight expression.

The wheels inside his brain began grinding. She was after the rune, a stone purported to enhance magic—something an all-powerful fairy queen shouldn’t have any need for. He grinned. “What’s the matter, old girl, losing your edge? Or should I say your powers?”

Nalia’s right eyebrow twitched, a sure sign that he’d struck a tender nerve. “Your tongue is sharper than your brain.”

Her barb fell short of piercing his ego and he chuckled, knowing full well it’d infuriate her. “Who are you trying to fool? The books give it away. Why else would you need the rune?”

Something cold and twisted swirled in the depths of her slanted eyes. “There are scores that need settling, and the Rhyann will ensure my fondest wish sees fruition.”

Before he could bait Nalia further, the tread of footsteps announced someone’s approach. Dash took one look at the pleased smirk creeping across Nalia’s face and easily deduced who the arrival was. He turned and nearly ended up incinerated by Finian’s blast of fury.

“What is he doing in here? I told you to keep that slime far from my sight.”

“These are my private chambers. I’m the one who makes the decision who is allowed inside.” Nalia’s tone held a frosty bite. “You’re fortunate I’ve yet to ban
you
from entering.”

Dash inwardly groaned. He’d rather be in that chicken pen with the Frittona lion than stuck between a bickering husband and wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some packing to do.”

Nalia tore her attention from Finian as Dash shuffled strategically towards the doorway. “Sarina will bring your traveling clothes by your room later. Don’t get too attached to them. When you return, you’ll be wearing the uniform I commissioned special for you.” She reached inside the pocket of her dressing gown and pulled out a scrap of red silk. It didn’t appear big enough to cover his privates.

Oh bloody hell
. Suddenly, the scratchy tunic didn’t look so bad.

~ * ~

Mara blinked away a bead of sweat, visualizing the numerous ways she longed to pay Nalia back for her blackmail. Lugging twenty loads of laundry up and down six flights of stairs gave her ample time to come up with some real winners.

An extra cup of starch in the sheet wash? Nah, itch powder mixed in with the delicates.

Her lips twitching in a secret grin, she hugged the clothes basket next to her hip. She would never do it, of course, but it was fun to imagine. After dispersing the laundry to the appropriate rooms, she trudged downstairs and deposited the basket onto the shelf.

She staggered to her closet-sized room. Ignoring the rumble in her empty stomach, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto her narrow cot with a groan. Muscles she didn’t even know she possessed screamed for mercy.

Nalia’s perfectionist standards were killing her, but twelve years in the queen’s employ had taught her that it did no good to complain. Even the time she threatened to turn Nalia in for violating the terms of the human slave ban resulted in nothing beyond a dismissive wave from the queen. That was the problem with working for fae royalty—the law tended to look the other way where they were concerned.

Stretching her legs, Mara leaned forward and massaged the arches of her feet. She moaned, dropping her chin in the crook between her knees.

“Do you suppose the nights are chilly in Mer’daca?”

Frowning, Mara lifted her head. Her fingers tightened around her toes when she spied the bulging satchel swinging from Piper’s arm.
Please don’t let that be what I think it is.

“Maybe I should bring my striped scarf.”

“Hell no.” Mara bolted upright on the cot.

“You’re right.” Piper nodded decisively. “The snowflake one is warmer.”

“Forget it. You’re not coming.”

“Am too. Queen Nalia gave the go-ahead herself.”

Mara gritted her teeth. “Of course she did. Damn fairy isn’t about to give up the chance of getting you out of her hair for a week or two.”

“Huh, guess it sucks to be
you
then, doesn’t it?”

Box springs creaked in protest when Mara launched from the cot. She made a swipe for the tiny satchel but Piper streaked upward. The sprite showed off with a double back flip and grabbed one of the chain links supporting the overhead lamp before sticking out her tongue.

A growl escaped Mara. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“Will not. I fully intend to help. Besides, why should you be the only one enjoying some fun and excitement?”

“This isn’t a pleasure trip. In fact, I’m fairly certain it’ll be gods-awful.” If Piper insisted on tagging along, that’d be a given. Mara groaned and rubbed her temples in preparation of the massive headaches in her future.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“On vacation.” The long-handled duster propped in the corner caught Mara’s eye. If Piper didn’t come down of her own free will, maybe a little feathered persuasion would help. She stepped around the cot.

“I see our rooms have the same décor—post-modern dungeon.”

Mara swiveled at the sound of Dash’s familiar baritone. Her kneecap banged the cot’s metal frame and pain arced down her leg. “Son of a—” Blinking back tears, she dropped to the mattress and hugged her knee.

Dash pushed from the doorway and rushed to the bed. He knelt over her, his muscular frame taking up too much space in the cramped room. Glaring, she socked him in the arm.

“Nice to see you’re keeping your word about getting along.” He graced her with a wry grin and rubbed his biceps.

“That’s for not knocking.”

