by Anne Marsh
“At least admit that I won this round. Your little trick failed, Miu, and here we are. Just the two of us.” He waved a hand at their surroundings.
The cavern to which he’d brought them held only the bed he’d dropped her on, but the enormous four-poster with its crimson hangings dominated the already impressive space. Flames roared to life in the fireplace with a flick of his hand, their shadows crawling across the thick fur pelts that covered the floor. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what animal had provided the rug. Since Ifrits liked to skin their enemies, she was probably treading on some poor wereprince who’d fallen afoul of the Ifrits and had sacrificed his pelt for their creature comforts.
Unfortunately, there were no windows. Just a single doorway, and of course, Lierr’s large body was planted firmly between her and that escape route.
She needed moonlight to make the necklace work again: was the moon up here? If it were, she planned to do her damnedest to leave Lierr behind. Odds were high he couldn’t move freely between the realms or he would have done so on his own. He wouldn’t have been looking for the necklace.
She took a half step toward the cavern mouth. If she could make it outside, maybe she stood a chance of escaping. But first she’d have to retrieve the moonstone necklace. She put her hand to her throat. Lierr must have removed it while she was unconscious.
Lierr stalked toward her and she scrambled for the safety of words. She had to keep him talking. Had Jafar made it through the Doorway? Was he somewhere on Qaf, searching for her?
“Why?” She eyed him. Had he grown even larger since they’d arrived here or was she imagining things? “Why’d you come through the Doorway to our world all those years ago?”
“Looking for true confessions, a tell-all tale, Miu?”
“Humor me.” Apparently he must have thought he did owe her something. Not only did he not backhand her for her curiosity, but he filled in the blanks for her.
“I fell in love, Miu.” He bowed mockingly. “Like you, I’m afraid I chose someone a tad out of my social class. Pho was charming, talented, beautiful.” He shrugged. “As well as bloodthirsty, passionate, and ambitious. Perfection in an Ifrit package with a bloodline that would have made a purist weep.”
“Sounds fabulous.” Had he placed the necklace in his pocket? The material bulged slightly and, as unfamiliar as she was with Ifrit anatomy, she recognized concealed jewels when she saw them. How to get it back?
“Oh, she was.” His eyes darkened. “Except for the princess bit. That part made my life infinitely more difficult. The rank and file don’t court the nobility.”
Not in any world. Yeah, that would have sucked all right. No point in throwing her abductor that bone though. “Didn’t know that Ifrits had females.” If they had females of their own, then why were they constantly marauding through the Doorways, making off with human females? Something didn’t add up.
“A few.” Lierr’s eyes darkened. “Well guarded. But Pho, well, she was as restless—as curious—as I was. She’d laid hands on the necklace years before we teamed up; the bauble had apparently belonged to her mother. The necklace’s powers made it possible for the wearer—and anyone touching her—to move through the Doorways as many times as they wished. So we explored.”
“She was a moon daemon?”
“No, the necklace was keyed to her family’s bloodlines. It worked for her and would have worked for her mother. It certainly didn’t work for me.”
“So why me?” She stared at him suspiciously. “Why am I able to make the thing work?”
He smiled patronizingly. “Apparently, when the necklace was created, moon daemon blood was used to seal the words into the stone. A loophole, a back door,” he said impatiently, when she looked at him blankly. “In case someone besides the owner wanted to use the artifact, he’d have to know what kind of blood was used in the original ceremony—and he’d have to be able to lay hands on that kind of donor.” He laughed, but Miu didn’t think he found anything funny. “Ifrit society—our society—is terribly ancient. And rather Byzantine. My kind dotes on that sort of mystery and ritual. Creating a powerful artifact with secret keys would have been right up their alley. Easy access for those with the right family bloodlines—and a holy grail for everyone else.”
Lierr stepped closer and, this time, there was nowhere to go, short of hopping back up onto the bed, and there was no way she was issuing that kind of invitation. He stroked one long finger down her neck, testing the softness of her flesh. “Pretty,” he said absentmindedly.
