Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (8 page)

“Dinner’s gonna be served in twenty minutes. If you’re hungry, there’s still a table available.”

Before Mara could open her mouth, Dash accepted for the lot of them.

“Harker, set one more table,” the old woman hollered as she scuffed around the corner of the check-in desk.

Mara blasted Dash with a hard glare. “Gee, didn’t realize you’re running the show.”

He shrugged. “Got to eat, don’t we?”

That pretty much deflated the wind from her sails. Unwilling to give him too great an inch, she grabbed the key from his palm. “I’m only agreeing because I can hear Ronan’s stomach throwing fits.” Rather like the one she battled against enacting at the moment.

She stalked up the stairs, not giving a damn if anyone followed. They hadn’t even crossed the sea and already she wanted to kill Dash. Not a good sign.

The threadbare runner traversing the upper hall looked like it’d seen the bottom of one too many muddy boots. She didn’t put too much faith in finding their room a den of luxury.

It wasn’t—but at least it came with two large beds and a private bath. They made short work stowing their belongings and headed down to the dining hall. A dozen round wooden tables lined the room, all but one near the front crowded with rough-looking merchantmen.

Conversation lulled while the four of them took a seat around the vacant table. Several men at the neighboring table stared at Mara like they expected her to be part of the upcoming feast. She rubbed her arms briskly, warding off the nervous goose bumps cropping up.

Dash leaned close to her ear. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel safer?” She scooted her chair in, smothering a snort.

He flashed a wicked grin. The paneled door across the way swung open and a bosomy girl carrying an armful of breadbaskets sashayed into the dining hall. Six youngsters, each loaded with an equal number of baskets, scurried to keep up with her. The procession of food snared the men’s attention.

Mara’s breath shuddered free. “I’ve never been so happy to see rolls in my life.”

“Your poor baker boy.” Dash made a tsking sound. “I imagine he would be crushed by your admission.”

The female server approached their table, giving Mara the perfect excuse to ignore Dash’s teasing jab. Ronan’s eyes riveted to the woman’s ample bosom when she leaned over him and settled a breadbasket in the center of the table. The server’s smile was saucier than the gravy sloshing in the tin jug she carried. Plopping the jug next to the basket, she strutted off, her butt performing an enticing jiggle.

Ronan craned his head to follow the girl’s departure. Mara half expected to hear the snap of his neck tendons.
Males
.

“She could balance a tray of glasses on those boobs,” Piper said, plucking a chunk of crust free. A moist cloud of yeasty goodness rose from the hole left behind. “Bet she gets great tips though.”

“I’d like to give her the tip of my co—”

“
Ronan
.” Mara’s glare turned fiercer when Dash tipped his head back and laughed. Really, the male species was so damn juvenile.

The remainder of the meal proved a study in patience for Mara. In between her mental grumblings she swallowed down the thick, hearty stew and rearranged the pickled beets in her salad. When the server girl returned with a carafe of red wine, compliments of the house, Mara gave up eating and contemplated the allure of getting rip-roaring drunk. Maybe inebriation would block out Piper’s constant jabbering and Ronan’s sexist, tongue-dragging adulation of the server’s breasts. But mostly she wanted to dull the delicious appeal of Dash.

No matter how hard she tried, her body wouldn’t let her forget the silky texture of his skin or the dark, wet pleasure of his mouth. The traitorous responses of her body were just one more reason why reaching Mer’daca and fetching the blasted rune were top priority.

She frowned at the reminder of the mysterious prize responsible for their mission. “I wish I knew more about the Rhyann rune.”
Or more precisely, why Nalia wants it.

“What do you want to know?” Dash grabbed another slice of bread and slathered it with the rich honey butter mounded inside the provided crock.

Settling her elbow on the table, Mara rested her chin in her hand. She stared broodingly into the claret depths of her wineglass. “Well, for starters, it’d be nice to know what makes it so damn special.”

“It’s a charging stone.” Dash sank his teeth into the slice of bread. “Only one in existence.”

She jerked her head up and stared at him. Irritation sizzled in her veins. “You son of a bitch. I thought you didn’t have any information on the rune other than it being a priceless stone.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“You did. When we standing in Rulach’s kitchen.” Mara’s temper escalated to full boil. At the moment, it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to grab the wine carafe and club him over the head.

“Oh yes.” He nodded, appearing not the least bit contrite. “I suppose being kidnapped momentarily blocked my memory.”

How convenient
. Mara pinched her lips tight and drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “What did you mean when you called the Rhyann rune a charging stone?”

“For magic. Any practitioner in possession of the rune can use it to power up their spells.” Dash meticulously wiped each finger clean with his napkin. Once he completed his task, he leaned back in his seat. “Mind you, this is all secondhand information. I’ve never seen the rune in action.”

“Are you saying Nalia intends to use the rune for a spell?” Mara frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would a fairy with magic coming out her ears need to work a common spell?”

Dash shot a look towards Ronan. Apparently satisfied the driver was still preoccupied with the server girl’s breasts, he turned back to her. “She would if she no longer possesses her magic.”

The statement made Mara blink. “What would make you think such a thing?”

“Let’s just say I have my suspicions.”

Mara’s head spun with questions she had no answers for. She reached for her wine and drained most of it in a long swallow. A strange buzzing reverberated in her head, making her woozy. Too much wine and lack of sleep were taking their toll. She plunked her goblet down, upsetting the remaining dregs sloshing in the base. “I’m going up to bed.”

“I’ll join you.” An ugly scraping sound squealed from Dash’s chair when he shoved from the table.

She pinned him with an incredulous stare. “The hell you will.”

His eyes twinkled. “I don’t mean literally join you in bed. But the idea holds great appeal, now that you mention it.”

