by Anne Marsh
“It’s a long step from tea-garden girl to thief,” he points out calmly. “Maybe you’d care to explain how you made that leap.”
“Leverage.”
It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow, but I continue. “He came to the gardens one day.”
“Lierr?”
“Yes. Of course, none of us knew who he was. He was just getting his start then; his first apprentices were only beginning to make names for themselves. The thefts had got some notice, but he hadn’t pulled off anything spectacular. Not yet.”
“He was recruiting?” Jafar’s hands tighten into fists.
Why should he care? It happens every day in Shympolsk.
“I don’t think he ever stops.” It’s one of the reasons why I’m so desperate to get my sister out of his grasp. Eventually, he’ll figure out another use for Lore besides leverage. “He watched us for quite some time, ordering tea, sampling the gardens’ pleasures.” He’d had a dancer on each knee, but even as a six year-old, I’d known he wasn’t paying those girls any attention. No, his real focus had been fixed elsewhere. He’d sat there, still and watchful, the dark folds of his robe pooling around him in a graceful circle that had fascinated my younger self.
“He recruits children?”
“Children learn better. Faster. And neither of us had any sort of future to look forward to. I would have ended up dancing in the gardens, entertaining customers on the side. What Lierr had to offer was better.”
“Why you?”
“I was quick. Observant.” And very, very vulnerable. He’d seen me for what I was. One of the many orphans who struggled to survive on the streets, but with one critical difference: I had a sister. He’d recognized the potential at once. He’d bought the two of us from the tea garden, used Lore to coerce me into joining his thieves.
“And he’s the one who told you to come for the necklace.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m desperate,” I admit. My voice sounds tired. “He has my sister, Jafar, and since he’s not overly endowed in the scruples department, he’ll hurt her or worse if I don’t return, necklace in hand. When I signed on with him, I agreed to perform one hundred thefts. I’ve successfully completed ninety-nine. I only owed him one more. This was the last one, if I succeeded. After that, I’m a free agent.”
And freedom is number two on my to do list, right after Free Lore.
“Yesterday, you said that if I led you to Lierr, you’d bring him back here to face justice. I don’t know if you meant that, but with you or without you, I’ve got to get the necklace and take it to Shympolsk. And I’ve got less than a week to do it.”
Lierr is capable of anything. In the twenty years I’ve learned from and worked for him, I’ve never found anything remotely resembling a scrap of conscience in the thief master. He’s cold to the bone. If it takes hurting Lore to make me come back, Lierr will do it in a heartbeat. And he won’t care what obstacles I face on my return journey—Lierr simply doesn’t accept excuses. Ever. That trait has guaranteed him success as a thief master.
“Right.” Jafar eyes me. “So you need to get out of the Valley. With the necklace. Fast.”
I nod my head. “Will you help me?”
“I will. That was part of our bargain last night. There’s just one problem.”
I don’t like the direction in which this conversation is headed. “Are you telling me you’re changing the terms of our deal?” Over my dead body.
He shakes his head. “Not me. Amun Ra. He will allow you to leave this temple, to return to Lierr. But—”
“Here it comes,” I add bitterly.
“But he will not permit you to take the necklace with you. The necklace stays here because it is too dangerous to be allowed out into the world.”
“And you agree with him? You made me a promise!”
“I do agree with him that the necklace is dangerous and taking it out of the temple is fraught with danger. But,” he shrugs, “I see no other way to coax your Lierr out of his hidey-hole so quickly. You said yourself that he will give you no more time to bring the necklace to him, that he may even now be hurting your sister. No,” he presses a finger against my lips and I fight back the urge to bite him, “I don’t think he will kill her. Not yet. Not until he sees for himself whether or not you can bring him the necklace.”
“He’ll see when I show up and can’t flash him the jewels.”
“Yes, he will. And that is why I believe we will need to take matters into our own hands.”
“Into our own hands?” He’s positively, wonderfully crazy.
