Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1

by Redford, Jodi

  “Don’t get excited. My plan might not work.”

  “It will.” She nodded vigorously. “You’re a master thief. A stupid Gromache toad can’t outwit you.”

  The fingers wrapped around her waist tightened. “No one’s showed such faith in me before.”

  She found his admission telling, and somewhat sad. Before she could think of anything to say, Dash cleared his throat.

  “See that branch over there?”

  Twisting her head, she followed the point of his finger to the large branch forking from a tree a few feet to the right of them.

  “It’s halfway between us and the ground.”

  When she realized what he was implying, she frowned. “Um…we have one small problem. How will we get out of the snare and reach it?”

  “Magic, and natural gravity.”

  She stilled against him. “Your magic is blocked.”

  “You could disable the collar.”

  A shaky breath snaked from her lips. “Nalia would kill me.”

  “You’ll die anyway trapped in this snare. I imagine it’ll be a slow, torturous death.”

  Mentally conjuring that unpleasant image, she swallowed. “Nalia’s punishment will be no quicker, or less torturous.”

  Dash cupped her chin and tilted it. The angle allowed her to see his face. Challenge swirled in the depths of his caramel irises. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

  “I’m not sure I remember the code.”

  He smiled grimly. “Think real hard.”

  “We have another problem.” She squirmed onto her elbow, partially balancing her weight against him. “The blocking mechanism is located on the collar’s back panel. How the hell am I going to reach it?”

  “Simple. You need to flip over.”

  She stared at him. “Yeah, right. While I’m at it, why don’t I bend into a pretzel and hop around on one leg?”

  His smile inched into the territory of a wicked grin. “We’ll save that position for a better time and place.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. Averting her eyes, she jutted her elbow sideways. Dash grunted and rubbed his side. “Good thing my kidneys came as a matching set.”

  “There’s not enough room for me to flip over.”

  Dash’s hand slipped along the small of her back. “Move your hip. Like this.” His fingers guided her up on one side. “Now lean back and tuck your arm here.”

  “I can’t see. How am I supposed to know where you’re talking about? Holy crap.” She panicked when the snare dipped precariously.

  “Relax and follow my lead.”

  Every muscle in her body shook from strain and tightly strung nerves. She lifted her arm and his hand settled at the crook of her elbow, dragging it up and over his head. He twisted her body until her leg shifted to the other side of his knee. Now she almost straddled his lap. Not the most comfortable or dignified position, but it provided better access to the collar.

  She settled her hand on his thickly muscled shoulder. “Duck your head.”

  He did—right into her breasts. “I imagine you’re enjoying this,” she said dryly.

  “Immensely.”

  Rolling her eyes at his muffled response, she pushed the neck of his shirt down and studied the interlocking metal teeth securing the collar. Just above those, four tiny buttons controlled the settings.

  I need someone my sly thief won’t easily outfox. Mara’s fingers hovered over the buttons while Nalia’s voice taunted inside her head. Was she ten kinds of fool for even contemplating this? Probably.

  Her fingers descended the same instant Dash jerked his head back. He slanted her a wary look. “There’s no chance I’ll self-destruct if you accidentally enter the wrong code is there?”

  She shook her head and he exhaled in relief. “But you’re the first to wear this model. Might want to keep your fingers crossed.” Her hand replanted his face in her chest before he balked further. Taking a deep breath, she punched in what she prayed was the correct sequence of codes. Three depressions on the first button, two on the third, and three on the fourth. Who the hell knew what the second button did. Blow up the planet? She wouldn’t put it past Nalia.

  Fingers trembling, she pushed Dash away and checked the front of the collar. No lights flashed.

  “Did it work?”

  She nodded. “Now what?”

  “I do my thing. But first we get something out of the way.” His hand slipped behind her head and pulled her down. The lips haunting her dreams these last several nights slanted over hers, warm and coaxing. Gasping, she yielded.

  Wet swirling tongues. An endless spiral of need and craving. Desire exploding.

