by Amy Sumida
“You're here under Daxon's protection,” Desmond said before I could comment, and then he cast a smirk over his shoulder. “There's nothing to worry about.”
“Nobody here is worried,” Clay drawled. “I just don't want to file the paperwork if this goes sideways.”
“This is not going sideways!” I snapped. “What did I say about not starting any shit?”
“Yes, Ambassador,” Clay murmured.
“You're not frightened,” the cu-sidhe said to me with an impressed tone. “Even outnumbered seven to one, by some of the most powerful fairies on earth, you're not concerned. I don't smell even the barest whiff of fear on you.”
“Desmond, I have ridden dragons,” I said casually. “Through air and sea. I have been on a beisht kione hunt and been hunted by the Sluagh... twice.”
Desmond's eyes went round.
“Those yahoos don't even rate,” I drawled. “Besides, they're my fairies, not Daxon's. Every last one of them owes me fealty. They may not like me, but they wouldn't dare hurt me; it would bring the Sluagh down upon them. And they, unlike myself, wouldn't survive a run-in with the monsters of Fairy.”
“Who the fuck are you, woman?” Desmond whispered in awe.
“Right now, I'm Ambassador Seren Firethorn,” I said. “But give me a reason, and I'll be your queen.”
“I told you; she's amazing.” Daxon leaned in an open doorway at the end of the hallway, smirking at me.
He looked amazing; his hair slicked back from his striking features, and his body shown off to its best advantage in a snug, black T-shirt, and loose jeans. More of his tattoos were revealed by the shirt, and I stared at the intricate designs, wondering if they were enchanted like that seelie's were... and who his artist was.
“Thank you, Desmond; I'll take it from here.” Daxon kept his hypnotic stare on me.
“Sure thing,” Desmond said and headed past us. When he got even with me, he gave me a little smile. “You're just what he needs, but try not to be too hard on him, Your Majesty.”
Before I could say anything, Desmond was gone and Daxon was at my side, taking my hand and leading me into his laboratory.
“Please come in, everyone,” Daxon graciously welcomed us as he led the way. “I have the equipment ready.”
He took me to the middle of the massive room. There were numerous work areas spaced around us, but this central table was the largest and was currently the most illuminated. The rest of them sat in shadows like outcasts. Daxon pulled a padded chair out for me, and as I sat, he kissed my hand.
“I dreamed of you last night,” he whispered to me. “Another first for me. I never dream of my lovers.”
“I'm not your lover,” I whispered back.
“Not yet.” He turned away before I could argue. “Who has the bomb remains?”
“I'm Councilman Lance Teagan,” Lance held his hand out first.
“Daxon Tromlaighe,” Dax said as he shook it politely.
“We merely drilled into the device.” Lance handed the case to Daxon. “It's still mostly intact.”
“Wonderful.” Daxon placed the case on the table before me, sliding a smile in my direction before he undid the clasp.
“We analyzed the glass dust and found the remnants of a spell,” Lance went on eagerly. “I was hoping you would tell me which one you used.”
“Lance is a sci-psych,” I explained to Dax. “He's curious on a scientific level.”
“Ah.” Daxon's eyes strayed to the amethyst lock amid my dark hair. “Curiosity killed the scientist.”
“The cat, actually,” Lance huffed. “You're not going to tell me what ward you used?”
“It's a trade secret, I'm afraid.” Dax smirked. Then he got a good look at the glass sphere, cradled carefully within the case. “Oh, hello, darling.” He picked up the ball and turned it in the light. “Yes, there it is.”
He rubbed his finger in a slight indention on the glass and then took it over to a machine. He aligned the indent with an illuminated panel in the base of the machine, and then set the globe on a collection of spokes which poked out above the panel. It held the ball perfectly. The machine whirred to life, and a number popped up on a screen in front. My Guard gathered behind me as we watched Dax work. Daxon removed the sphere and replaced it in the case. With precise movements, he closed the case, slid it over to Lance, and then reached for a leather-bound journal on the table in front of me.
Daxon angled his body so that his chest pressed into my shoulder as he reached for the book. I grimaced at his obvious ploy as he straightened. Dax slid into the seat beside mine and flipped open the book, searching through a list of names and numbers. Finally, he tapped the page.
“I sold that bomb to Ivan Sokolov,” Daxon said, “along with fourteen other units.”
“He bought fifteen of those things?” I growled.
“How many have you sold in total?” Lance added.
“Yes”—Dax nodded to me—“and I ain't saying,” he said to Lance.
“Daxon.” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You have no right to ask me for that information,” he said smoothly. “This is business. I just gave you the man's name, that alone will lose me customers. I refuse to tell you how much product I move.”
Lance exchanged a heavy look with me as the extinguishers tensed.
“He's right,” I said to them with annoyance. “Daxon is helping us; we can't ask him to divulge information on legal sales, even if we don't approve of them.”
“But—” Lance huffed.
“At this point, it's legal, Councilman,” I reminded him. “What isn't legal is selling fairy-struck humans into slavery. Let's focus on that for now.” I turned back to Dax. “Do you know where I can find this Sokolov?”
