by Mary Wine
A hard hand wrapped around her face as she was pulled back into the coats. She reached for the fingers clamping down on her mouth, but he had her trapped against his body in a second.
“Easy…”
She sent her elbow back into her captor’s ribs anyway. Lykos stiffened and muttered a curse.
“There’s the thanks I get for trying to warn you.”
He had her bound to his body, and she cried out softly as a tremor traveled down her length. “Warning doesn’t include touching.”
She expected him to release her, but instead, she felt his breath against her temple and along her cheek, as though the man was smelling her.
“I need you out of sight,” he whispered softly against her ear. “But you already noticed we have visitors and considered it worthy of investigation.”
“Which does not involve touching.”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her back. “Kindly refrain from removing the single element of enjoyment from this moment.”
“Release me, Guardian Claxton.”
He sighed, sounding frustrated. She tried to ignore the sound, tried to remain irritated by his manhandling, but the tremor moving down her body was eroding her resolve. Her flesh was responding to him in spite of every reason she had to resist. Solid, logical reasons that didn’t seem to be fending off the sensations flooding her.
“Such animosity, when I was preventing you from being discovered.”
Decima heard the steps outside the closet and the door closing behind a pair of men. She wanted to refuse to thank him but needed to deny the impulse to be childish. Lykos Claxton would not strip her of her control.
“Your point is well-founded and passed now.” She pushed against him, but he held her still. “And another begins. Perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to discard it.”
His voice was husky and thick with promise. It should have repulsed her, but her response was more horrifying than that. Her nipples contracted, proving without a doubt that she was tempted by his touch.
She could not tolerate such weakness.
“I believe we should.”
She made to move away from him, and his arms loosened. Relief speared through her for a brief moment before he turned her around and bound her in his embrace yet again.
“Damn you, Lykos.”
He chuckled at her again. “In a manner of speaking, yes, you have cursed me, Decima. Is it so wrong of me to want to test just how much I affect you?” He cupped her nape, teasing her with his strength.
“Yes. It is unprofessional, Guardian.”
“But you are trembling, Decima.”
Somehow, she’d managed to blind herself to just how much larger he was than herself. He loomed over her, leaning down until his breath teased her lips.
“And we are in a coat closet.” He flouted her attempts to remain proper. “What better location to dispense with formality?”
“I was seeking evidence.” She pressed her thumb straight up into the soft, unprotected flesh behind his jaw. “What better time to recall my dedication to duty?”
He stoked her nape a final few times as she increased the pressure against his throat. She was hurting him; she knew her skill well, but she could see him enduring the pain, challenging her to see how far she would go. Sweat popped out on her forehead before she stopped pressing deeper into his flesh. Her cheeks brightened with shame.
“I should kiss you anyway…” he muttered. But he released her with a short grunt. “You’re a woman, Decima. There is nothing wrong with remembering it from time to time.”
There was everything wrong with it. At least so far as it went with Lykos. No Guardian would respect her if she took any of them into her bed. She had to be only another Guardian among them, her gender irrelevant.
“I am glad you didn’t.”
The words threatened to stick in her throat, but she forced them past the longing biting at her. It would pass. She ordered it to do so.
“I’m not,” Lykos groused. “However, we have work to do.”
Decima should have been relieved to have him turn the topic toward duty. Yet she was torn between what she wanted to feel and the desire to have him make good on his promise.
It had been a very long time since she’d been kissed.
But Lykos’s expression was sober now, telling her she would not be changing that fact anytime soon.
***
“She is not in her quarters.”
Marshal Agapitos frowned. “At this hour? I find that highly suspicious.”
“You needn’t.”
Decima moved into his office on silent steps. Today she was wearing a tweed coat with a pair of cycling pantaloons that made her look very much like a member of the Illuminist community, but she still gained narrow-eyed glances from their guests.
Decima measured up expertly, arching one delicate eyebrow in response to the chilly welcome. “She is in the library. Rather predictably so, I might add. I deduced where she’d gone when the gate personnel told me she’d turned around instead of going into her chambers after classes.”
“Just how is it predictable?” Grainger demanded.
Decima offered him an innocent look. “She was raised outside the Order, but as it has been noted, she is happy to adopt our ways.”
“You are telling me nothing, Decima Talaska,” Marshal Agapitos complained. “Make your point. You are after all a Hunter; as such, you should be able to tell me precisely where Miss Aston is.”
Decima offered them all a knowing look. “I perform my duty well. One large disadvantage Miss Aston has suffered due to her mother’s decision to leave the Order is being raised amid Puritan teachings. Since she and Guardian Lawley have an understanding, it’s logical to realize she went to the library to expand her knowledge of intimacies.”
Grainger flushed, but Decima was more interested in Darius’s reaction. A flare of heat appeared in his eyes. For a brief moment, his perfect control vanished. She discovered herself envious of Janette.
