by Eve Langlais
“I’ll gut them if they try,” she said in a mutter while smiling wickedly at a few.
“You might want to put a hold on being bloodthirsty until we make it out alive.”
“Sure, ruin all my fun,” she teased, faking a smile at someone who wouldn’t stop staring.
They entered the palace and found themselves in a vast space, the strains of music the result of a band playing on a stage at the far end. Bodies twirled, gauze and skirts flinging around along with a great deal of noise.
She hated it.
“I hate it, too.”
Startled, she glanced at him.
He smiled. “Not reading your mind, just your expression.”
“They seem so artificial,” she remarked.
“Many of them are. When people go to the ball, it’s usually wearing a different face.” He glanced down at her. “Sometimes you have to pretend to get what you want.”
“What if they see through it?”
He grinned as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, whispering against her skin, “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got a lot of knives.”
She shivered at his touch and kept her gaze on his mostly so she didn’t glare elsewhere. “I can feel them staring.”
“Because you and I have just changed their boring existences. Our arrival is the highlight of their day, month, even year for some.”
“That’s dumb.”
“That’s court. As you can see, there’s a reason why Eden eschews it. Shall we?” he said, bringing her into the throng of dancers.
“But I don’t know how,” she said, almost in panic as she watched the graceful motions.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, swinging her toward him that he might lay his hand on her waist like the other dancers.
Her heart raced. If she pulled away or made a scene… She could already hear the whispers. “Swamp rat.” “Ill-bred.” “Whore.”
It only made her determined to do this. If those stupid twats could dance, then someone as ambidextrous as she was could, too. “What do you need me to do?”
“Open your mind just a little.” The warm cloak of his presence smothered her, teasing along the barriers in her head. Let me in.
She would probably regret it later, but she let her shields down just a little, worried that the other crawling fingers that had been touching since her arrival might sneak in.
Don’t worry. The thought brushed over her, and an even stronger shield settled over her head, easing her mental strain instantly as every other poking presence disappeared. She almost sighed in relief.
“Let’s dance.”
The actual words had her blinking at Roark as they suddenly swept into motion. But she didn’t stumble. She moved in rhythm with him, just a gentle nudge all she needed to follow his every move.
There was a cadence to the movements that followed the tempo from the musicians. She found herself falling easily into it, her feet tripping along with Roark in complicated steps then gaining in confidence. It soon became obvious how she could move her body a little extra to give a snap to the motions. A shimmy that made the sequins glitter. A roll of her hips for that extra sultry hint.
But the most entrancing part of the dance turned out to be his gaze. He kept his eyes on her, his darkness around her like a protective blanket. And she appreciated it.
Her lips curved into a smile, and she moved a bit closer to him like she’d seen the other dancers do. As the music shifted, so did she, whirling to give him her back, her gaze tracking the room, yet all too aware he moved behind her. His hands rested on her hips, and he leaned in to whisper against her ear, “The duke is in the crowd by the bar.”
Her eyes shifted to glance, but her awareness remained on Roark. She wasn’t the only one utterly intrigued.
Whipping around, she cast him a saucy smile. “I really should go check my hair.” She winked and then sashayed away, heading for the bar and the drink she needed after that dancing.
The coldest beverage they had.
As she passed the duke with his sleek hair and square nose, she made sure to ignore the older gentleman and his entourage. Completely.
She waited until she had a drink in her hand before she turned around, hating every moment she pretended. In Emerald, she’d always been herself. Even when she relocated to the Marsh, she didn’t let anyone try and change her into something she wasn’t.
However, Casey of Haven wasn’t what would get the job done tonight. This was a task for the countess. She took a sip of her drink, doing her best to not grimace at the sweetness of it.
She noticed the duke stared at her. She wondered if his white hair was because of age or genes. Charlie’s had a bit more gold to it. With the duke’s attention captured, she waited.
He moved toward her. Those standing nearest fell away to let him approach. She ignored the whispers for the most part, except one to her left.
“The nerve of the upstart bringing his slut.”
Casey turned and stared the woman in the eye. “That’s Countess to you, and close confidant of the king. Who are you supposed to be exactly?” Casey gave a disdainful sniff before the other woman could reply. “No one. Go away. The truly important people need to talk.”
“Why you—”
“Leave,” the duke ordered.
The woman paled. “Yes, Your Grace.” She dropped into a curtsy before practically running off with her friend.
Casey took another sip of the awful wine and eyed the duke. She didn’t curtsy or bow. She wasn’t sure which was appropriate, so she did nothing.
“Hello,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“You wouldn’t remember if we had,” she said with a smile. He didn’t know how true that statement was given how many people she’d killed.
“Might I inquire your name?”
“Casey.”
“I’m Duke Aqunium.”
“I know.”
“And where are you from, Casey?”