“No.” Daxon held up his hand when I began to speak. “But I will. I put the word out that I have more product to move. There will be an auction tonight at Enchantments.”
“Auction?” I lifted my brows.
“Magic is a hot commodity.” Daxon smirked. “And magical items can only be made in small batches. They go to the highest bidder.”
“And that explains the mansion,” Jack muttered.
“I do all right,” Daxon agreed. “But it's exhausting, and this isn't my only source of income. I have several businesses to maintain.”
“Do you have a guest list for this event?” I asked Daxon.
“I have some confirmations,” he admitted. “Sokolov is one of them.”
“Wonderful. What time should we arrive?” I asked.
“You will be my date, but they”—Daxon waved his hand toward the others—“will have to run their stakeout outside my club. I won't have them interfering with my business.”
“Daxon,” I growled.
“You know it's a reasonable condition,” he said evenly. “And don't go apprehending him in the area either.”
“We weren't planning on it,” Ralph countered. “We want to know where this guy lives.”
“That's true,” I agreed. “We'll need to follow him and search his home. This is a lead, not a contract.”
“If we do find him guilty of breaking the truce,” Clay asked me, “do we hand the human over to the Human Council or the Wild Hunt?”
“Interesting question.” Daxon looked at me with theatrically widened eyes. “Whatever shall they do, Ambassador?”
“We report it to the Fairy Council, and let them decide whether it requires Hunt intervention. If they wish to issue a warrant of execution, that's their right.”
Surprisingly enough, everyone in the room seemed okay with that. Fair is fair, after all, and it was this human's men who had cast the bombs at the extinguishers. So, they weren't all that worried about his welfare.
“All right, let's head back and set up surveillance points around the club,” I said. “We'll need to keep those areas clear for tonight, so we'll set some look-away charms to hold key locations.”
“They can go ahead and do that, but you're staying with me,” Daxon
said.
“Excuse me?”
“Don't forget our agreement, Seren,” Daxon fixed his stare on me.
The room went quiet.
“I don't recall hanging out with you being a part of it,” I snarled.
“You agreed to allow me to show you my businesses,” he reminded me. “I intend to give you a tour.”
“Then we intend to stay with our princess,” Conri said.
“Two of you,” Daxon said. “I'm not driving a fucking van around LA.”
“That's a valid point,” I said to my Guard. “Torquil and Ainsley, you two stay, the rest of you go with the extinguishers and the Councilman, and help them reserve those surveillance spots.”
“Torquil and Ainsley?” Conri whined. “I think I should stay, Your Highness.” Conri shot a suspicious glance at Dax.
“You know LA,” I pointed out to Conri. “I need you with the others. You'll be the best scout we have, and you'll be driving later.”
He grimaced but nodded.
“Now!” I snapped, and everyone bustled out of the room. All except for Ainsley and Torquil, who waited at attention. “You two, go guard the door outside; I need to talk to Mr. Tromlaighe alone.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” My two remaining guards followed the others out and shut the doors behind them.
I turned to glare at Daxon.
“I didn't trick you.” He held up his hands. “If you'll recall, I offered to help you in exchange for a chance to prove myself, and my other condition made it clear that this is personal. I don't give a shit about the Councils, Seren; I'm doing this to prove myself to you. Don't stand here and act as if you don't know that.”
“Fair enough.” I sighed. “You've done what you said you would. The least I can do is hold up my end.”
“Really?” He sat back in his chair in surprise.
“You expected me to cheat you?” I countered.
“No; I expected you to put up a fight.”
“It's just a tour of your businesses.” I shrugged. “What exactly should I be protesting?”
“Ah, that's more like it; evasive maneuvering, even after I've made my intentions clear.” He chuckled. “Did you send Lord Killian home?”
“He went back to Oregon,” I admitted. “He's working the case from there.”
“Good girl,” Dax purred as he leaned in closer.
“Don't pull that shit with me.” I pushed him away with my pointer finger. “I'm not playing 'Fifty Shades of Fucked Up' with you.”
“Fifty Shades,” he huffed and rolled his eyes. “What drivel. S&M is not about punishment. Why, in all the realms, would I want to punish you?”
“Oh, please, go on; explain it to me. Tell me why you like submissive women,” I shot back.
“Because it takes trust to allow someone to bind you,” Daxon said calmly. “To give up your freedom, however temporary, to another person is to completely trust them, and that is a connection beyond the merging of flesh.”
“I don't need a man to tie me up to connect with him,” I scoffed. “If you're inside me, I trust you, and that should be enough.”
“When you have sex with someone, you can still defend yourself.” He got up and moved to stand before me. “You don't feel vulnerable or powerless.”
“And you need a woman to feel powerless to connect with her?”
“No; I need her to feel powerless so that I can feel her faith in me,” he corrected.
“Like a god?” I smirked.
“Yes,” he purred. “In those moments, I feel like a god. I am a god to that woman. Her life is in my hands, and she has willingly put it there. That feeling is divine—it's sacred—but so is her trust, and that makes her a goddess to me.”