She stepped away from his touch, closer to the cavern mouth. She couldn’t make a run for it though. He’d be on her in a flash. “Tell me more,” she encouraged. Tell me more and forget about the lustful thoughts you’re wearing on your face. Hell, he could have written gonna fuck you now on his face and it couldn’t have been much clearer that returning home was waking up the dark Ifrit needs he’d suppressed for so long.
“Well, eventually Pho’s father found out that daughter dearest was making unauthorized forays into the upper realms.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t happy. At all. He rather suspected that Pho was looking for a way to gain power. It’s what most Ifrit princesses do, eventually: supplant their sires. Take their places at the courts. Rule, if they’re strong enough.”
“Was she?”
“Maybe. It didn’t matter. She was still very young and Papa sent a pack of Ifrits after us while we were exploring Shympolsk. Without any Ifrits of our own and just a couple of human servants, we didn’t stand much of a chance. He knew that.”
“But you survived.” And had somehow gone from inter-realm refugee to world-class thief.
“I did. I’m afraid I was too much of a rebel to give in and die quietly. While Papa’s Ifrits grabbed my poor princess, I fled. She must have got away from them long enough to open a Doorway into that temple of your damned Cat, but then they killed her.”
“She killed Guardians. And a mate.”
Lierr shrugged, unconcerned. “It didn’t matter. Not to me. She could have killed anyone she wanted, so long as they weren’t Ifrit. The laws are different here, love. Your kind are terribly expendable.”
“Right,” she said tightly. “So your Pho was dead and buried in the Guardians’ temple, and you were stuck in our world, with no way to open a Doorway back to Qaf.”
Lierr nodded. “Until I found you. Then I knew I finally had a chance. Sure, the necklace was locked up good and tight in Pho’s coffin and I couldn’t see any way of getting to it right away, but I knew that eventually I’d have my chance. I waited, learning everything I could about the temple, grooming you to be the perfect thief, the perfect mate the Cats could not resist. I knew you would do anything I asked to complete the hundredth theft and gain freedom for you and your sister. You would bring me the necklace, and I would have my ticket home.”
“But why did you want to get back to Qaf so badly?
You had everything you could have wanted in Shympolsk—wealth, women, power. Did you miss this place so much?”
“No.” He withdrew the moonstone from his pocket. “Not precisely.”
The Ifrit who stepped into the chamber answered the question for her. “He wanted revenge.”
“Papa?” she asked lightly.
“Precisely.” Dark satisfaction lit Lierr’s eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Nothing had prepared Miu for the brutal reality of two Ifrits fighting it out, tooth and nail. Mazhyk to mazhyk. Each blow landed wetly, with the horrific crunching of bone. The chamber was awash in dark black blood.
Now would be an excellent time to get the hell out of the chamber.
Out of Qaf.
“I’ve been watching you,” the Ifrit growled, flinging Lierr backward against the wall. “Every step you took, you bastard, I was there, I was watching.”
Lierr spat blood and lunged toward his opponent. “Fat lot of good it did you,” he sneered. “Lost your precious Pho, didn’t you?”
“And yo
u’ll lose your female here,” the newcomer snarled. “I sent a pack of Ifrits after her when she first laid hands on your necklace. Almost got her then, but instead, I’ll have her now.”
Miu edged away from the two Ifrits. This Ifrit was responsible for the deaths of Ebo and her men? Any sympathy she’d felt over the loss of his daughter died a rapid death. Papa jerked Lierr’s arm impossibly high behind Lierr’s back. With a wet popping sound, the bones dislocated and skin tore. Lierr howled, dropping the necklace to the floor.
“I’ll use your little pet,” the invader taunted. “Plow her hard while you watch. Not going to be much of her left after tonight.”
Way to bring her into this. Lierr growled and shook his arm back into place, diving for the other man’s chest with his clawed hands.
What had the other Ifrit said? Tonight? It was nighttime. Escape time.