He answers my question by casually dropping the necklace into my lap in a smooth rush of metal. “While you were sleeping, I went back to the burial chamber and retrieved this little bauble. A lot easier for me to pull off than for you. I will take both you and the necklace out of the temple and to Lierr. We will let him lay his hands on this necklace that he wants so badly.”
“You want me to be bait.”
“It’s what we agreed on last night. I believe I can still take down Lierr for you—and rescue your sister. But we’re going to be up against both the thieves and the Guardians, so you must decide whether you want to take these odds—or not.”
“With you.”
“Yes, with me. I never fail,” he says stiffly. “Guardians do not fail. It is unacceptable.”
“Never?”
“No. Guardians who fail are tossed back into the vortex from which we were called.” His eyes darken. “It is most unpleasant and quite fatal. No Guardian goes willingly into the vortex, nor do we cross that border unless we are forced to do so.”
I nod in understanding. “Like being fired.”
“No,” he says. “Not precisely like being fired.”
JAFAR
Being sent to the vortex is far worse than merely being fired.
The vortex is an endless swirling, empty space. It pulls a Guardian’s essence in so many directions that he is literally shredded. Although those shreds can then be reknit into new beings, the Guardian himself is gone. The agonizing pain of stretching and pulling is unforgettable, even if life before the vortex is no longer recalled. The Amun Ra discovered the secret of knitting Guardians together out of the vortex and put his knowledge to work when he required guards for his temple. Invincible, otherworldly guards.
I have no distinct memories, of course, of those moments before my body was pulled together from the darkness swirling in the vortex, but I do remember the sharp pain that cut like a knife. I am no coward, but I have no desire to relive it.
Ever.
There are things that can break even the strongest of warriors. And yet if I leave the temple with the necklace, if I am caught by the Amun Ra, then that is where I will go. But for Miu, I intend to take the risk. She is my mate now; she wears my bells. I will do whatever is necessary to protect her.
I seat myself on the low bed beside her, and begin laying out an arsenal of weapons and leather travel wear for both of us. She looks at the blades as though she half expects my brother Guardians to burst through the chamber door at any moment.
“So how do we get the necklace out of here?” she asks.
“This is no ordinary temple.”
“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” she mutters.
“When we take the necklace out of the temple, we will trigger alarms, femi. Wards.”
“I’ve heard stories about snakes. Nasty reptilians aiming for all of my soft, warm spots. Any truth to that?”
I arch an eyebrow. She has warm spots I would like to explore myself; I think of licking her pink sex and am pleased to see that she squirms as if she’s had the same thought herself.
“Not just snakes,” I admit.
She cringes visibly. “There are more traps?”
“The Guardians themselves will be our biggest problem. Once they sense which way we are heading, they will move to cut us off at the exit point I choose.” My eyes hold hers calmly. “
This time, there will be no trial. This time, my brothers will consider you to have been warned by your previous encounter with our kind.”
“And?” Her voice sounds a little anxious.
I pull her up against my chest, stroking my hand over the curve of her throat. I will comfort her the best I can.
“We Guardians have strong appetites and spend much of our time alone. And the summer heat drives all of our kind strongly. Since their orders will be to kill you and since their blood will have been heated by the recent Hunt,” I shrug, “I imagine the unmated pride members would toy with you before they finish you off.”
“Even though I’m your mate?” she shoots back. “No paws-off policy with you Cats?”
“But are you really my mate?” I demand. “Yes, you wear my bells, but I’d be willing to bet that you’ve been lying here all morning, scheming how you can get out of the temple on your own. I saw yesterday just how little you want a partner.”
“You got the necklace for me.” She smiles sweetly at me, but I don’t trust her sudden docility. “Of course you’re my partner.”
“Convince me,” I say, leaning back. “Convince me that you want to be my mate.”
“What,” she asks, her voice sinking to a low rasp, “would I have to do to convince you?”