  Panting, she pulled back, her breath still mingling with Dash’s. How could a kiss leave a person so wrung out? She licked her lips and tasted the spicy essence of him. “What was that for?”

  “If this plan backfires, I’m dying with a smile on my face.”

  No disputing that logic.

  He released her head and she scooted over best she could while he struggled into an awkward squat. Clenching her fists, she eyed him nervously. She distrusted magic to the depths of her soul. And that was on a good day. Trusting it under these conditions? She’d rather sign over the deed to her life to the lovely sisters of fate.

  A wind gust rocked the snare and she made the mistake of looking down. Then again, fate is highly overrated. Snapping her head around, she stared at Dash. His eyes were closed but his lips moved in silent conversation. Either he was talking to himself or it was part of his magic ritual.

  Intense heat radiated from him. It breached her clothing and soaked through her pores. She gulped and scooted back a fraction. “What’s happening?”

  He didn’t answer, merely grasped her wrists and continued mumbling his private discourse.

  They’re tricksters. Magic is the work of devils. Never forget. Gideon’s voice pounded in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. Swallowing hard again, she tried breaking free of Dash’s grip.

  His eyes opened. Blackness nearly overtook his irises. “Stay with me.”

  “Damn it, I don’t like this—” A scream ripped from her when a brilliant, crackling light snapped around their invisible cage. Suddenly no boundary separated them from thin air and they plummeted in a deadly freefall.

  She looked down. Gods, what moron did that when the ground raced to meet your body at exorbitant speed? A flash of brown appeared below. The tree branch. Too quick, it disappeared from view.

  “Dash.” Her terrified scream scratched her throat raw. One of her wrists slipped from his grip and she clawed the air. A jarring impact hit her. For a dizzying moment she swore she’d hit terra firma and what she felt was the splintering of every bone in her body. Then she realized it was only her shoulder joint burning with pain.

  Straining her neck, she stared up at Dash. His lips peeling back in a grimace, he tightened his single-handed grip on her wrist and struggled to maintain a choke hold on the tree branch with his other arm. He let out an agonized roar.

  “If you drop me, I’m going to be so pissed.”

  Her threat succeeded in earning a heroic display of his brawn power. With a growl befitting a Frittona lion, he anchored the branch between his biceps and forearm before tugging her upward. A thick clump of leaves came within grasp and she plowed her free hand through them until rough bark scraped her fingernails. Breathless with relief, she hooked an arm around the tree branch and hefted her body on top of it. Her wrenched shoulder protested, but at least she was alive.

  Dash swung his legs and straddled the branch between his muscled thighs. He inched his way towards her, his biceps bulging and animalistic grunts rasping from his chest. She didn’t know which turned her on more—her near brush with death or the sheer machismo of him. Either way, she was obviously warped beyond belief.

  He reached her and gave an upside-down grin. Or maybe it just looked upside down because of his position. “What you say we blow this tree and catch ourselves an ugly-ass toad?
”

  The crunch of their footsteps broke the forest’s eerie silence. Dash’s fingers closed around hers. “Stick close. We don’t want to end up in any more Gromache snares.”

  He’d get no argument from her. No way did she want to repeat the last half-hour’s funfest. She picked a leaf from her hair and eyed the now-useless collar around his neck. “Are you going to use your magic to track the Gromache down?”

  “No need. Just follow your nose.”

  Frowning, she sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “Yet.” Dash glanced at the top of her head. He untangled their fingers and plucked something from her hair. It turned out to be another leaf. He stroked his thumb over its green, bumpy surface. “Things got pretty intense up in the snare.”

  Her mind tracked back to the feel of his tongue inside her mouth and she tripped over her foot. Embarrassed, she hugged her chest and kept her attention riveted on the ground. “Umm, about that…”

  “You’re leery of magic.”

  She blinked and snapped her head up. “Pardon?”

  “Don’t bother denying it.” Dash crumbled the leaf in his fist. “At one point, your fear almost counteracted my magic. I had to work doubly hard to break through its block.”

