by Isabo Kelly
With trembling fingers, he untied the laces on the front of her bodice and pulled it apart. She closed her eyes, feeling the material slip just over her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes tighter and bit her lip when his mouth closed over her nipple. She was only vaguely aware as he pulled her new breast dagger from its perch. All of her thoughts were centered on the skin he sucked and nipped to an almost painful peak.
He moved away from her long enough to set the dagger on his night table. Then, inch by inch, he slid her dress to the floor. He knelt at her feet as she stepped out of the mounds of material, then pushed the garment aside and stood to claim her mouth again. Slow and torturous minutes passed before he finally removed her corset and shift. Her entire body was a quivering, aching need when he finally allowed her to pull off his tunic.
A hand closed over hers as her fingers sought the lacings of his breeches, but she would no longer be denied. Her other hand deftly untied his bonds. She slipped his pants to the floor then ran her hands along his thighs to grasp his pulsing erection.
“No more waiting,” she commanded, squeezing until he groaned.
“No more waiting,” he agreed in a ragged voice.
She lay across the bed, pulling him on top of her and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her body exploded with his first thrust, forcing a shuddering groan through clenched teeth. She captured his mouth with hers even as her body built to another agonizing climax. Lost in his rhythm, she felt only him, thinking of nothing beyond the moment. He made her feel wild and sexy and more like a woman than she’d ever realized she could be. He gave her a safe place to be free. She clung to his shoulders, panting and helpless before his passion. When she heard him groan her name, a part of her, deep in her soul, knew she would never be the same again.
They collapsed together, sweat-soaked and breathless. After a time, Jacob rolled and pulled her on top of him. He caressed her damp hair and face, kissing the top of her head. Her lips moved over his chest as she nuzzled against him.
When she looked up at his shoulders, she gasped. Fingering the scratch marks, she grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, love.” He grinned wolfishly. “For the next few days, those will be a pleasant reminder of this night.”
“Mmm. I don’t need a reminder. This is a night I’ll never forget.”
His grin softened. “Good.”
He kissed her lightly then rolled to his side. Pulling up the covers, he wrapped them both in a warm cocoon. She nestled close, and very soon, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Jacob remained awake for as long as he could, even after her breathing slowed and steadied. Every moment with Victoria was precious. His own exhausted body wouldn’t be denied sleep for long. But as his eyes began to close, he tightened his hold on the little thief. “Sleep well, my love,” he whispered into her hair just as exhaustion overcame him.
Vic woke slowly, her mind climbing lazily to full awareness. She was alone in the bed, but quiet movement let her know Jacob was still there. Pulling the covers up under her chin, she inadvertently touched the onyx charm still at her throat.
“Jacob,” she murmured, sitting up.
“Good morning, love. Did you dream?”
“Not a single one, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.” He joined her on the bed, dressed in his King’s Own uniform.
“The raid is tonight?” she spoke quietly, but held his gaze.
“Yes.”
She untied the necklace. “Wear this.” When he started to protest, she pushed it toward him. “Please, Jacob. Please.”
He gave in with a nod, allowing her to tie the black cord around his neck. Running her fingers over the onyx where it hung at the hollow of his throat, she smiled. “That makes me feel a little better. Though, if you were to let me go with you…”
“No.” He took her hand in his and squeezed. “Absolutely not and don’t you dare follow. Remember your promise last night.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “But I’m not happy. You better not get yourself hurt, Jacob Marin.”
He smiled, cocky and self-assured. “Worried?”
“No.” She set her mouth in a pout, but it dissolved into a lopsided grin.
“You’ll stay here today.” It wasn’t a question.
“No,” she said. “I have to go into town to see if the Hole has any news. Don’t frown at me. I need to know what’s happening. And this isn’t an unnecessary risk. I’ll be careful. I’ll wear my new dress. None of Charlie’s men will recognize me in that. Hell, I don’t recognize me in that.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “All right, little thief. But be careful.”