The two whirlwinds collided before her in a rain of fire and sparks. Darting past them, she threw herself toward the necklace lying forgotten on the cavern floor. Just as her fingers closed over it, two large hands clamped brutally around her upper arms. Smoke blinded her. Where was Lierr? Something in the gloating look of Papa Ifrit’s face as he picked up the necklace from the floor told her that her former Master hadn’t fared too well. Deciding she needed to get away from this bloodbath, with or without the necklace, she lunged for the cavern entrance.
Outside, she found herself in a maze of tunnels and lava tubes that would have mystified anyone but a moon daemon. Drawing on her link to the moonlight outside, she began running for the surface as the chamber shook behind her.
***
In his Cat form, he was faster, so Jafar remained in it, ruthlessly pushing his body up the stone tunnel. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching his female. The Cat’s paws devoured the distance, wicked claws clicking ominously against the loose stones. His female. His mate.
Judging by the din coming from up ahead, it wasn’t going to be too difficult to find her.
If he were lucky, he’d kill two birds with one stone. He’d get his mate back—and he’d strike a devastating blow at the Ifrits. He didn’t fool himself: even though he still was a Guardian at heart, he’d broken ranks. He’d turned his back on Amun Ra and the other Guardians. They might welcome any destruction he wreaked on the Ifrits, but they wouldn’t welcome him back. In their place, he would have felt the same. He’d made his choice. And he hadn’t chosen them. He’d chosen Miu.
Pushing thoughts of his mate hurt, broken— alone—from his mind, he let the Cat’s drive consume him. The walls rushed past him in a furious blur. There. Up ahead. He’d spotted her. He fought back a sigh of relief and then wanted to roar. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t feel. Ever. He was a ruthless killer. A Guardian.
Well, it could rain Ifrits and he’d still want to pull the cursed female into his arms and rumble words of love and admonishment into her dirt-streaked hair. Fighting off Ifrits had left her distinctly the worse for wear. Long pieces of unruly hair stuck out of her haphazard braid and someone had dragged her face through the dust. Quite a bit of dust. She’d acquired a mud brown coating that made her look like a prickly Qevarian hedgehog.
Wait. His mind backed up, reeling. Mud was the least of his worries.
Words of admonishment. And love.
He understood discipline. And, hell, he was made for punishment. Heat sizzled through him as he considered the erotic possibilities of instilling just a modicum of sense into his mate. But love? The Cat chuffed in feral agreement and the man—well, the man knew when to admit he’d lost. Yeah. He closed his eyes briefly and wondered if his legs were really that wobbly. It would be embarrassing if he had to break off his pursuit and lean against the wall to catch his breath.
Love.
He loved his prickly, stubborn, gorgeous-inside-and-out femi. The Cat chuffed again and, this time, his mate finally looked behind her. Damn moon daemon eyes. They’d have picked him out even if his own eyes hadn’t been glowing with the change, not to mention all that pent-up passion burning its slow, insidious way through his veins.
Yeah, he had it bad for her.
“Kitty?” She half turned, skittering to a stop. She reached out one hand to steady herself against the walls of the tunnel.
His Cat chuffed happily and didn’t resist when he shifted.
“Moon daemon,” he grunted, just to watch her eyes light up. Yeah, he definitely had it bad.
She took a step toward him—she was coming, to him—and then there was another loud, earsplitting explosion from behind her. Somewhere, an Ifrit shrieked with even more force than a cave banshee, and the smooth sides of the tunnel rippled with the expanding power. His eyes noted the red, abraded skin of her bare neck, but even the lost necklace didn’t matter right now.
He wanted her to come to him. Willingly. More than anything he had ever wanted in his life.
“You did come for me,” she breathed. There was something in her eyes, something he wanted—no, needed—desperately to see. And then the undulating waves of power rolled over them, shaking the surfaces and sending her stumbling.
Putting on a burst of speed, he lunged forward, reaching for her.
She shrieked as the floor gave way beneath her, sending her plunging down into a nearby lava tube.
The Ifrits were fliers by nature. Jafar doubted they’d put much time into cave maintenance. Sprinting, he leapt over fallen boulders until he was perched on the dark edge of the place where Miu had disappeared. He couldn’t tolerate losing her. Not when he’d fought so hard to keep her.