  Part of her was thankful she didn’t have to scrape together an excuse for returning his kiss like a desperate, sex-starved maniac.

  “Want to fill in the blanks and tell me what provoked your fear?”

  Then again, sounding like a sex-starved maniac had its advantages—such as getting him off the subject. “Anyone tell you you’re a hell of a kisser?”

  “Yes.” His mouth curled in arrogance. “Now answer my question.”

  “Look, none of that is pertinent to this mission.”

  He clamped a hand over her shoulder and dragged her to a stop. Thunderclouds brewed in his dark irises. “Don’t try making this about the mission.” He shoveled a heavy layer of sarcasm on that last word before flinging his other arm out. “Other than the Gromache and your sprite friend, we’re the only ones out here. No bloody royals you have to kowtow to and hide your secrets from.”

  She knocked his hand free of her shoulder. “Piper isn’t my friend. She’s a freakin’ pain in my ass. That aside, could we please go find her before the Gromache decides he’s in the mood for some sprite delight?”

  Dash’s face tightened. “Fine, but we’ll damn well finish this conversation later.” He stepped around her and stalked through the underbrush.

  Releasing a relieved breath, she hurried after him. She’d worry about dodging his questions later. Right now, her primary focus was finding Piper and getting the hell off this mountain. She stumbled over a gnarled root protruding from the needle-strewn dirt and flailed her arms wildly, trying to regain balance. With an ooff, she tumbled sideways and knocked into a tree trunk. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she met Dash’s scowl.

  “What did I say about staying close?”

  The temptation to knock him flat on his ass sizzled through her veins. Planting a hand on the trunk for leverage, she pushed up from her knees. Something cold and slimy squished between her fingers. Grimacing, she jerked her hand from the tree and frowned at the red ooze dripping down her arm.

  “We’re close to the Gromache’s lair.”

  She stared at Dash. “How can you be sure?”

  “The red gunk on your hand—that’s how they mark their territory. And don’t ask what it is. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Why am I always the one who touches gross stuff?” After a quick scrub of her hand over a spongy moss clump, she raced to catch up with Dash before he bitched about her lagging behind again.

  They stepped into a small clearing. On one side, a low berm spanned at least ten feet across the forest floor. A thick padding of leaves and twigs covered its surface.

  “Is that where it lives?”

  Dash pressed a finger to her lips. Her silence guaranteed, he cocked his head, motioning her to follow him. They scuffed quietly towards the lair. A coo sounded from a black-winged dove perched on a low-hanging branch. Feathers rustled and the bird flew off. Breath held tight in her chest, Mara stared at the berm. Other than the dove, no sign of life moved anywhere near the mound of earth. Was that good or bad?

  She suddenly became aware of a foul odor underlying the forest’s earthy pungency. It reminded her of the stench of the palace’s outdoor rubbish compactors when they’d been putrefying beneath the sun and were long overdue for a decent scrubbing.

  Dash must have sensed her revulsion because he glanced at her and held his index finger to his lips. Yeah, yeah, she’d gotten the message the first time. While she made faces at his back, he cleared the twigs from the berm, being careful not to alert the Gromache of their presence by making too much noise.

  Soon enough, a wide gap appeared in the mounded earth. Broken roots protruded from the opening like stunted fingers. Dash ducked his head inside the hole and Mara crowded close, trying to catch a peek inside. She jumped away when he scooted back without warning.

  “It’s the rear entrance to his lair,” he whispered. “This is perfect. The Gromache won’t expect an attack from this direction.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We don’t do anything. You wait here while I take care of the Gromache.”

  Mara poked a finger in the center of his forehead. “Forget it. Piper might be a pain in the butt, but she’s my responsibility,” she said, her tone hushed yet fierce.

  Dash looked ready to argue. Not giving him the opportunity, she sidled past him and planted a hand on the lip of the opening. She jerked her head around when Dash tapped her shoulder.