“Always.” Her smile started him chuckling again.
“You’ll come back here tonight?”
“You won’t be here.” She wanted to stay in his room, to wait for his return, to make sure he did return, but she hadn’t wanted to ask. She hadn’t even wanted to address the topic. Despite his actions, Vic was still insecure about his true feelings. She couldn’t help it. For all she knew, he acted this way with all of his lovers. Which would explain why the women of Karasnia spoke so highly of him.
“I’d like you to be here,” he said, running a hand across her cheek and into her hair. “I’ll know you’re safe if you’re here. And I like the idea of coming home to you.”
“‘Coming home to me?’ That sounds very domestic.” Her stomach tumbled in giddy pleasure at the thought.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
His smile touched her heart.
“Will you be here?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’ll be here when you come home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Vic heard the familiar whistle just before she entered the shrine. The open floor of the pyramid was empty except for a single woman, deep in meditation. Vic knelt before the garden for a full five minutes, offering a prayer of hope that the news she was about to receive wasn’t bad. Outside, she slipped around to the backside of the pyramid where few passed.
“Hey, Pfreal.” Ren grinned, his eyes wide, his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline. “Never seen you in a dress before. Least not one like that. You look good. What’d you do, win a bet?”
Vic smiled crookedly, dropping the hood of the cloak she’d borrowed from Jacob. “Lost one actually. Hey, speaking of bets, how’s the big game going?”
“Brad’s doing all right. But Joe’s leading the table.”
“Figures. Brad never could hold up to Missek.” She shot a glance around then leaned against the stone wall close to Ren. “So what’s the word? You obviously got my message.”
He paled slightly, his expression freezing into serious lines. “Some of the Hole’s people are already missing, Pfreal.”
“Who?”
“Nick. Thrilaa. Bankt. Wats.”
Vic closed her eyes, bit her bottom lip, and breathed in deeply. “Damn.”
“There’s more. Some of Charlie’s men have turned up missing, too. He doesn’t believe Gip about the magicians.”
“He thinks the Hole is responsible.” She wasn’t really surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Is Charlie responsible for any of our losses?”
“We don’t know. But he’s declared war.”
“Goddess help us.” She felt like she’d been slugged in the stomach. She ran a hand over her eyes, then up through her hair. Looking into the too-young face of her friend, she said, “Ren, hide. Go deep. Damn the Hole. Damn Charlie. Keep out of sight until this thing ends.”
He dropped his gaze. “I can’t, Pfreal,” he said just above a whisper. “I have to do my part.”
“Damn it, this isn’t just about Charlie. You don’t know what those magicians can do.”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
He met her gaze, his hazel eyes old for his adolescent face.
“They gonna stop the magicians, Pfreal?”
She didn’t need to ask who they were. “Yeah, they’re taking care of it. But it
’s not over yet.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “All right, little man. You do what you have to. But watch your neck.”
His mouth lifted in a half grin. “You got it. You, too. Stay standing.”
“Always.”
Vic slipped around to the front of the shrine. Her mind tangled over Charlie’s lousy timing. Just when the gangs should work together to keep their people alive, Charlie goes and starts a war.
A war that began with her.
She heaved another sigh. She couldn’t solve the problem. Not yet. But when the magicians were out of the way, she was going to have a talk with Charlie. Enough was enough. She wouldn’t be responsible for the deaths of Hole people. Not when her actions had started the whole thing.
Working a twisted path toward Upper Market, she was almost to the place where she’d hidden her blacks when a hand closed over her mouth and dragged her into an alley. She started to struggle, but her feet twisted in her skirts. Her hand was already reaching for her new breast dagger, when her assailant whispered in her ear.
“No knives, Vic,” the raspy, nasal voice commanded. “I just want to talk.”
The hands holding her loosened, and she spun to look into the face of her assailant. Her dagger jumped instantly to hand. “Tracker,” she growled.
