Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  I wasn’t certain what the protocol was for this sort of thing, but having normally dressed escorts seemed much better than a couple of ultra-conspicuous King’s Guards. Where’s my PA when I need him? I lamented.

  As if sensing my dilemma, Boklym reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Golpim and his partner, Jykmic, who is waiting in the main foyer, are employed by a company my family has used for ages. You will be well protected, and no one will have any idea you are famous.”

  He was right; it would be better not to have people staring. I explained to the King’s Guards assigned to protect me that Boklym would provide the security. They had to run it by their superiors, who no doubt checked that Golpim and Jykmic were up to the task, before agreeing to the new arrangements.

  Not being the focus of attention was a welcome relief. The restaurant Boklym chose reminded me of my favorite restaurant in Tucson, a dive so ramshackle no one in their right mind would venture inside without a prior recommendation from a trusted friend. The comparison between Poncho’s and the joint we sat in didn’t end with its sketchy façade; while the menu selections couldn’t have been more different, the food was just as delicious. Golpim and Jykmic stayed close but unobtrusive, and overall, Boklym was easy to talk to.

  “I hope you didn’t mind the ambiance, or lack thereof,” he joked as we got up to leave.

  “It’s a little late to be asking that now,” I teased back. “But don’t worry, I loved it.”

  He glanced down at me and nodded. “I thought you might.”

  As the restaurant was only half a mile or so from the palace, we hadn’t bothered with a car or a marqizobaz. Engaged in conversation, I hadn’t paid much attention to our route back, but when Boklym stopped, we weren’t in front of the palace.

  I regarded the three-story, stucco and brick row house, and then peered at Boklym. “What’s this?”

  “My home,” he replied, placing his hand casually on my back. “It was only slightly out of the way, and I wanted you to see it.”

  The house was attractive, but nothing spectacular enough to warrant a detour. I didn’t recall, “showing one’s residence,” as one of the quaint Jjestrian customs Pixie discussed, but then again, I hadn’t really memorized the extensive list. Not knowing the proper response, I settled for a simple, “Uh, it seems nice.”

  I must not have masked my bewilderment very well, because he said with a grin, “I thought you might like to see how normal Courso live.”

  “What, everyone doesn’t have a hundred guest bedrooms?”

  “It does tend to skew one’s perception.” He placed one hand lightly on my shoulder and gestured expansively at his well-kept abode with the other. “Care to take a look?”

  He had a point. The only residences I’d seen in Courso were palaces, and with my chaperones in tow, I didn’t have to worry about what the neighbors might think. “Sure, why not?”

  As he unlocked the front door, he let me go ahead while he conferred with Golpim and Jykmic. I paid no attention to them, however, as I was mesmerized by the stately entryway. Everything was covered in beautiful, richly stained wood: the walls, the floors, even the beams on the ceiling.

  Boklym came and stood beside me. “It’s like a mini English country manor,” I observed.

  “It is a bit staid for my taste, but the craftsmanship is of such quality, I haven’t had the nerve to redecorate.”

  Stairs led from the entryway up to the second floor, where the dark décor continued with the addition of some upholstered furniture. He was right; this was not what I expected from the home of a bachelor.

  “You mentioned your love of reading at dinner. I thought you might appreciate this.” Boklym guided me down a hall and into a large library. Along three walls, built-in bookshelves climbed from floor to ceiling, so high, a rolling ladder provided access to the top rows. I pulled out one of the many leather-bound tomes resting at my eye level and flipped through the pages. It had an oddly pleasant scent, sort of a mix of vanilla and wild mushrooms.

  “I read somewhere that now that electronic readers are so popular, fragrances are being manufactured that mimic the ‘old book smell’ people crave,” I remarked, inhaling the heady aroma.

  “Humans are curious creatures. Why not just read a real book?”

  “Got me,” I said, shrugging. “Although new books don’t have the proper bouquet, either.”