Chirpy laughter rained down on them. Dash stood and stared at the ceiling. A frown furrowed between his dark eyebrows when he spotted Piper. “What the devil are you doing up there?”

Piper pointed an accusing finger at Mara. “
She
tried to steal my satchel.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal it.” Mara rolled her eyes.

“Hah, if I didn’t—” Piper gave an indignant sputter when the duster handle popped the satchel from her grip. It plummeted straight into Dash’s outstretched palm.

He tossed the satchel to Mara. Bemused, she caught it midair and stared at him. “Wow, I didn’t see you grab the duster.”

His smile dazzled. “Because I’m a professional, babe.” He settled on the cot’s metal footboard and nodded at the tiny canvas bag clutched in Mara’s hand. “So why do you want it?”

“I don’t really.” She shrugged. “What am I going to do with a sprite’s wardrobe? Dress my pinkies?” Sighing, she handed the satchel to Piper before studying Dash’s face more closely. “Your bruise looks better today—far less purple.”

He scrubbed a hand across his jaw.

“You shaved.” Heat crept into Mara’s cheeks. Great, nothing like appearing way too interested in his personal hygiene. “Good. I bet the cook’s daughter that Nalia prefers her lovers clean shaven. Seems she owes me five merca.” She cleared her throat. Not too shabby for a quick improvisation. Hopefully he’d fall for it.

Amusement danced in Dash’s eyes. “Don’t get your coin purse out just yet. My decision to shave was based solely on my aversion to resembling a feral hound.”

Curiosity gnawed at her. Was he saying he hadn’t provided Nalia with stud services yet? Hard to believe. With Dash’s scorching sexual magnetism and mouthwatering physique, any female with a functioning libido would be hard-pressed keeping her hands off him.
Not that I’d know anything about resisting a fae thief who’s too sexy for his own good.

“How about you,
Sher ’tian
? Prefer a clean-shaven lover?”

Mara met Dash’s prodding gaze. She didn’t know of any faes gifted with the ability to read minds, but for a mortifying second she swore he’d somehow managed a peek inside hers. Wouldn’t that be the final blow to her ego—Dash having an insider scoop to every lustful thought tumbling in her brain, most starring him buck naked in various and intriguing positions.

“She’s celibate. Hasn’t gotten any action since the baker stopped delivering his buns eighteen months ago.”

On second thought, there’s the final blow to my ego.
Mara shot a murderous glare at Piper. If the duster were handy, she’d bop the little blabbermouth upside the head. “Leave.
Now
.”

Piper wisely took the suggestion to heart and shot from the room in a blaze of glittering sprite dust.

“Eighteen months?”

Mara turned her head. Dash’s expression matched the horror in his tone.

“How’ve you survived?”

“People don’t
die
from lack of sex,” Mara said, huffing in exasperation. “And if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get off this subject.” The valise protruding from beneath the narrow cot snagged her attention. Inspiration struck. “Come to think of it, I still need to pack.”

She nudged the valise out with her foot. “This’ll probably take a while.” Lifting her head, she gave Dash a pointed stare. “Feel free to go about your business.”

His butt remained planted on the footboard. Gnashing her teeth at the aggravating nature of the male species, Mara stalked to the tall, skinny cabinet leaning against the wall. She yanked open the top drawer and scooped out a handful of undergarments—her entire supply—and tossed them inside the valise. Dash’s eyes lit up. He reached for the silky pink panties resting on top and she slapped his hand away before returning to the cabinet and emptying the remaining two drawers.

The entire process lasted roughly thirty seconds.

“You’re right, that took forever,” Dash said dryly.

Ignoring him, she flipped the valise’s lid shut and snapped the latches down before jumping to her feet. The lingering ache returned, lancing through her left heel, and she gasped. Knee buckling, she lurched sideways, her hand groping for the support of the bed. She connected with Dash’s solid chest. Before her lips formed a protest, he settled her on the mattress and cupped her foot.

“Is it your ankle? You came down damn hard on it.”

She shook her head. “Just a spasm. These marble floors are murder on my feet.”

His big hands smoothed over her instep, his thumbs kneading circles along the arch. A blissful moan brushed past her lips. The amazing thing he was doing to her foot felt too good for her to even consider stopping him.

He rubbed along the sides of her foot, his smooth-shaven jaw tensing. “Maybe we should postpone the journey.”

Nalia would have a fit. “I’ll be fine.” More than fine if his hands continued their magic.

Dash reached for her other foot. Settling back on his haunches, he rolled her toes between his fingers. Delicious tingles shivered up her spine.

It felt strange having someone fuss over her. Usually it was the other way around. If Nalia and Finian didn’t run her ragged with their constant demands, their guests stepped in to fill the void. Time to herself, much less an opportunity for pampering? Totally unheard of.

Warmth spread through her limbs. The friction of Dash’s hands wasn’t the sole cause. It felt so damn good just being touched, sharing the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact with him.