“Shut up, Vic. No one knows I’m in town.”
“We couldn’t have guessed? Your men are everywhere.”
“Put away the knife, Flash. My men are why I want to talk to you.”
She studied the smuggler’s face. He was dirty, unwashed for at least two weeks by the smell. Tangled dark hair framed his beaten face. Above the crooked lump of his nose, his dark eyes darted almost continuously. He looked like a starving animal trapped in a cage.
“Okay. Make it a good story,” she said, sliding her dagger back into its sheath.
Tracker eyed the dagger’s place then her attire. “You look good in a dress, Flash.”
“Careful. This time I’ll break something more than just your nose.”
He raised his hands, palms facing her. “No offense intended. Just an observation. Actually, you did me a favor by smashing my nose.”
“How’d I do that?”
His eyes darted around the alley again, then he motioned to a door. She followed warily. When he nodded her in, she said, “After you.” With a shrug, Tracker entered. She passed through the door behind him, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
They walked into a small, empty, spotless room. The space was used for storage, but its current cargo hadn’t come into the city yet. Tracker paced to the opposite side of the room and dropped heavily against the wall. A single torch flickered in a wall sconce to his right, the only illumination in the windowless square.
Vic stood by the door, her hand resting lightly on the latch. She closed it enough to block most of their conversation, but left enough of a gap so she could watch the street. “All right, Tracker. Talk.”
“It’s a long story. Started on that last run through Georna to Bthak. We were camping half a day from the border, Bthak side, on our way back into Karasnia, when Malkiney goes missing. We waited for a full day. No one knew where he’d gone or what had happened. Next morning, we’re getting ready to give up and pull out, and he shows up. He gives me some story about coming across a mountaineer’s daughter who was up for a little play. Said he’d have caught up with us eventually.”
“And that’s strange?” Vic leaned against a wall, her gaze darting between her view of the street and Tracker. She didn’t trust him, never had, but the man looked more nervous than she’d ever seen him. His hands jerked with each movement, the skin under his right eye twitched, his mouth worked even when he wasn’t talking. It took a lot to make a man like him nervous and that worried her more than being cornered in this room.
“Malkiney’s never gone off like that before, Flash, but I’ve had others who have, so I figured the story was true enough. And Malkiney seemed all right, you know? Nothing different, nothing suspicious. So we started for the border and just before we get there, we come across this man, all alone, standing in the middle of the road. And I’m thinking it’s a trap, but the men I’d sent to scout had come back with nothing.
“The man tells me he has a job for me. Top pay. I ask what. He tells me he’s got some people he needs smuggled into Dareelia, quick and quiet. Says they’re a few hours ride away. Now I’m real suspicious and I’m about to tell him no deal ’cause we’re going to our wintering hole when he tosses this bag at me. Flash, the bag almost knocked me on my ass it was so heavy. Full of gold. Real gold. And this guy tells me there’s lots more.”
Tracker hacked out a harsh laugh and shook his head. “At the time, I thought, what the hell, yeah. My men are good. Nothing they can’t handle. And if things go bad, we could always cut out, take the bag and run. There was enough gold to last us through winter and into next summer.”
“What’d this guy look like?”
“Don’t remember.”
“What?” She straightened from the wall. “What do you mean you don’t remember?”
“It’s like the image of him ain’t in my memory. I wouldn’t know him if I tripped over him. All I remember is he seemed…harmless. You know? Like we could take him, no problem.”
“What happened after you picked up the magicians?”
His eyes narrowed, but he said, “The one that hired us left instructions that the three were to be brought in from separate directions to specific places in town. The fourth—”
“Fourth?!” Her voice echoed in the small room.
“Quiet if you’re gonna leave that door open,” Tracker hissed. “Yeah, there’re four. The fourth would stay in the Karasnian Forest. When I asked about guarding the fourth, the man said not to worry about it. Then he disappeared. So we break into three groups to pass into Karasnia. The fourth, he comes along with mine and Malkiney’s group.”