Not when he needed her so much.
Distantly, he noted the whispers of love, fear, and rage pouring from him. Rough words, but hell, he’d never said he was a poet, had he? Although he knew that later, the raw sentiment would make him cringe.
“Damn female,” he muttered, followed by, “Love her to bits, not in bits.”
Flinging himself onto the edge, he peered down into the murk. The tube was a deep one, descending at a steep slant, with broken skeletons littering the floor. A floor that was a good forty yards beneath him. He swore.
“Did you mean it?” The voice came from his side; his gaze shot to the shadows and his heart stuttered foolishly. Miu clung to the side of the tube. One of the tube’s previous occupants hadn’t hit bottom at all, but had instead hit the side—and stuck. Miu hung there with him, clinging to the dead male’s arm like a burr. Wise woman.
Jafar spared another glance for the bottom of the tube. Still too far to drop safely, he decided, even if she weren’t plummeting downward out of control. He’d have to pull her up from where she was.
He only hoped the male who held her in his arms hadn’t been dead long enough to fossilize. Brittle bones weren’t going to be of much help here. He seemed to have been an Ifrit with bulky wings. He had probably died fairly recently: an unpleasant aroma reached Jafar’s nose and he was fairly certain the stench wasn’t coming from his mate.
Pulling off his cloak, Jafar dropped the leather over the edge of the tube. If she climbed up onto the male’s shoulders—and the corpse didn’t fall apart at her touch—she should be able to jump and catch hold of the material.
“Up,” he said, waggling the fabric above her. And then, “Yes, I meant it,” he grumbled. He did, too, but did she really want to discuss his feelings for her when she was dangling in midair over a pit of razor-sharp skeletons?
For a moment, he thought she might insist, but then she smiled, that small cat’s smile of hers that made his cock throb and stir. “Guess that means I can trust you.”
“Sure.” He didn’t bother telling her that love didn’t mean he would necessarily do what she wanted.
“Jump,” he said again.
“Better be sure, kitty.”
He was. It was the only way he could get her out of her current predicament.
Miu eyed the dead Ifrit. First time he’d seen her look squeamish. “Ick. Can’t really be worse than the snakes, though, can it?” Her expr
ession said she thought the Ifrit-dead might actually be the greater evil of the two.
Another explosion rocked the tube, sending him half over the edge. He dug his heels in and scooted backward. They were running out of time. They had to get out of here. Now. “Speed it up, femi.”
She glared at him, but started climbing. When her hand slapped the ground next to his head, he grasped her wrists and heaved.
Her body flew out of the tube. He caught a glimpse of wide, dark eyes as she sailed over his prone form; apparently, she’d been expecting a gentler landing because she grunted audibly when she landed. In a heap against the far wall. Well, if she wanted gentlemanly, she’d been running with the wrong crowd.
“Go,” he growled, not bothering with apologies. Instead, he turned toward the tunnel, where it pushed upward in a steady, calf-burning drive toward Qaf’s moon-blasted surface. They had big problems on their hands. The sounds of battle were escalating. It sounded as if the combatants were intent on blowing up all the tunnels and caverns in the surrounding area. He didn’t need his Cat to tell him that anyone with an inkling of self-preservation would be hightailing it for the surface and an exit point to another world.
Miu shoved a handful of honey-colored hair out of her face and felt carefully for the leather thong that was supposed to be containing the mass. As if they had all the time in the world and the floor weren’t shaking with bone-jarring force around them. She bounced slightly on her feet. “No,” she said. “No leaving. No skedaddling. Not in that direction.”
She’d obviously located the missing bit of leather because she jerked it toward the surface tunnel in unexpected punctuation. When she lifted her arms and began a hasty braid—maybe the noise was finally beginning to convince her that it was time to make a judicious exit—the thin silk of her tattered robe pulled over her chest. He was sick, he decided. All that pale, dusty skin gleaming through the tears had him fantasizing about pushing her back down to the floor of the lava tube. Mounting her right where they were and stroking some sort of carnal sense back into her.