Marshal Agapitos snapped his fingers at the two men clearing their throats near the door. They hurried to press their ear devices and escape the harsh demands of their superior.
Decima discovered herself fighting the urge to glance toward Lykos. She won but suffered the sharp sting of regret.
***
She really needed to stop.
Janette replaced the book and tried to force herself to leave before opening another volume. There were already dozens of ideas swirling around inside her mind, teasing her possibilities if she were bold enough to try them.
If Darius ever returned to her chambers was a more prudent question. The man might well rethink his position on making good on his promise, after all. She had not been a very accomplished lover. Not in the least.
But he would honor his word. She felt that fact burning like a candle inside her heart. Beyond the need that flared up between them, she realized there was a deeper emotion allowing her to be drawn to the man.
Trust.
The man was arrogant, and it irritated her, but he was also honorable. She’d heard the word her entire life, had had it wielded over her like a whip, and yet Darius was the first man to actually embody it.
So was the real reason she’d allowed him into her bed because she needed someone to cling to?
Her memory offered up a vivid recollection of the way his kiss had sent her flesh to tingling.
No…it wasn’t the only reason.
She reached for another book; this one, in Japanese. She couldn’t read the text, but the drawings seemed to be about erotic games—to be specific, challenges to see how well a man might control himself while his cock was being sucked. She stared at the images of females hiding beneath a banquet table and nearly turned purple as she contemplate
d such things happening in the formal dining room at her father’s house. Her sire would die.
Or maybe it was just what he needed.
You’re being wicked.
She smiled, unrepentant.
“Miss Aston?”
The book went tumbling to the floor as her cheeks flamed scarlet. Two burly men stood at the end of the aisle, watching her intently.
“Yes?”
“Please come with us.”
They both wore lapel pins with the Guardian seal set above the crystal, but she had never seen them before. She was bound to cooperate with them, but they reminded her far too much of Dr. Nerval and his orderlies. Tension knotted her belly instantly. It was so acute, she felt nauseated. The months of security she’d enjoyed suddenly disintegrated, dropping her back to that time when she had been prey to everyone around her.
But she wasn’t that girl any longer.
She lifted her chin. “Where are we going?”
One of the men shook his head, but Janette stopped and shot him a stern look. “Every member has the right to know where they are being summoned,” she quoted from the law book. They were in the middle of the library now, and her voice carried to several other members. An older woman stood and stepped forward.
“You have been summoned by Marshal Agapitos; that is all you need to understand, Novice.”
Her insides remained twisted when the older woman frowned and moved closer. “We have no Marshal here,” the older woman remarked.
The pair of Guardians exchanged a look. “He has arrived to deliver this Pure Spirit to her field posting. You need not be concerned.”
“I am still a Novice for the better part of a year,” Janette informed them.
Two more members drew near. They brought a sense of family to her that made her realize how alone she’d felt.
“You are a Pure Spirit, and your Novice year is being cut short.”
“How illogical,” the older woman remarked. “The value of solid training should never be underestimated.”
“You are not involved in this matter,” one Guardian snapped, but the woman refused to be intimidated.
“I disagree. You have failed to uphold the law. Because she is a Pure Spirit does not absolve you of answering her when Miss Aston asks where she is going. Someone please summon our Guardians.”
Janette felt the sweetness of relief for only a moment before one of the men grabbed her upper arm and tugged her toward the entrance of the library. The older woman gasped, and chairs skidded against the floor as other members tried to intervene, but they were too far away. The Guardian pulled her into the hallway before anyone reached them.
“Meddling old bat,” he muttered while pulling her down the corridor. He and his partner looked rapidly around them, betraying their intention not to be caught again.
Janette lifted her arm and dropped it neatly over the hand clamped onto her arm. She struggled to use the Asian fighting technique exactly as she’d been taught, but she lacked the skill only practice would have given her.
She ended up scuffling with the man but broke his grip long enough to sweep his leg out with a low kick. He went tumbling, but she didn’t have time to watch her success. She turned to confront his partner.
There was a muffled curse as two of the members from the library grabbed him from behind. Their actions granted her a moment of freedom, and she turned to run. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to flee.
She ran headlong into a solid body. Her control was slipping, and she fought against her newest threat with rising panic.
“Easy, sweetheart.”
She went still in an instant, shock freezing her.
Sweetheart? Since when did Darius call her sweetheart?
His tone had been low, but when she looked up, she was hypnotized by the flicker of rage in his eyes. It wasn’t aimed at her but flared up bright in response to the men trying to force their will on her. He gave her only a moment to absorb such a change in demeanor before he shoved her behind himself.
“Now, what are you two doing to my fiancée?”
***
She would have liked to believe she was dreaming—ascribing everything that was happening to the illogical actions of her subconscious would have made sense.