MIU
I can’t possibly miss the enormous bulge in his black loincloth. Jafar wears only the small scrap of material, which wraps snuggly around his hips and leaves little to the imagination. The heavy crest of his cock strains above the fabric; the dark plum-colored tip with its small drop of clear liquid fascinates me. He wants me again, and the heat of his body threatens to overwhelm me.
His eyes challenge me. “Everything. You would have to do everything. Would you have sex with a shifter again, my Miu?”
He runs a hand down my arm, massaging the muscles and tugging gently on my fingertips, releasing a small sting of pleasure. Relaxing and arousing me. I want him to repeat that same stroke until he buries his fingers in my pussy, petting and pinching until I explode around him.
“You can ask me to take you.” He stares at me, noting my interest. “And I will give you pleasure. You are my chosen mate. It is my duty. My pleasure.”
Yes, he will.
He has.
“Or you can go through that door alone, try to find your own way out of the temple,” he says. His hand shapes my breast, parting the silk clasps of my robe until the material falls back around my waist. Teasing the nipple, he builds the heat in me. “I can pleasure you. Or,” he pinches my nipple gently, creating a sweet sting of pain, “you can take your chances with the other Guardians. You must choose. Make the right choice, my Miu, and I will protect you from their less-than-tender mercies.”
I place my hands deliberately on his chest, feeling the hot burning muscles leap beneath my touch. “Are you so merciless to your mates? Show me,” I purr. “Why don’t you show me what they will do to me?”
“They will savage these,” he promises. He takes my nipple into his hot mouth. I can feel the heat transferring from him. Building.
I push the robe off, feeling the teasing trickle of beads of sweat rolling down my exposed flesh. The warmth is incredible. “Doesn’t the heat end?”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
“How can you stand it?” I want to scream from the sensations.
He’s done talking. “No more questions. No demands. Show me you wish to be my mate.”
He runs a hand down my back, delving between the curve of my cheeks. The fingers of his other hand rest on my pussy.
“Open yourself for me,” he orders. God, the man loves giving orders.
I pull the lips of my pussy apart and shudder at the agonizing rush of sensation as they part. The swollen, damp feel of my own flesh meets me. I am slippery with my own juices. His fingers don’t hesitate, driving deep inside me, probing, finding a hidden sweet spot that makes me arch my back and whimper with the pleasure.
“You could take many men this way,” he promises. “One cock.” He shoves and his own slowly slips inside me. “Maybe two. They would try.”
His fingers push inexorably inside. Full. So full. Stretched. Aroused and vulnerable. And yet there’s a thread of gentleness beneath the dark promise of his words. His fingers move in counterpoint to his cock until the pleasure threatens to tear me apart.
“There would be a half dozen at the least,” he continues. “More waiting. One or two to take your mouth. As many again for your pussy. And then,” his other hand strokes down my back, “another for your ass.” Dark pleasure unfolds in me. His finger explores the smooth, hidden skin between the opening to my pussy and my rear hole, tapping lightly so that pleasure strums through me.
“Have you been taken here, Miu?” he demands. “Have your lovers stood you up against the wall, made you hold apart your own cheeks while they reamed your pretty pink ass?” Gods, I can’t think. Can only feel as he fills me and fills me.
He pulls free from my body with a wet sound. “Tell me,” he demands.
I can’t think, can’t respond to his erotic authority as dark, forbidden images flood my mind. A fantasy male parting my cheeks with a darker promise, the blunt fingertip tracing the seam of my ass and then forcing its way into my asshole, twisting until a dark pleasure spirals through me. Only his finger, moving ruthlessly in and out while I moan helplessly, trapped by that single digit, connected to him by an unspeakable pleasure that follows the dark pleasure burn of each invasion.
Jafar can do this for me.
Will do it for me. If I can convince him I really want to be his mate. But the words of submission won’t not leave my lips.
“And why shouldn’t I take my chances with them, Jafar?” Pulling free, I twist slowly away from him. “Why not?”