  “You’re the most stubborn female alive.” He gave a low growl of frustration. “At least let me go in first.”

  Relieved by his reluctant acquiescence, she moved aside and allowed him the honor of leading the way. He settled on his back and wedged his legs through the tight opening, wiggling his way inside. Once his shoulders and head cleared the gap, she copied his motions. Midway inside the hole, she felt his hands grasp her hips. Confident his grip secured her, she let go of the hairy roots providing a handle at the lair’s exit and plunged into murky darkness.

  With Dash’s hands still wrapped around her, she blinked, trying to accustom her eyes to the lack of sunlight. She’d never been stuck hunched over in a dank, dark hole six feet underground before. If she had her way, this would be the one and only time.

  “Watch your head,” Dash whispered, taking her hand.

  He stooped and shouldered his way towards a tunnel leading from the small dugout they stood in. If you could call it standing. She stared at the dim outline of the back of his head. Boy, he was going to have a whopper of a crick in his neck by the time they got out of there.

  The tunnel meandered several feet before taking a steep, downward slant. Mara risked a quick glance at the earthen ceiling. A fine spray of dirt granules dusted her nose and she whisked them away with an impatient swipe from her fingers. How far were they underground?

  Dash halted abruptly. His hand released hers and she clutched the back of his shirt as she tried to see around his broad shoulder. A faint glow flickered beyond the bend in the tunnel. The noxious smell seemed intensified a thousandfold and she choked back the urge to gag. Jeez, how can the stinky bastard stand being in the same room with itself?

  She broke off her internal musings when Dash started forward again, his body tensed and measured steps wary. He reminded her of a large, stealthy Certurion panther creeping up on its prey.

  They rounded the bend and the tunnel widened, allowing her to see more clearly. Glow flutterbees skittered inside two large mesh cages flanking the entrance to the chamber spread before her, their pale luminescent wings flicking in a desperate plea for escape. Several of the jar’s unlucky occupants lay in a lifeless mound at the bottom of the mesh prison. Turning away from the sad sight, she followed Dash inside the chamber.

  Her mind bogg
led at the amount of time the Gromache must have spent carving out its primitive underground bunker. It wasn’t exactly spacious—her head still didn’t clear the ceiling—but an entire army of the ugly little buggers could easily camp out in the room. That’s if they could find space amongst all the odd paraphernalia stacked everywhere.

  Mara stared at the veritable mountain of mold-infested fabric occupying a corner of the chamber. A patchwork sleeve draped limply on the ground, as if the jacket attached to the sleeve tried pulling free only to give up and accept its inevitable demise. The jacket hinted at the ill-gotten source of the rotting fabric pile. Either the Gromache had been raiding clotheslines, or she and Dash weren’t the first ones trapped in one of its snares.

  Shivers of relief raced up her spine.

  Talk about a close call. If not for Dash, her clothing might have found a home atop the pile. A flash of movement nearby preceded Piper’s familiar squeak. A mesh cage smaller in size but similar to the ones housing the glow flutterbees hung from a rusted spike anchored in the dirt wall. The sprite stood inside the cage, its sole occupant. Her wide eyes were trained on them.

  The sprite pointed anxiously at twin towers of clutter stacked near the back of the chamber, both constructed from footwear.

  A kidskin hiking boot launched towards one tower’s top perch, missed its mark, and rolled to a precarious stop at the foot of the pile. Dash stalked forward and grabbed the hiking boot. With incomprehensible speed and dexterity, he pitched it at the footwear towers. It slammed into the first one with an explosive force, sending an avalanche of shoes toppling into the second tower.

  Boots, sandals and oddly enough a few high heels rained down, blocking out the grunts and angry squeals from the Gromache trapped beneath the tide of shoes.

  “We don’t have much time.” Dash jogged to the cage holding Piper. “Sneaky little bastard will shovel his way out soon enough. When he does he’ll be pissed enough to trumpet a call to every Gromache within a fifty-mile radius.”