But Darius was still sitting beside her, and the tension inside the carriage was thick enough to slice with a butter knife. The two burly Guardians were perched on the outside of the carriage while Marshal Agapitos and Guardian Grainger sat across from them.
It was a good thing she’d cast off wearing petticoats, else her dress would have been draped over all their knees. Illuminist carriages were smaller, most likely a result of their women wearing more practical clothing.
Her simple skirt fit easily in the space available, but Darius was pressing close to her. The hissing of steam kept them all silent, but they came to their destination soon enough. Lykos was waiting to offer her a hand down from the carriage, and he held on to her hand until handing her off to Darius. The two men flanked her, actually pushing her slightly behind them as the carriage released the last of its steam and went quiet.
“Miss Aston, I need to make it clear to you how important it is for you to take this next step in your life among the Order. I will hear your Oath.”
Marshal Agapitos was smiling at her and moving closer in spite of Darius and Lykos. Janette stepped forward, but her belly twisted because the Marshal reminded her so much of Dr. Nerval. He was a well-fed man—his vest was tight across his belly where he was trying to hide his overindulgence. He had a thin nose on which a pair of double-lens spectacles perched. Professor Yulric often wore a similar pair, but the Marshal reminded her of a weasel instead of a man of learning. In his eyes, she could see him looking at her like some treasured possession.
“I have a year to consider such a commitment.”
No one liked her answer. Frustration appeared in the Marshal’s eyes, but it was the suspicion in Darius’s dark gaze that needled her the most.
“If that is your position on such promises, I find it easy to question this so-called engagement.”
“I am going with you, Marshal,” Darius remarked, but underlining his normally perfectly control was a clear warning.
“Only if Miss Aston says you are,” Agapitos argued.
“Why do you care if he comes or not?” Janette demanded. She tugged her hand free and stepped several paces away from them all. “Are you not all members of the same Order? Why are you fighting over me like a pack of hounds?”
“As a Pure Spirit, you must accept that you will be deployed for the good of the Order. A fact you should know at this point in your training, Novice.”
“Except you have the intention of taking me away from my studies while they are still incomplete,” Janette countered. “What are you worried I’ll learn before pledging myself and ending up subject to your authority?”
Marshal Agapitos smiled at her. The sort of smile one would aim at a child. “No place in life is free. It was members of this Order who rescued you from what your father had decided would be your lot. Don’t be naïve in believing enjoying those fine chambers is free. Deep Earth Crystals power our world, and the demand is great.”
That much rang true, making her pause before arguing again.
“Why are you resisting pledging yourself to the Illuminist Order?” Guardian Grainger joined the attack.
“Because I don’t know where I’m going, and you seem to be in a hurry to separate me from anyone I know.”
Maybe she was being foolish to voice her thoughts so completely, but she did enjoy being able to speak her mind. The pin on her lapel grew more precious every day as she wasn’t made to simper because of her gender.
“You don’t know Guardian Lawley, my dear girl,” Agapitos said
. “He’s only employing a different method of cajoling you into being his to command. He’s seducing you to keep you docile.”
The Marshal was closing in on her, but Darius stepped into the man’s path. Almost in the same moment, Lykos moved her farther back and Decima took up a position near her.
“Enough,” Janette snapped. “Get out of my path, Darius. The lot of you may say a great many things about me, but you shall not label me a coward.”
Darius shot her a hard look. “You are not the only one the Marshal is insulting, Janette, and I’ll be damned if I stand by while he tars and feathers us.”
There was a hint of something in his eyes that tugged at her heart. Something she couldn’t quite name but recognized nonetheless. Quite by surprise, she discovered herself on the same team with him, and it filled her with pride.
She pushed her way between Lykos and Darius until she was facing Agapitos. She folded her hands in the prim fashion she’d been taught to perfect by the time she was five.
“It does sound rather un-Illuminist to be so concerned about our personal dealings.”
“You need to understand what your future will be. By taking the Oath, I will be able to trust you.”
“I see, and you, sir, are interrupting,” Janette continued in a soft tone. “The issue of trust really is the root of this conversation.”
“Exactly,” the Marshal agreed.
“The lack of it, actually.”
Darius frowned at her, but he held his thoughts behind a stern expression.
“Now you have pointed out that I shouldn’t trust Guardian Lawley or his compatriots, and I discover myself unwilling to trust you when you seem insistent on my taking an Oath I am not completely ready to take.”
She held her hand up when the Marshal began to sputter. “And kindly refrain from telling me that because I am a Pure Spirit, I must do as you say. Perhaps I am naïve; my view of the Illuminist Order never included my being shackled by your authority like a slave simply because of my blood. So it would seem, if I am going anywhere, we are all going together.”
***
Janette intended to turn her back on the Marshal. But she made it only two steps before she stopped—froze—because she hadn’t really looked about until just then. The boardwalk beneath her feet was the same as at any train station, but the transportation waiting for passengers was nothing like a train.