Her breath fluttered in her chest. Damn him, he would fill her head with images of them twined beneath the sheets. “Stay. I don’t need an escort.”

Dash gave a pointed stare to the adjacent table and its grizzled occupants. “Yes, you do.” His tone brooked no further argument.

Grumbling, she rose from her seat and followed him from the room, her steps sluggish. After nodding good night to the innkeeper, they trudged up the stairs. Evening’s shadows shrouded the room. She wobbled to the glazed earthenware lamp sitting on the small table between the beds and toggled the switch. Light spilled in a soft circle, banishing the shadows.

“Want to take a bath?”

Turning, she gaped at Dash. His chuckle broke her free of the tempting visual of the two of them naked beneath a cascade of steaming hot water.
What the hell is wrong with me?
These kinds of thoughts didn’t need to be inside her head, damn it.

“If not, I’m going to jump in.”

“Go right ahead,” she said, trying to sound casual. Hard feat to accomplish when she’d just pictured him dripping wet.

He headed towards the bathroom. “Don’t answer the door to anyone but our roommates.”

She shot a glare at his retreating back. If her eyes were flame throwers, he’d be toast. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” The calm reason in his voice earned the grinding of her teeth.

The sudden lethargy swamping her renewed its efforts, pulling on her leg muscles like weighted chains. She slumped on the end of the nearest bed and flattened a hand against the dusky blue coverlet, digging her fingers into the coarse wool. The jettisoning plink of water hitting tile swelled in her ears. Lifting her head, she stared across the room.

Steam swirled, curling sinuously through the open bathroom door. Dash stood in the middle of the small room, his back to her. He shrugged from his shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor. The vaporous mist clung to his shoulders like a possessive lover. His hands moved to his trousers and shucked them down.

Transfixed, Mara stared. Other than the trousers pooled around his ankles, he was completely nude.

Dash’s body rivaled a statue of the gods. A broad back with exquisitely defined muscles tapered to sculpted buttocks. The perfectly formed globes flexed when he kicked free of his pants. Long legs with a dusting of dark hair pivoted.

Mara sucked in a breath that lodged halfway down her windpipe.
Oh. My. Goddess.

His penis jutted from a dark thatch of hair, its impressive length erect and extending towards his navel. He met her gaze and held it, his expression unreadable. One thing was certain—he didn’t give a damn if she openly ogled him. The corded muscles in his shoulders flexed when he gripped the opaque water shield enclosing the bathing cubical. Metal grommets
zinged
and he ducked behind the shield.

The air blockaded in her throat tumbled free. Hot stickiness slithered across her skin and she reached for the suffocating collar of her top, trying to flap it. Her fingers lost grip, proving useless as her legs.

Faint tapping rapped at the door. Her movements sluggish, she rose from the bed and staggered forward. The short distance to the door took forever. Her fingers groped along the slick wood grain, missed the knob twice before finally curling around their target. At the last minute, she remembered Dash’s admonition.

“Who is it?”

Piper’s squeaky voice filtered through the crack in the doorjamb and Mara released the deadbolt. She snicked the door open just enough for the sprite to squeeze through.

“Where’s Ronan?”

“With Mistress Boob-aplenty.” Piper sniggered behind her fingers. “They hustled off to her room a couple minutes ago.”

Mara’s mouth dropped open. “But he doesn’t even know her.”

“Don’t think it’s much of an issue—they were slobbering all over each other.” Piper scrunched her face and made a gagging noise. “Kind of resembled two drooling hounds trying to mate.”

“First Borgander, now Ronan. Is sex the only thing males think about?”
Like I should talk.
Sex seemed to be the primary focus in her head. Groaning, she shoved her fingers through her damp hair.

“Why are you so sweaty?”

Meeting Piper’s puzzled frown, Mara dropped her hands. She stared at the glistening sheen coating her forearm. “It’s hot in here.”

“Well, make sure you bathe.” Piper pinched her tiny nose. “I have to sleep in that bed too, you know.” Wings fluttering, she darted to the small table and snatched her bag. Humming, she streaked past Mara.

“Where are you going?”

“One of the gents downstairs invited me to join their game of Shimba.” Piper tucked her satchel in the crook of her elbow and rubbed her palms together. “I feel lucky tonight.”

“Don’t leave me—” Mara’s desperate protest sputtered in space when Piper flew into the hallway. She peered beyond the glittering cloud of sprite dust, her attention riveting on the bathroom. “—with him.”

The heavy
shush
of water painted an erotic picture in her mind. Slick moisture rippling over Dash’s chiseled abdominals. His soapy hand stroking a trail of bubbles along his thick penis.

Silence intruded on her X-rated musings. He’d shut the water off.

Must get out of here. Now.
Her shoulder bumped the wall and she flailed around for the door’s edge. Numb fingers refused to latch onto anything. “
Damn it.
”

“Mara?” Dash’s deep baritone snared her.

Limbs frozen, she stared at him.

Knotting a white towel low around his waist, he stepped from the bathroom and glanced towards the door. “Didn’t I tell you not to open that to anyone?”

“Go to hell.” Her tongue felt thick and useless.

His dark brows snapped low. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Her hands fished for the knob. Wet palms slipped over metal, lost contact.

Dash stalked forward and she stumbled back against the wall. He planted a hand on either side of her shoulders, boxing her in. His broad chest filled her frame of vision. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she stared at the tiny moisture beads clinging to his sculpted pectorals. The heady scent of musk and forest emanated from his damp skin.

Would he taste like pine needles? She shook with the overwhelming urge to satisfy her curiosity by tracing her tongue over his collarbone.

His knuckles settled beneath her chin and forced her head up. “You’re sweating worse than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest.”

“It’s hot in here.”
Jeez, am I the only one who gets that?