  I handed the volume back to him, and he carefully slid it into its rightful spot. “I, for one, find recent publications somewhat lacking,” Boklym reflected. “There is nothing like the classics.”

  In my experience, some of the old, human literary staples didn’t stand the test of time. I’d rip my eyeballs out of my head rather than have to re-read The Odyssey or Beowulf.

  He walked across the room to a cart, loaded with crystal decanters and glasses. “Care for a brandy?”

  “No thanks, I think I’ve reached my limit.” I hadn’t had all that much to drink, but after my wine-induced mental meltdown earlier in the afternoon, I figured I should quit while I was ahead.

  “Are you sure? It is made from grapes found only in this region, distilled in copper and aged in oak casks for at least ten years.”

  I was sure, but one thing Pixie drummed into my head was how, in Jjestri, it was considered impolite to refuse an after-dinner drink. “Okay, maybe just a small one.” Pixie never specified about having to finish it.

  He handed me a snifter, and I took a tentative swallow. The taste wasn’t terrible, but it was rather sweet and not something I’d make a habit of drinking. In keeping with Pixie’s lessons on good manners, I nodded affably and swirled the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass as if I was a pro at guzzling the stuff.

  Boklym walked me through the rest of the rooms, still sipping his brandy, and often resting his free hand on my back while pointing out some piece of artwork or architectural design. At first, it made me uncomfortable—I’d never been a fan of random touching from people I barely know—but it seemed like such a natural gesture, I hardly noticed it after a while.

  When we made it back to the library, I realized I’d drained my snifter dry. The slip-up surprised me; I had no recollection of drinking other than the first sip. My brain felt a little fuzzy, too, and I regretted not sticking to my original plan for moderation. I glanced around, trying to clear my head, when it occurred to me I hadn’t seen my bodyguards in a while.

  “Where are Golpim and Jykmic?”

  “Don’t worry, they are waiting outside,” he answered, closing the distance between us.

  My initial reaction when he gently cupped my face was oddly detached, like I was watching him caressing someone else. But when he pressed his lips to mine, I wondered why he waited so long. Passion ripped past the connection between our mouths and shot through every inch of my flesh. It was all so perfect, so inevitable, and so right.

  “Ah, carisa,” he moaned into the ever-deepening kiss.

  Wait, what? His use of Alex’s endearment brought me back to reality, and I pushed against his chest. “Stop that,” I shouted.

  Boklym’s eyes were heavy lidded, his smile seductive and full of promise. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”

  Much as I hated to admit it, he was right; for a second there, I was ready to rip off my clothes and jump his bones. Confusion overwhelmed me. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m in love with Alex.

  I tried to make sense of the situation, but Boklym reached out and stroked my cheek. Suddenly, all I could think of was him yanking down my pants and bending me over the bar cart.

  Get a grip, Hailey, I thought frantically, but my self-scolding only made me consider how nice it might be to get a grip on the part of Boklym’s anatomy that was currently pressing against my hip. I slapped both his hand and my traitorous fantasies away and took a few steps back.

  His previously lust-filled eyes narrowed. At first, I thought he was baffled by my erratic behavior, but as I studied his expression, he seemed
more perturbed than bewildered. The increased distance between us helped to clear my libidinous haze, and the pieces fell into place.

  “Did you put something in my brandy?” I demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like a date-rape drug?”

  “Come now, Hailey, why would I do that?”

  He had a point. I wasn’t woozy or unconscious; I just had an inexplicable urge to have sex with him. I thought back on everything that happened, realizing every time he touched me, I did things I normally wouldn’t do. Going into his house, drinking the entire glass of booze, hell, even agreeing to let the King’s Guards stay home. That didn’t make any sense at all. Unless…

  “You fucking son of a bitch, you slipped me a magical aphrodisiac!”

  Boklym blinked. “I did no such thing.”

  His denial was half-hearted at best, or maybe I was simply seeing him clearly for the first time. The tingling in my fingertips forewarned my building rage, but as much as I wanted to torch his shifty ass, I couldn’t destroy all the books. They played no part in his trickery and should not have to suffer for it.

