Steel Dominance (3 page)

“Here.” He raised one eyebrow. “I’m here. You are there.” He pointed at the bedroll.

When she only frowned and pulled a face, he added. “Again, you are a slave. I can’t do otherwise. There’s no other room in any case. And there are servants and passengers here. I trust no one.”

“And if I said you were taking this too far? That the chances of anyone watching are infinitesimal.”

“Infinitesimal is bigger than zero chance. The reason Theo is still alive is because I’m thorough. One day, you’ll thank me.”

Uh. Unlikely. She was more likely to get hit by a meteor than be seen by a spy…wasn’t she? He wasn’t giving in, though.

So she had to sleep in the same room as him? As this gargantuan man with muscles like rocks and a body as wide as a river barge? Surreptitiously, she flicked an assessing look over Dankyo. He was nicely built. Her mother would no doubt approve.
God. Snap out of it. Stop drooling. My boyfriends, when I have them, are far less…dangerous than this.

“Very well, then you have the floor—”

“No. You can share the bed if you wish”—he smiled slightly, and she knew she must look appalled—“or not. But I will not sleep on the floor.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, then let her shoulders slump. The man imagined spies around every corner. Military life had warped his view of the world, and she had to suffer because of it.

“Go wash up, and then we will have this talk you wished. There’s courtesy soap etcetera near the bedroll.”

Only this man would
say
etcetera. The small, lidless carrying case with the row of bottles enticed her. Multiple
clangs
and the toot of a horn warned the ship was taking off. She braced herself. The floor softly rocked, and then the world outside the porthole fell away.

“The pilot is smooth,” Dankyo murmured.

“Yes.” She knelt and eyed the case. Thoughts slotted into place. Six little cut-glass bottles with painted labels. Each label hand-done with letters hidden among pale foliage and rainbow butterflies. The artwork was gorgeous. The more she stared, the more the leaves and tiny flowers beckoned her and formed into lines and letters.

“Sofia.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been looking at that case for two minutes.”

“Each of these bottles, though at face value seem labeled with words like”—she selected one—“
perfume
, has the name of a poison entangled in the artwork.”

“Put it down!” He was beside her in seconds and grabbed her wrist.

“Hey!”

“Put it down!” He made her set the bottle back into its niche. “Damn it, woman. Even touching might be dangerous. This is a trap.”

“Yes.” She smiled lopsidedly at him. “But too obvious to be real. Someone wants to scare us.”

“How did you see this?” He let go of her hand, leaving it tingling.

“It’s what I do. I solve puzzles. You must know that?”

He sat back on his heels and seemed to assess her, his stark brown eyes relaxing a little. Then he rubbed his chin and stood. “I did. And then again, in a way, I did not. I see you know your business. I also see that this has intrigued you more than scared you. Perhaps that was their intent?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps.” It was true—she did want to go to Byzantium more than ever. Puzzles made her alive, woke every part of her brain, and made the world itself like an immense puzzle that she had to solve.

However, she had to admit this strange little teasing perfume puzzle only emphasized how right Dankyo might be. Someone had been watching them.

“Hmm.” He indicated the pistol. “Can you shoot?”

“Yes. A little. I hit what I aim at, mostly.”

“Good. You may need that skill. Don’t move while I check the rest of the cabin.”

For ten minutes or more, she watched as he examined everything—vases, books, containers, the bed, and the bathroom, then returned to sit on the bed. “I can find no other traps, but if you see anything else suspicious, say so. Leave the poisons. I’ll dispose of them. Go wash your hands to be safe, though. Then we will talk.”

She returned, flicking the last drops of water from her fingers. A high-backed cane chair caught her attention, so she pulled it over to face the bed, and sat. And was suddenly again aware of how flimsily she was clad. Red bandeau and panties and little else except this overtunic that might have been made of whimsy, it was that see-through. Well, damn him, he could look if he wished. After all, he was quite an eyeful himself. She lingered on Dankyo where he sat against the pillows, pistol in his lap, with one hand resting on his thigh and the other hand laid palm down on a white pillow.

