by Anne Marsh
He felt compelled to keep her safe. Hell, he hated this vulnerability. Was this what Hebon had felt for his mate? The incessant need to protect, to touch. He wanted to cherish her, as if she were some priceless treasure. When he knew damn well she was a living, breathing, stubborn female who insisted on giving as good as she got—and who’d managed to steal not only a necklace but a piece of his heart as well.
The musky notes of his femi teased his senses. Sweeter, spicier than the large white blooms of the night jasz that crawled up the thick trunk of a tree just outside the cave. He should leave her to mourn her fallen companions while he combed the clearing for more clues. The Ifrits’ scent trail disappeared into the shadows that surrounded them; it might be possible to track them, follow them to the next scene of butchery.
And there would be a next scene. It was why the Guardians were sworn to root out the Ifrits mercilessly. Since Jafar was the only Guardian on the scene, it fell to him to stop them. Never mind that he was now rogue, with a death sentence undoubtedly imposed on his head; he was still sworn to protect this world. If he’d been sure how the Ifrits had made it into this realm, his job would have been easier. Unfortunately, he only had his suspicions and, to confirm them, he needed his femi’s help.
“Hey, kitty.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to regain that tough facade she always hid behind. “What now?” Her teary eyes glowed silver as the moon snuck up into the sky from behind the stand of trees where it had been lurking. Hours had passed while they buried her men, while she grieved for them.
She’d never admit to the tears, but they were still there, breaking his heart.
“Don’t,” he said, capturing her fingers in his hand. Rubbing the slender digits, he tugged at the pads, smiling at her involuntary intake of breath. For a thief with a seemingly insatiable lust for jewels, her fingers were surprisingly bare.
Her fingers curled into his palm. “What was that for?” As always, she eyed him suspiciously. He stroked another long, luxurious caress over her skin, enjoying the way her muscles flowed and relaxed beneath his touch. Her body was learning to trust him even if her mind resisted.
“Mates touch.”
She eyed him and then said, “It’s a strategic alliance, kitty. Purely business and you know it.”
What would it take to get her to admit to the truth of their relationship? He took a step closer. She glowered up at him, uncowed. “I had your promise otherwise.”
“Promises made under duress?” She shrugged. “Don’t count, in my book.”
“I gave you a choice when we were making our escape. You agreed to trust me. We’re partners now.”
Deliberately, he crowded her, dominated her. He wasn’t going to let her ignore him.
“Did I?” She peeked up through her lashes at him. “And you believed me? I don’t want to be anyone’s mate. If I had needed a male, I would have brought one with me.”
“From the pleasure gardens of Shympolsk?” He ignored the small throb of jealousy. It wasn’t him. It was all males that she distrusted, and given her history, it was no wonder. Surely, if he kept that fact in mind, it would make her rejection less painful.
“Sure. Wherever.” She eyed him.
“And would you sleep with your thief master, too?”
“News flash, kitty.” She smiled benevolently at him. “We’re not precisely sleeping together, are we?”
No, they were only having the hottest sex of his life in either realm. From the self-satisfied little smirk on her face, she knew it, too. His eyes narrowed. Admitting as much would be like handing her the reins of their relationship. And, knowing his mate, she’d drive away from him just as fast as her hot little body could take her. There had to be a way to make her stay.
“What do we do now?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts. “I’ve got no guards, no horses, and just one week to get the necklace back to Lierr.”
“We stick to our original plan. You’ve still got me.”
Swinging her up into his arms, Jafar carried her toward the darkest side of the clearing.
“Why, Jafar,” she said, in a tone he couldn’t quite interpret, “Don’t tell me you’re a closet romantic?”
Just because he could—just because he clearly shouldn’t, since there were things going on here that they needed to figure out—he wanted to kiss her. What could be more romantic than a full moon and a darkened clearing? Hell, he could even hear the faint, melodic sounds of water. Undoubtedly, in daylight, the water would turn out to be a brackish, muddy trickle issuing from some equally grubby rocks where a merchant caravan had stopped to water the camels, but at night . . . Well, in the dark hours, Jafar was smart enough to realize that the same miserly trickle of water was a mazhykal thing. And he knew enough to keep their boots out of the dung patties the clearing’s previous occupants had left behind.
There was a second, smaller clearing tucked away on the other side of a stand of trees. His femi paused, a tense, prickly little armful, but the stiff line of her spine relaxed ever so slightly when he put her down in the open, moon-bathed space. She turned her face up so she was washed in the clear, cool light.
Moonlight.
“You’re a moon daemon,” he remembered.
“Half daemon,” she corrected. “On my father’s side.”
“The moon calls to you, draws you.”
She nodded. “It always has.”
“I wonder if that was why Lierr sent you.”
He looked at the silver necklace glowing in the light of the moon, and knew it was time to let Miu in on some of its secrets. If the necklace could do what he suspected it could, this wasn’t just about her sister anymore. Heqet, it wasn’t just about the two of them anymore either.
“What did Lierr tell you about the moonstone necklace?” he asked. “Why do you think he’s so fired up about getting his hands on it?”