  To tamp down the impending arcane fireworks, I imagined a bull Klydilap feeding himself walnuts off the ground using his gigantic pecker. Calmed by the amusing mental picture, I strode purposefully toward Boklym. His eyes lit up as I unzipped his pants and trailed my fingers down his erection. The contented sigh quickly gave way to a wordless, gaping-mouthed moan as I clamped onto his nuts and squeezed until my hand cramped up.

  As I slammed the front door behind me, I could still hear him retching upstairs.

  11

  Golpim and Jykmic were nowhere to be found when I stormed out of the house. Boklym probably told them to get lost, that fucking bastard. I almost went back in to smack him around some more, fantasizing about all the damage I could do to an incapacitated asshole with Dyzopga on my finger.

  Instead, I decided I should get back to the palace. I managed to find my way without getting lost, and sidestepped the King’s Guard’s questions about why I came back alone by claiming I’d dismissed the private muscle before reaching the gate. I had no patience for explaining what really happened to a bunch of strangers. Instead, eager to share the sordid details with someone, I pounded on Tannis’ door.

  I clearly woke her up, yet despite slightly rumpled hair and no makeup, she still looked way better than I ever could. Much like my feelings for Rachel, if I didn’t love her so much, I’d really hate her.

  “Are you all right?” she inquired, yawning. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

  “Son of a fucking goddamn bitch,” I spat, sweeping past her into the room. We’d left the restaurant just after ten, and the tour of the asshole’s house couldn’t have taken more than an hour. How the hell had I lost a couple of hours?

  I collapsed onto the sofa and told her everything.

  When I finished, Tannis shook her head. “He seemed like such a nice guy.”

  She’d get no argument from me. “I know, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what his game was. Or why he’d use what Alex calls me.”

  “That was probably just a coincidence or a lucky guess; carisa is a common term of endearment here. But good thing he did; that’s what jolted you back to reality. Whatever his intent,” she added, reaching for the intra-palace communication device, “you have to report this.”

  I grabbed her hand. “How am I going to prove it? Is there some forensic test for unauthorized magical doping?” I already knew the answer to that; the effects had already worn off and absent any witness to the crime, it was my word against his.

  “No one will question your side of the story,” she argued, but she moved away from the phone.

  I let out a sigh. “Maybe, but I already feel like enough of an idiot. I don’t need anyone else knowing about it. Besides, thanks to Sebastian’s training, I squished Boklym’s balls so bad, he may never walk normally again.”

  Tannis nodded. “Or father children. Given his obviously poor character, that in itself could be a boon for our species,” she added with thoughtful reflection. “I hope he seeks out a healer and has to explain why his testicles got popped like cells of bubble wrap.”

  “Tannis, I had no idea you could be so vindictive.”

  “You aren’t the only one who learned useful things from Sebastian.”

  As gripping as my night’s events were, both literally and figuratively, Tannis was barely able to keep her eyes open. With a promise to meet again when the sun was up, I returned to my suite, cleansed away any lingering traces of Boklym’s chicanery with a long, hot shower, and settled into bed. I still couldn’t quite fathom what he hoped to gain by manipulating me into a sexual encounter. The more I tried to make sense of it, the less sense it made. However, if he just wanted to be able to say he bagged the future queen of Alenquai, what I did to his bags was likely enough of a punishment.

  Once I finally drifted to sleep, strange, fleeting images zipped through my subconscious. Generally, my dreams adhered to a plotline. Outlandish and convoluted ones to be sure, but they usually had a beginning, middle, and an end. The fact that I realized the content of my nocturnal imagination seemed scattered was indicative of how bizarre the barrage of rapid-fire shorts truly were.

  Around four a.m., I awoke, certain I sensed someone in the room. Adrenaline surged through me, and I feared the sound of my heart thumping like a bass drum would tip off my visitor that I was aware of his presence. I lay on my back, and while it was mostly dark, moonlight cast dim, fluttering shadows of the tree outside the window on the ceiling above my bed.