With big hands like that, whatever he touched seemed his. She shivered. Maybe this little adventure would have side benefits? Dankyo, that immense body, curled around her, on her…in her. The thrust and wet passion of sex came front and center to her mind. The shiver turned into a flare of heat that shook awake every particle of her flesh.

Oh, yes. If only he was agreeable. Already she’d thawed a little of that stern steel exterior. Dankyo was another puzzle she wished to solve.

Chapter Three

“Well?” Dankyo staring at her was like having a train bearing down on her. Large and one-way only, and if he kept coming, he’d flatten her.

“Uh.” She blinked, shook her head. Damn, the man was distracting in a should-she-run-and-hide-or-drool-on-him sort of way. “I understand that you’re taking this slave disguise more seriously than I thought necessary. But”—she leaned forward and clasped her knees—“I need some boundaries. I mean, you have me prancing around in this clothing.” She picked at the light, see-through tunic. “I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

“Boundaries? And what have clothes to do with protection?” He grunted and a line formed between his eyes. “In case you think I have no restraint, I assure you I won’t sexually molest you because you’re wearing clothes that show off your cleavage and other parts.” For a flicker of time he glanced at far more than her cleavage.

She resisted trying to cover herself but sat up straighter.
Typical male.

“I’ll sum up what might be bothering you, shall I, Miss White?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I can always—”

“One. In public you must be, to other eyes, my slave, in every way. The Heraklos family is a far deadlier enemy of the emperor-bey than the Ottoman. Court intrigue is complex and small things lead to big bad things happening.”

Big bad things?
She screwed up her mouth at one side. Did he think her dense? “I get that. Strangely, despite all my university degrees, I do know how to learn, Mr. Teacher.”

“Hmph. Two. Out of the public eye, you may relax a little. But to anticipate an error such as a door being opened while you’re doing something unslave-like, such as insulting me, we should try to stay in role as much as possible.” He sent her a level stare.

“I suppose. I’ll keep my insults low-key, then.”

“Thank you. So far I’m impressed by one facet of your intelligence. Which is good.”

“It is?” Dankyo was full of compliments. “So
nice
of you. Sounds like you see most as fools.”

He nodded, though his mouth twitched. “Precisely. This way I’m rarely disappointed.”

“And rarely make friends.”

“Perhaps. People are overrated.”

She gaped at him. “You know what? I’m told I have bad people skills, but you just blitz me out of existence on that one.”

“Ah. Glad to see you at last admit my superiority.” While she struggled over a comeback, he rolled on. “Three. In truth, I bluffed you at the airfield. Leaving you behind was not an option. I have orders to take you to Byzantium. But it will be on my terms. To help with appearances, you will learn some of the basic responses a slave might know. How to kneel, make obeisance, and so on. The Byzantines have strict protocols for slaves, slave dress, and even grooming. Learn them. I shall strive to keep us as low-key as possible at court.”

His tone was neutral, despite their little duel of words.
I can be as restrained as you, Mr. Dankyo
. “Sure. But you should understand that I’m not to be trifled with when I’m not pretending.”

“Of course. You also need to learn some self-defense skills. ” He heaved himself off the bed and went over to unscrew a porthole. Fresh sea air rushed in and riffled the bed quilt and sent a few leaves swirling away from the small pot of violets on the bedside table. Dankyo stepped to the bedroll, picked up the rack of poisoned bottles, took them to the porthole, and tossed them out.

Sofia stopped swinging her legs, then realized it must be safe. “We are over the sea already, then?”

“Yes. I generally don’t aim to kill people by throwing things out of airships.” The porthole latch squeaked as he screwed it shut. “Try not to think of me as stupid, Sofia. It will help you keep out of trouble.”

“I’d prefer Miss White, from you. You’ve a very bleak view of life, Mr. Dankyo. And I was hoping to like you. After admiring your physique and all.” She grinned inside. Teasing him was just a little perilous but fun.

But being caught in the knife-sharp flare of his eyes was not. She almost flinched.

“Sofia. I intend to call you what I wish. Let me be clear. I protect you. I do not serve you. You have a nice voice and a passable figure; don’t destroy my perception of you by being petty.” He walked toward her.