Touching the heavy piece of jewelry around her neck, she traced the silver in her hands. Even after almost dying for this hunk of metal and stone, she still couldn’t figure out what the attraction was. “He didn’t share his reasons, just the consequences if I failed to bring it back.” She held the piece up to the moonlight, where it seemed to take on an unearthly glow. “He’s targeted particular pieces before, but he’s always been willing to pull back if it looked like we weren’t going to be able to acquire them.”
“And he’s not the only one after the necklace,” Jafar added. “There has been a dramatic increase in intruders to the temple lately.”
“And all of them were human thieves?” She arched a brow at him.
“No,” he replied thoughtfully. “Not all of them were thieves. Some were Ifrits.”
“I thought you had Ifrits crossing over all the time.”
“But not all in one section of the temple.”
“Which section is that?” She had a sinking sensation that she knew. Jafar wasn’t just making conversation. He was making a point.
“The points closest to Pho’s coffin. The princess you exhumed.” He dragged a hand through his hair.
“You’re on a first-name basis with the dead?”
“This one, yeah. I killed her.”
He cut her off before she could ask questions. “She
had the necklace on at the time.” He reached out to finger the glowing moonstone.
His little femi was no fool. She could see the regret that must be visible on his face. “What’s your interest in all this?” she demanded. “Talk.”
***
“I made a mistake, a mistake I can’t fix. Doesn’t matter that I want to, that if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d do what I was supposed to do, no matter what.”
“What were you supposed to do?”
“Down there in the catacombs, standing watch on the Doorways, it was all just routine to a young Cat. I was bored, Miu. I didn’t find it particularly exciting to stand guard where I’d been told to stand guard, and I thought I knew better than older, wiser m
embers of my pride. Why couldn’t they see that nothing was going to happen where I was assigned? That’s what I told myself and I was convinced I was right. When the first Ifrit came charging through the narrow crack, I was elated, femi. I thought I was finally going to see a battle worthy of the name. Of my name. I cut the Ifrit down and never stopped to ask myself why he went down so easily.”
“He didn’t put up a fight?”
“He did. Enough to lull my initial suspicions, enough so that I felt strong. Powerful. Lethal. When the female followed, the first death had dulled my killing edge just that little, necessary bit. I didn’t swing automatically when she slipped through the Doorway. I stopped. I took a good look.” His gorgeous golden eyes turned dull, flat, tracking the memories only he could see.
She wanted to strangle the woman who had done this to him—and that confused her. Heqet’s balls. She was starting to think of him as hers. She wanted to keep him.
“She was a female. She was young. I dismissed her as absolutely no threat at all and let her come through.”
Threading her hand through his tawny mane, she rubbed gently at his scalp. Keeping him was impossible. She was a thief. He was a Guardian. Right?
“But she wasn’t harmless.” It had to be said and she had to keep him talking.
“No,” he agreed heavily, pressing a kiss against her exploring palm. “Pho did a world of damage. I brought her up to the surface. Let her run free for a bit, thinking to gain her trust. She had spun me a tale of being abducted by the Ifrits, forced to serve them in Qaf. It wasn’t unheard of.” He lifted a shoulder. “It had happened. Sure, we’d never got one of those females back alive, but sometimes the Qaf dwellers would push the brutalized bodies back through the Doorways. A sort of taunt that they’d won that particular battle. I figured she’d been lucky enough to tag along behind a warrior headed for the Doorways. She had the bruises—the scars—to back up her story. Whenever one of us got too close, she’d tremble like a leaf.”
Once again, Miu fought an urge to rip the long dead woman to shreds.
“Of course, I was just about as wrong as they come. She wasn’t harmless and she wasn’t scared. Just clever enough to play on our delight in having rescued a female from the hands of the Ifrits. We let her wander around the temple and congratulated ourselves every time she looked a little less frightened.”
“So you were nice to her. She took advantage.” There had to be more to the story than a male feeling foolish over a female.
He pressed a hard kiss against her throat.
Just for once, she decided, she wanted to be wrong. This was not going to be a happy story.
“You could say that. She slipped into a guard room and slit the throats of a half dozen Cats before I caught her. And Hebon’s mate Oni was there, one of the first victims of Pho’s bloodlust. Maybe if she hadn’t been there, the Guardians would have reacted faster, but Pho’s turning on us was unbelievable. Straight out of a nightmare. Just standing there, laughing, blood dripping from her blade. She just stood there and waited for me to see what she had done, and then she used the blasted necklace to open up a Doorway between the temple and Qaf.”
Miu stared. “She didn’t get away?”
“No,” he said grimly. “She overlooked the possibility of my becoming sufficiently angry to forget the gentlemanly traits that had protected her so far. I stuck a blade in her as she stood there, laughing, with one foot in each realm. Portal closed and I’m pleased to say that only her foot made it back to Qaf. The rest of her we threw into the first empty chamber we could find.”
Miu thought of the dead skeleton from whom she’d plucked the necklace. Had all the bones been there?
“I won’t make that mistake again. Haven’t made it. Whatever comes through the Doorways, I kill.”
Miu realized it was a miracle she herself was still alive. And no wonder Jafar was so determined to learn why Lierr was after the necklace. His story explained so much.