She leaned in close before whispering, “Are you really going to pretend you’re that dense? You know who I came with, and you want to know why.” She pulled away.
He held the same pleasant expression. “We should go somewhere a touch more private to discuss it.”
“By all means. Lead the way.” She looped her arm around his and felt a tickle along her mind.
What are you doing? It felt and sounded like Roark.
She had no idea how to reply, so she thought it. Having a chat with the duke.
They exited the busy room into a hall that grew empty the farther they went. She didn’t worry. The man by her side carried no weapon. Although she did wonder what kind of magic he wielded. His confidence reminded her in many respects of Roark.
The duke opened the door to a glassed room full of plants. So many varieties that she might have been more impressed if she’d not been living in the Marshes. She recognized many of the blooms. Some were native to Emerald.
She released the duke’s arm to give herself space to observe and react if needed.
The duke did nothing, almost as if he waited. Sure enough, Roark walked in a moment later, the picture of insouciance, hands in his pockets.
“Duke Aqunium, such a pleasure to see you.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” the duke replied dryly. He crossed his arms, a man a bit past his prime but not giving in to age. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here.”
Casey remarked, “You have a lot of nerve coming after him and his daughter.”
“Don’t you mean my granddaughter,” the duke sneered.
“You are welcome to visit her in Eden any time you like,” Roark stated.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Killing me won’t give you a real title.”
Roark snorted. “I don’t want one of your titles. I already have one. What I do want is for the attacks to stop.”
“So the reports I’ve heard about assassins are true?” The duke appeared quite happy about it
.
“As if you don’t know. You hired them,” Roark boldly stated, and she had to wonder if he read the duke’s mind or was bluffing.
“You think I’d waste money or time on you?” The tone of the duke’s reply left no doubt about that.
“You might for revenge,” Casey said, watching the duke’s expression.
“For what? Killing Theona?” The duke laughed. Hard and long. “On the contrary, I should thank you. When she found out I was considering her brothers to be my heirs, the little traitor ran to your Marsh city thinking she could use it as a power base to take me down. Your removal of her solved a problem for me.”
“So you held off coming after Roark until you ran out of heirs. With no one left to leave your legacy to, you decided to go after Charlotte,” Casey ventured, only to receive another negative.
“You need better informants, it would seem. I have an heir. Not to mention I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.”
“Since when?” Casey blurted out.
“Since two years ago,” the duke replied. “I’ve kept it quiet for the moment given the number of enemies I have. I lost two sons already.”
“They were killed?” Roark asked. “I thought they went mad.”
“They did and suddenly. No marsh fever. No warning signs. From sane to rabid in the space of a moment.” The duke looked sad, and she almost felt pity for him until he said, “They were obviously too weak.”
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Casey said, not willing to let him go as a suspect.
“Why would I lie?” the duke said.
“So I don’t kill you right now,” Roark stated, looking at ease, but she could sense the rising tension in the air, almost see the dark miasma of his power spreading like a living cloak.
The duke’s lips flattened. “I have no quarrel with the king of the Marsh.”
Roark suddenly went still. “Are you acknowledging my reign?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. When King Du’mer dies—”
“Don’t you mean if?” Roark taunted.
“When the king dies,” the duke reiterated, “once I am crowned, I will recognize your claim.”
“In return, what do you want?”
“No war.” The duke presented a cold smile. “I have all the lands here I need. Keep your Marshes. I have no use for them.”
“I’ll want that in writing along with trade and tariff agreements.”
She blinked at them both. “Did you just broker peace between your kingdoms?”
“We did.”
“Just like that?”
The duke appeared amused. “Exactly what did you expect? Civilized places know how to use discussion to get things accomplished. Given that we’ve completed our business, if you don’t mind, I should return to my guests.” The man left, and she gaped at Roark.
“What just happened?”
“We ruled out a suspect and just made the life of Marshlanders a little bit better.”
“Then why do you seem keyed up?” she asked.
“Because this deal is only good with the duke. If the king dies and someone else takes his spot, there are no guarantees.”
“I’d be more concerned with the reason we came here in the first place. Are you sure he’s not the one going after you?”
“He dropped his shields enough for me to get a peek inside his head. I saw a great many vile things, including his part in the poisoning demise of the current king and his plan to remove Shereen. Charlie isn’t even a blip in there.”
“Then why are you fuming?”
“Because it would have been easier if it was him.”
“You would have killed him.”
“It would have been the most elegant solution. Get rid of the duke, rescue the king, and because he’d be grateful, broker peace.”
“What’s our next move?”
He appeared almost defeated as he said, “I don’t know.”
“Does that mean we can go back to the room?” she asked, realizing the evening was over for the moment in some respects. However, that didn’t mean it had to completely end.
“Yes, why?”
“Because someone looks really pretty in that suit.” She winked. “Bet you’d look even better out of it.”