“
Pfft
.” Making the belittling noise sent a tinkle of ice through her veins, but she needed to stand up to him now, or she’d lose her nerve. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a stick up your ass?”

And now he was standing before her, towering just a mite, but she didn’t sink back in the chair.
Nerves of steel—that’s me. Gulp.

“Often.” He leaned in, propped his hands on the chair arms, and gave her a thin smile. “Sometimes I beat them with said stick.”

She swallowed. “
Eww
. Sorry, but just plain
ewww
. That paints a disgusting picture.”

He smiled, crinkles appearing around his eyes. “Good. My jokes are improving, then.” He reached down and adjusted the fine embroidered neckline of her tunic. When his fingertips brushed her skin, swirls of cold, and somehow also heat, swept to her stomach. “I suggest you check your luggage, Sofia. I must go settle the cost of our passage.”

The soft stomp of his boots subsided as he made for the door. There was a quiet
click
, and she was alone. “Oh my God.” She slumped. “That man.” Half the time she wanted to kill him, the other half, she wasn’t sure. Her female nature seemed to be playing havoc with her emotions. It must be the time of the month.

“I’m sure I had other questions. But what in hell were they?”

She opened her cases and blanched. Not only had he left some equipment behind, all her clothes had been replaced. How? The man must have had no more than two days’ notice of her joining him on this trip. He’d even removed the clothes from the smaller case she’d brought with her, and how fast was that? Was the man a magician? He’d left her notes and the lithographs at least.

The new clothes stunned her. She’d spent her adult years only wearing a dress when she absolutely had to. Every single article of clothing he’d brought her was flimsy as a breeze, pretty and feminine, and as delicately revealing as lingerie.

I am doomed
. She put a fingernail in her mouth and nibbled. Though, goodness, all this must be worth more than her university stipend for a year.
Were those real gemstones?

Chapter Four

It was a two-day trip to Byzantium, with all the stops to let passengers off or to dodge around the Ottoman territories. Learning to do the slave’s obeisance and how to kneel gracefully on command without grimacing was nigh impossible. Dankyo never looked smug. He merely instructed, yet it bothered her no end. Her mind endlessly reminded her that this was so wrong.

The first time she did the obeisance with her forehead to the floor and arms outstretched, she’d had a fit of the giggles and earned a growl from the stupid man. This was not why she’d studied for years. But, she persevered, and so did he. And the first time she got it right, she’d waited in position for what seemed ages. The only word he spoke was a gruff, “Good.”

When she sat up, he had a look of what she could only think of as puzzlement on his face. She might be a puzzle expert, but this one had her stumped. Did he think her so inept that she couldn’t learn simple body moves and positions?

Maybe he did. To prove him wrong, she memorized and did the next two positions and moves perfectly in a quarter the time. Which had achieved exactly no more than a curt,
thank you
, from Dankyo. Annoying.

Even in sleep he annoyed her. She’d not slept in the same room as a man more than a few times at university, and none of them had loud nightmares like Dankyo. Though she detested some of his ways, she couldn’t help but wonder what haunted him, and couldn’t help but feel concern. When she tried to wake him by hissing words at him, he’d sat up and muttered some unintelligible curses at her in the dark—and
that
had scared the hell out of her.

By the second day, she was ready to gnaw her fingernails off from boredom and her shoulder surely had bruises from sleeping on the floor. No matter which way she’d turned, the timber floor had been like rock. The alternative was to share the bed with Dankyo, which was going to happen over her still-twitching corpse.
Never.

If only there was something worth doing in the cabin. She’d pored over her notes and the lithographs of the tomb so many times the words floated before her eyeballs. The picture of the Clockwork Warrior in all his gold-and-mosaic magnificence always captured her attention. The two certified paintings of him, seated with his sword between his knees, were what she’d based her thesis on. She’d not thought anyone outside academia would read it, but it seemed someone had. The emperor-bey of Byzantium no less. She could see the smile on her father’s face as he congratulated her.

As if
. He’d probably call it a lucky guess.