  Wonderful. Now I’m imagining rustling leaves are some creeper. I rolled to my side and punched the feather pillow to both let out some frustration and better accommodate my delusion-laden head.

  I finally gave up as dawn broke. Between the sunlight streaming into the room and the damned, overly chipper sparrows, going back to sleep was pointless. The cool, early morning air was perfect for a form-bend, so after writing a short note to Pixie and leaving a robe and a snack on the balcony, I stripped off my tank top and shorts and transformed. My joyous, avian alarm clocks scattered from the trees as I took flight, undoubtedly freaked out they hadn’t previously detected a hawk in the area. Take that, you noisy bastards! I thought gleefully, making another pass around the courtyard to ensure no bird was left unterrified.

  Breakfast consisted of a plump, tawny squirrel, and I located a small stream about ten miles east where I tried my wing at catching a trout. Like most of my previous attempts at fishing, I failed spectacularly, succeeding only in drenching myself and bruising my pride. Once my feathers dried, I soared around for a bit, and then returned to the palace to change back. Wrapping myself in the robe, I scarfed down the opened granola bar I’d left on the table. No sense wasting time and energy on peeling off the wrapper when I needed calories, fast.

  My hunger assuaged for the moment, I squeezed for Myrjix. I hoped it wasn’t too early; she normally delivered a tray around nine, but the growl in my stomach convinced me I’d never make it for another hour.

  She brought food within minutes, grinning at me as I devoured two muffins and a mug of coffee before she had a chance to unroll the silverware.

  “You are an angel,” I moaned, slathering a warm, buttermilk biscuit with fruit preserves. “You got this here fast.”

  “Queen Sylzinia saw you transform while taking her daily walk. She had someone notify me that you might need sustenance when you returned.”

  “That was nice of her.” I poured another cup to wash down the flaky piece of heaven I ate in two sloppy bites. “I’m sorry you had to get up so early. I should do a better job of hoarding food before I bend.”

  “Not a problem. I’m always up before the sun. Mornings are my most productive time.”

  “I’m completely the opposite. I usually have to tape my eyelids open before ten.”

  Myrjix grinned. “More like before noon. I will go down and order yo
ur eggs; I wanted to wait until I was certain you were back before I had the chef prepare them,” she explained, surveying the now mostly empty tray. “Would you like more pastries?”

  I considered it, but feared I’d reached my carb load one biscuit back. “No thanks, just the eggs, please.”

  As she opened the door to leave, Pixie practically ran her over.

  “We have an issue,” he blurted, ignoring Myrjix completely.

  “What now? Did I wear the wrong color shirt or not address some official with due deference?”

  “If only it was that trivial,” he huffed. “Look.”

  Pixie thrust a newspaper-like periodical under my nose. I could read the name—Porifitnax Siliponj, which meant Whisper Daily—scrawled in big letters across the top, but beyond that, I was going to need a translator. I glanced up at him for guidance.

  “At the bottom,” he snapped, pointing to a series of small photos.

  Just as the old adage says, a picture was worth a thousand words. In this case, most of them beginning with “f” and ending with “uck.” The first frame showed Boklym and me at the restaurant; I looked serious and he had his hand over mine. I remembered the moment; we were discussing Keem’s almost-successful takeover of Courso, and he patted my hand in an innocent, sympathetic gesture. The second was one of us entering his house, and the last one depicted me storming out. Golpim and Jykmic weren’t visible in any of the photos.

  “My dinner plans are important enough for the front page of the local paper?”

  “It is not your eating arrangements that are of interest,” he revealed, grabbing the pages from my hands. “And it’s not a Jjestrian publication. This is the best-selling gossip magazine in Alenquai.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “The accompanying article claims you were in his home—alone—for a number of hours, and when observed exiting, you had flushed cheeks and the look of a woman well satisfied,” Pixie continued.