Chapter 22
He had to be dreaming. Must have misunderstood. Perhaps the duke had played on his weakness while Roark was planting suggestions about them being allies. Could Aqunium have planted something in Casey’s head?
Because he couldn’t believe Casey would…
She dragged him by the hand out of there, not rushing, never her. She held her head high and let them all see her. See the proud tilt of her chin, the confidence in her step.
She was so damned sexy.
They took the box back to the house they’d borrowed it from. Tanzie waited by the tunnel entrance door.
The entire trip back he kept thinking Casey must have just been teasing him. Yet the moment they reached their room, she shut the door and leaned against it. Her eyes glittered, and her lips were wet as if she’d licked them.
“Are you feeling yourself?” he asked.
“I heard as we passed through on our way out that the other times you’ve decided to show yourself, you always went alone.”
“Yes.”
“Just like you’ve never travelled here with a companion. You didn’t even bring Anita.”
“Mostly because if it went badly, I didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s death.”
“Is that so?” She eyed him. “Why did you change for me? You could have done this on your own.”
“I could have.”
“But you brought me along.”
“Only a dead man refuses allies.”
“You have allies. You chose me.”
“You’re much more useful.”
She arched a brow. “Pretty sure Titan would take offense.”
“He’s also not as pretty.” He tucked his hands behind his back lest he reach for her. “Are you looking for the truth, my lady?”
“You tell me.”
“The idea of coming here without you never occurred to me. I’ve got this odd need to have you nearby.”
“Why is that odd?”
“Because I’ve never needed anyone before. I’m used to people leaning on me for support, and yet you don’t want me to help you at all.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I want you to help me out of this dress.”
His eyes smoldered. “That might take too long.”
“Won’t it get in the way?” she said, leaning against the door once more.
“I say we find out.” He closed the distance between them and snared her bare leg, bringing it to hook around his hips.
He leaned in and kissed her hard, releasing the passion he’d been stifling for hours. Not just from when he’d seen her appear as a goddess but since he’d woken. Being around her aroused all of his senses. Enflamed him with need.
He did his best to command the kiss, but she wasn’t one to let him have all the control. She didn’t use force but rather coaxed him, the soft caresses parting his lips for a foray by her tongue.
He slid his hand higher up the leg he’d grabbed hold of, reaching the taut globe of her ass. He cupped it and used it to grind her closer.
She groaned and went limp on the door. He put his free arm around her waist on the other side.
It wasn’t hard to push up her skirt to accommodate the thigh he pressed between her legs. He gave a grunt of satisfaction at the feel of her grinding against him.
He changed the direction of his sensual exploration by dragging his lips across her cheek to the sensitive shell of her ear. He cupped her ass cheek and pulled her tighter.
She rotated her hips against him and murmured, “Touch me.”
“As you command.” He’d have done anything she asked in that moment. He replaced his leg with his hand, his finger sliding past the edge of the scanty underthings she wore. Damp fa
bric that tugged easily aside. Her fur was short and soft against his palm as he cupped her.
As he stroked her, she hummed in pleasure, and as he touched her, moving against her faster and faster, he watched her face. The parted lips. Her tightly shut eyes. The flush in her cheeks.
She clung to his shoulders, digging into his flesh.
He almost let her come with his strokes, but it turned out he could be selfish. He released her long enough to push his slacks down. His cock sprang free, and he gripped it, giving it enough direction to rub against her.
She mewled, a soft sweet sound, and her fingers spasmed as she held him. She wasn’t far, and her pleasure had him riding close. The head of his shaft probed her wet slit, but instead of thrusting, he knew enough to say, “Yes or no?”
“Yes, you idiot,” she growled as she took his mouth in a hot kiss. “And quickly.”
With a groan, he sheathed himself, feeling the heated moistness of her channel clenching around him. He trembled with the effort of going slow.
She wanted nothing of it. “Fuck me,” she gasped. “Stop being such a tease.”
For a woman with no mental psionics, she controlled him, nonetheless. He dug his fingers into her ass cheeks and began to move inside her.
It was absolute perfection.
He thrust into her, over and over, the head of his cock striking something that brought a sharp gasp each time. He increased his pace, feeling her tightening around him. Readying herself to come.
Just in time, he caught her mouth. She whimpered as she climaxed hard. The walls of her sex pulsed around him. So snug, he couldn’t help but find his own release.
It took a few more strokes before he could stop, and they stood there, intertwined, their bodies still heaving and hot.
He gave her a soft kiss. Then another. “Casey, I—"
Whatever he might have said was interrupted by the furious knocking on the door.
“What?” snarled Roark, his senses still muddled with pleasure.
“It’s me, Cam.”
They both froze, and Roark didn’t need to reach for her to feel the shared foreboding. There was only one reason Cam would be here.