“Because,” he says fiercely, “for them it will not be a mating game. They will not stop and they will not care if you find pleasure. For them, it will be a death sentence that they carry out, and you will find, my femi, that you do not care for sadism even if you might enjoy it when I paddle your ass for you again.”
Truth. I’ve seen sex slaves before, slaves who are expendable and whose owners are both harsh and brutal. That’s nothing I would ever allow myself to become. “Why else?”
“Because,” he says with a groan, “even if I am one of the temple’s Guardians, I cannot bear to hand you over to them. I would keep you, my mate.”
He gently pulls me toward him again, and I don’t protest as he parts the robe once more and plunges his cock deep inside me. Instead, I scream with the pleasure of it, as he drives into me again and again, seeking and finding our release together.
He gives me the pleasure he’s promised, and more. Even though I haven’t spoken the words he waits to hear.
Later, I discover Jafar has not exaggerated about the Guardians sensing which way we are headed. We hear sounds of pursuit almost as soon as we enter the obscure tunnel exit he has chosen for our escape.
“You must listen to me,” he warns. “They’re already after us. I will do what I can to stop them—but you must promise you will do precisely as I ask.” He lays a cautionary finger across my lips. “There is no time to dispute this. You know what we’re up against now. Are we in this together? You must decide. Trust me. Don’t trust me. If you would prefer to take your own chances, I can send you out the escape shaft. I can stay behind. It will buy you twenty minutes, maybe more, depending on whether Amun Ra sends all his Guardians or merely the best after us.”
I imagine that sort of power unleashed on us and wonder: what will happen to Jafar if I leave him here to hold the tunnel behind me?
“They will kill me.” He shrugs, answering my unasked question. “But you will have your head start. You will be free of the temple and the rest of it will be in your hands and up to your ingenuity. The Guardians will not stop hunting you just because you step outside the temple.”
My emotions are a welter of conflicting desires. I’ve never w
orked with a partner before. Do I dare trust Jafar? He radiates strength, both inside and out. I’ve known him for such a short while and yet I want to know more. He will be as strong emotionally as he is physically—he could truly match me.
I make my decision.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
Hanging from a rope in pitch darkness, I can’t believe I’ve followed Jafar into this predicament. I balk when he leads me to the vertical air shaft, but he gives me no chance to turn back.
“It’s our best chance of getting out,” he explains. “The Guardians will have to climb after us one at a time. I can pick them off one by one if I need to.”
It takes half an hour to reach the top; climbing up is an agonizing matter of placing the grappling hook in the stone over and over and then forcing my arms to move along the rope, ignoring the painful burn in my oxygen-deprived muscles and concentrating on each movement. Mind over matter. So far, we’ve heard no further sound of anyone following.
“Don’t stop, femi,” Jafar growls from below me.
Right. Easy for him to say.
“You failed to mention that someone’s capped the shaft.” When I gesture at the stone grille blocking the exit, the rope sways nauseatingly. I have no idea how far up we’ve climbed, but I know falling means instant death.
“Hold still,” Jafar says, and that’s all the warning he gives. His large body moves swiftly, smoothly up the rope, surrounding me in the hot cage of his arms. His body presses skin to skin with mine.
I eye the rope hook—has the hook shifted? Or am I imagining things? “Too much weight,” I protest.
“The rope will hold.” He dismisses my concerns as if he’s done this before. Perhaps he has. How do I know what he has or hasn’t done? Note to self: ask for details of escape plan before agreeing to engage.
One hard arm wraps around my waist, drawing me securely back against his chest. With his other arm, he reaches out and pushes at the capstone. The heavy stone slides easily to one side. The temple’s builders placed the heavy stone on grooves so that it slides smoothly at the slightest touch. Outside, a cliff awaits us. The air shaft comes out at the back of the temple, between its massive stone wall and the steep incline of one of the hills ringing the Valley. My rappelling isn’t finished for the day. Jafar presses a quick kiss against the top of my head.