“Which of the other three did you have?”
“The white one. The one from the inn.”
Her suspicions jumped and her fingers twitched for a blade. “Why you telling me this? What do you want from me?”
“I saw you go in the other night, Flash. I saw you go into the inn and get out without being killed. No small feat. I tracked you back to the castle, so I know you’ve got a connection there. I want to help you stop these twisted spawn of the damned.”
“Why?” She took no pains to hide her distrust.
He looked at his feet then met her gaze. His right eye twitched hard enough that it looked like he was winking.
“That’s the rest of the story,” he said. “We were down near the Karasnian province-Georna border when I saw the goblins keeping pace with us. No one else noticed. When I pointed them out to Malkiney, he said I must be seeing things. These goblins were…different. Quiet, moving in twos or threes, and taller than any goblin I’ve ever seen. But I never got a good look at them. They never came near us. Not once.
“Then, just after I started seeing the goblins, my men started disappearing. One, two at a time. Every night. And again, no one else noticed. Malkiney says they probably cut for a wintering hole or found themselves a bed to warm. But too many of them were missing.
“One night, I stay awake. I pretended to sleep, but I kept an eye on the fire. That’s when I saw him—the white one—throw something into the flames. This purple smoke came up from the fire and spread over the men while they’re sleeping. I don’t know what it was. But next thing I know, Malkiney and two other guys are standing. The other men, they’re moving funny, all stiff and jerky.
“I watched Malkiney, the two others and both sorcerers go into the woods. I tried to follow but, just past the edge of the trees, they were gone. So I tried going back to the camp to wake some of the others. None of ’em budged. Nothing. They weren’t dead, just…”
“Not there,” Vic provided. “The men in the inn were the same. All but Malkiney.”
Tracker shook his head. “It was the powder stuff the wh
ite one threw in the fire.”
“Why weren’t you affected?”
He tapped his nose and smiled. “Only reason I can figure. I haven’t been able to smell since you crushed my nose, so all I can guess is that you have to be able to smell the stuff for it to work. So, you see, Flash, you saved my life.”
“If all you have to do is smell it, why wasn’t I affected when I went in the inn? Why isn’t Malkiney affected?”
“Don’t know about Malkiney. But the stuff builds the more you’re exposed to it. I watched for the next few nights and the white one used less and less each time. I imagine, by now, the men only need a little before they go under. There probably wasn’t enough in the air to affect you that night.”
The sound of voices in the alley outside the door silenced them both. Vic watched as two men and a woman strolled past, deep in conversation. As they neared the door, she caught a few words on the state of horse prices that year. They passed the door without looking up from their conversation. When the alley fell silent again, she asked, “What happened that first night? When the magicians came back?”
“Only Malkiney came back with them. I can only guess what happened to the other two. That’s when I realized we were smuggling blood magicians, not just magical thieves. Next morning, I ask Malkiney where the two men are and I get pretty much the same story. But he starts looking at me kinda strange, suspicious. I stayed for four more nights, watching. Every night the same. On the day after the fourth night, I see him talking real quiet-like to the copper-skinned magician—he’s the one not in town. And they’re looking in my direction. I didn’t wait around. I disappeared that night.”
“So why are you here? I mean if Malkiney sees you…”
“I told you, I want the bastards stopped. They took my right-arm man, Flash. Killed a lot of good men. Now I might not be an upstanding citizen of Karasnia, but I don’t like blood magicians in my kingdom. After that mess with Prince Erick…well, I figure I owe it to the men who’ve been killed to make sure these blooded damned are caught.”
“I still don’t know what you think I can do for you.” And she wasn’t sure if she should even believe his story. This could easily be a way to lure Jacob and the King’s Guard into a trap. But if it was, Tracker was a pawn in the plan and not the one in charge. She’d seen him try to con before. He didn’t do it by going without baths and twitching with every move.