“Wow; you really believe all this shit, don't you?” I asked derisively. “I don't care if you call me a goddess, I don't do submissive; I'm not that girl.”
“I know,” he relented. “We'll save the argument on bondage for another time. For the moment, please forgive my poor choice of words. I'm trying to get past years of ingrained behavior. Some things have become automatic for me.”
“Like calling a grown woman a 'good girl?'” I lifted a brow. “You're gonna knock that shit off right now, or I'm gonna knock you on your ass again; this time in real life.”
“Promises, promises,” he murmured.
“Daxon!” I snapped.
“All right; I see how you would find it demeaning,” he admitted. “But I swear to you, there's freedom in surrendering, Seren. It's an act, a passion play. I only have the power you give me.”
“Control is about making someone want to kneel?”
“Exactly.” He smiled at my reference to our dream. “In business, I seduce my customers just as I might seduce a lover. I offer them what they want, then hold it just out of reach. It's the reaching that makes something worthwhile. And it also puts me in a position of power.”
“You want me to stretch for you?” I chuckled.
“Oh, yes,” he murmured, “I'd like that very much. But you've changed the rules, and now I must do some stretching too, it seems.”
“Shall I call you a good boy?” I challenged.
“Do it, and our relationship will become about punishment,” he huffed.
“So, you understand why I don't want to play your game.”
“Don't tell me that you've never played such games before,” he countered.
I thought back to Killian's handcuffs and blushed. Daxon burst into laughter.
“Let me guess,” he murmured, “you were on top?”
“Never mind my sex life,” I growled as I pointed in his face. “It won't be something you'll be involved in.”
“You keep saying that”—Daxon's eyes trailed over my face and settled on my throat—“but your pulse is fluttering, and we both know it's not from fear.”
“Are we going on this tour, or what?”
Daxon laughed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Your wish is my command.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Daxon had one of his goons—excuse me—one of his employees drive us around LA in a limo while we sat in the back and drank champagne. It was so bougie that I was a bit uncomfortable, but not so much as my guardsmen. Ainsley and Torquil sat across from us—not drinking champagne—looking awkward. They stared out the windows, scanning for trouble, but I think it was mainly so they didn't have to look at Daxon and me.
Daxon was not being subtle. I don't know why I'd ever thought he would be. I was the one who didn't want to make our attraction known, not him. He had no problem gushing over how beautiful the streak in my hair was or how my lips were made for kissing... all in front of anyone who happened to be nearby. Daxon had no shame and seemed intent on making me feel some.
I was infinitely glad that I hadn't brought Conri.
“Is this a vet clinic?” I asked as we pulled into the parking lot of a place called The Call of the Wild.
“What gave it away?” Daxon asked. “Was it the people walking in with their pets or the sign that says 'Veterinary Clinic?'”
“You're an ass.” I grimaced at him. “And you just lost cool points.”
“Admit that you're shocked, and we can be a pair of asses together,” he said unrepentantly. “Fine asses, no less.”
“I'm shocked,” I grudgingly admitted. “This is not the type of business I imagined you owning.”
“Would you like to go in and meet the doctors?” Daxon offered. “Make sure this place is reputable? It could be a front.”
“No, I can see that it's an actual veterinary clinic,” I huffed. “You don't have to rub it in.”
“Are your animal physicians humans or fairies?” Ainsley asked.
“All of my employees are fey,” Daxon said proudly. “I started these businesses to give fairies jobs. They come here thinking that it will be like Fairy; that they can just live off the land. It can be a rude awakening and very disorienting for them. Most don't have any idea of where to even begin to look
for work. I would find fairies living in alleys, scrounging for food with stray animals. I took a few in and gave them work, but not everyone is suited for the nightclub life. So, I used my profits to open new businesses that were tailored to the talents of the displaced fairies. It worked out to everyone's benefit.”
“Displaced?” I latched onto the word because the rest of his speech was making my stomach turn. “You make them sound like refugees.”
“I've heard that you visited the Seelie and Unseelie Courts before your kings claimed them.” Daxon gave me a hard look. “Can you dispute my choice of words?”
I sighed deeply. Wasn't this exactly what I'd been thinking?
“You're right,” I whispered. “The courts were dangerous places, but they were only two castles in an entire world. Fairies can live anywhere they choose.”
“Yes, they can,” his voice turned grim. “But no matter where they went, they were always at the beck and call of their monarch. For most of them, Earth was their only choice.”
“When my mother took me to Twilight, I was relieved,” Torquil said softly.
I looked over at him in shock. Torquil wasn't one to talk about himself, and for him to open up now, in front of Daxon, was even more surprising.
“I as well,” Ainsley added. “If I hadn't been taken to Twilight, I would have fled Fairy entirely. You saw the worst of it, Princess, you know. And you also know that we're not all like that. Most fairies are good people, who just want to live peacefully. But fairy courts are influenced by their rulers; an evil king can spread his malice to his court, and even good men turn into monsters. Some men fled, not because the evil scared them, but because it excited them.”