“I have a pretty strong feeling that moonstone around your neck opens Doorways. What I need to know now,” he continued, “is why Lierr sent you for the necklace.”
“Because I’m his best?” She tried using her usual sarcasm.
“How much do you want to bet that it takes a being with some pretty powerful moon mazhyk to make the damn thing work?”
Automatically, she shoved at his hand and he let her go. She didn’t go far, stepping away from him to look up into the darkening night sky. The first silver points of starlight pricked the blackness around the rising moon.
“You’re saying Lierr wanted me to go after the necklace because he needed a moon daemon to make the stone do whatever it does.”
“That’s what I think.” He reached out and put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Unless he’s got a mage or someone equally powerful in his keeping, you’re Lierr’s best hope of making that necklace work. I don’t know why your thief master wants this particular ability, but the man can’t possibly have a good reason.”
“There’s only one hole in that theory,” Miu replied, scuffing her foot on the ground. “Lierr may know that I’m a moon daemon, but he also knows I’m not a very good one.” She pulled her shoulders back and looked up to face him. “He knows I’m a weak, weak halfling. If I had any real power, don’t you think I would have used it by now to get my sister away from him?”
“How do you know you have no power?” he asked intently.
Miu stared at him impatiently. “I think I’d know if I had any awesome moon daemon mazhyk, don’t you? In the last two decades, I can assure you I’ve done squat as far as moon mazhyk is concerned.”
“There’s one sure way to test my theory.” He smiled slightly. “If you’re not afraid?”
“Be my guest.” She gestured with her hand. “If you want to stand out here, testing ridiculous theories, while we wait for the Ifrits to track us down, you go right ahead. I’ll even give you five minutes of my time,” she added graciously.
***
“You need to bleed.”
Miu had just known that satisfying the tall, arrogant, hulking male looming over her was going to take more than parading around in the moonlight like a fool. She’d honestly tried to get in touch with her daemon mazhyk, but no luck. Daddy dearest hadn’t left her with an instruction manual. She’d wrapped both hands around the stone and flapped it in the pool of silvery light. Nothing. She wasn’t surprised. No spooky mazhyk in her.
“I’m no expert on how the Ifrits travel between realms, but I know there was plenty of blood around when Pho opened that Doorway.” He cursed and took a step closer to her. Right. As if she were letting him anywhere near her after that statement. She glared at him.
Smart male. He stopped walking, but his fingers were clearly itching to draw a blade. She kept one eye on them and hefted the necklace again. “See? No moon mazhyk. Nada. Nothing. Got any more ideas, or can we get on with returning to Shympolsk sometime before Lierr decides to make shish kebab out of my sister?”
“Got to activate it.” He frowned and she suddenly found herself staring at the endearing little crinkle of skin between his eyebrows. Snap out of it, girl, she reminded herself. The man wants to stick you like a pig and you’re admiring his facial features? She had it bad.
Behind them, the moon inched higher. In minutes, the silver circle would be directly above them. With the moonstone around her neck, she could feel the hot prickle of the light crawling over her skin. Awakening her. She had to fight to remain still. Heat unfurled low in her belly.
What would sex with a Guardian be like on this evening?
He smiled grimly and she realized that that was precisely what he intended to discover.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “No way. I’m not helping you out here.”
“It’s for a good cause, femi,” he said in that low, chocolate voice that she was coming to dread. It made her do things no self-respecting female would ever dream of doing.
&n
bsp; “You can feel it.” Jafar’s head dipped toward hers. When she bared her teeth at him, he smiled, low and dark. “Heat. Mazhyk.”
“No.” She denied it.
“You’re. Not. In. Control. Here.” His words were a dark promise, full of liquid heat. His eyes watched her.
“I am,” she challenged him. She couldn’t afford to lose this battle. Her sister was at stake. There was no time for sex.
“The moon, Miu,” he coaxed. “Look at the moon. Feel all that power? Imagine how it would feel running through that necklace of yours.” Her hands sought and found the heavy weight of the necklace clasped around her neck. She should take it off. Should throw it away.
He pulled her roughly against his body. Pressed against the hard, hot, masculine heat of his thighs, she could feel the leashed power.
“One finger,” he promised darkly, his eyes never leaving hers. His body demanded, pressing against hers. “I’ll put one finger into your pussy. No more. Imagine that, femi. I can feel how wet you are. How long would it take for you to come?”
He pushed her up against a tree in a smooth rush of muscled strength, lifting her thighs around his waist. Her breath caught at the feeling of being dominated, pinned open. He held her there, pressed against the smooth bark by his lower body. One hand slapped the trunk beside her head, creating a hot cage of male sinew and skin. Heqet, that skin. She wanted to taste it with her tongue until he hollered.
“Yes,” he coaxed. “One finger? All you have to do is ask.”
Right. She wouldn’t beg. Instead, she turned her head away, neither refusing nor permitting the caress.
His eyes gleamed darkly. One thick finger traced a wet path from the top of her pudenda down to the greedy opening to her body that fluttered in wicked anticipation. His finger found the front of her trousers and opened it, plunging boldly through the soft slit.