by H. D. Gordon
“Who says I would care?” she snapped silently.
Samson gave his version of a grin. “You don’t have to.”
Charlie was watching them as if he could hear their silent conversation. As if he was the only one with mysteries.
“Are we going to stand here all day?” Charlie asked. “Or do you want to get going on saving your father?”
Surah sighed, trying not to look at Charlie too closely, seriously afraid that she was making a huge mistake here. She shouldn’t be doing this, and she knew it. But no one had talked to her this way since Syris died, and Charlie’s blunt, certain way of speaking had a way of making her listen. It had absolutely nothing to do with his wide shoulders and muscled arms and mysterious emerald eyes and perpetually calm manner. Nothing at all.
“I suppose you have a plan on how to do that?” she asked.
“To help you save your father? Yeah, you could say that.”
“And then what?”
Charlie was silent for a moment, his handsome face carefully expressionless. “I can’t help you catch and kill my brother, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “I’ll help you save your father, but I can’t do that.”
Surah swallowed and licked her lips. “Alright,” she said, “Help me save my father, and I won’t ask you to.”
She wasn’t sure if this was a lie or not, but it sounded true, so that was good. She had come this far, and the clock was still ticking. Step one was curing her father. She could decide on step two when the time came.
Charlie nodded. “Okay.” He took a step toward her, a slow one, his eyes flicking to Samson, and held out his hand to Surah. “Let’s go, then.”
Surah just looked at him for a moment, studying the dark, trimmed facial hair that covered his strong jaw and surrounded his soft-looking mouth. The unwarranted thought that came next scared her more than anything else that had happened in the last two days.
The thought was, she wondered what that course hair would feel like against her skin, how his lips would feel against it, too.
The realization that he wasn’t just a handsome man, but a rather gorgeous one was even worse. Her eyes wandered down Charlie’s body before she could help it, and that was probably the very first time that she knew she was in serious trouble here.
Samson’s head tilted toward her, and she cursed silently as she realized the tiger knew what she was thinking. She must have been projecting the thoughts pretty clear. She had to watch it.
“Where are we going?” she asked, using great effort to sound as sure and strong as she didn’t at all feel.
Charlie reached down and took her hand, the movement as sure and unhesitant as his words. Samson shocked the magic out of her for letting Charlie do this. People didn’t just reach out and touch their princess without permission.
She shocked herself even more when she didn’t protest.
“Shopping,” he said, and when he smiled, perfect white teeth peeking out behind those lips, Surah’s heart flipped. There was nothing she could do to stop it. “Do you like to go shopping, princess?”
Surah knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but her mood was anything but light at the moment. The expression on her face was as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment. She said nothing. But she didn’t pull her hand away from him, either. And when the thought came to her that she wished she weren’t wearing her gloves, so that she could feel his touch again, she chastised herself in her own mind like an angry mother.
Her silence seemed to have no effect on him. “We have to be careful, though,” he continued.
Surah gave him a droll look, ignoring the hammering of her heart.
His small smile returned. “We’ll need some things if we hope to pass through the Southlands and get what we need for your father. This means we have to go somewhere you’ll be recognized in a second.”
Surah nodded and snapped the fingers of her free hand. Charlie watched with wide eyes as her hair went from long lavender to a short, pale blond, the violet leaking out of her eyes and leaving them a dull brown color. Her facial features shifted slightly, making her look ten years older and not like herself at all. Even her attire changed; her rich cloak faded into an old, used black. She couldn’t help a small smile at the amazement on his face.
Samson seemed to be grinning, too.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Charlie said.
Surah said nothing, but as she stared into those deep eyes of his, a strange feeling of fluttering and tightening in her gut, her breath catching in her throat, what she thought was, we both may be.
Chapter 17
Theo
Theo knocked once more on the princess’s chamber door, the sound of his knuckles rapping on the wood echoing down the windowless hallway, thinking that she was probably just rousing from her sleep.
When still he heard no movement or response from beyond the door, his lips pinched together as he let out a sigh and looked at Lyonell, who stood guard to the right, Noelani to the left.
Lyonell shrugged. “Probably sleeping,” he said.
Theo gave him an impatient look and reached for the door, but Noelani stepped in front of him, ignoring the plain anger that passed behind the Head Hunter’s eyes. She met his glare evenly.
“I’ll check on the princess,” she said. “She may not be decent.”
Theo was unhappy about being interrupted, his face smooth but hard-lined, and he waved a hand to tell her to get on with it, then. Noelani opened the door to Surah’s room and pushed her way inside.
She returned a moment later.
“She’s gone,” Noelani said, and had to jump out of the way so as not to be knocked over when Theo charged into the room.
The Head Hunter’s eyes went to the empty, ruffled bed, the window, the bathroom. As they flicked from place to place a darkness seemed to pass over his expression, his lips pulling down and his eyes narrowing in his masculine face. For a moment, he said nothing, but both Noelani and Lyonell could see this was in great effort of controlling himself.
When he spoke, it was between clenched teeth. “Where did she go?” he asked.
At that moment, Bassil entered the room, moving in that eerily silent way the big Warlock seemed to have perfected, his patchwork cloak rippling with his movements. His deep voice sounded almost amused when he spoke. Almost, but not quite.
“Wherever she pleased, I would assume,” Bassil said.
Theo’s head whipped toward him, the Head Hunter’s distaste toward the Warlock evident on his face.
Theo’s voice was almost a growl now. “She should not be alone right now. Highborn women are being murdered.”
The Warlock lifted his wide shoulders once and dropped them. “The princess can take care of herself,” he said.
Noelani spoke up, ignoring Lyonell’s look that asked her to stay silent. “The princess is not a prisoner here. She can leave whenever she likes.”
When Theo looked at her, Noelani did not shrink under the cold gray of his eyes. She only held his stare and raised her chin a fraction. Theo had to give it to the female Hunter; men much bigger than her had withered under his gaze.
Instead of barking at her, Theo regarded Bassil again, which he could see enraged Noelani almost as much as if he’d hit her. He wouldn’t hit a woman, but he was very good at dismissing them.
“Have you performed the tracking spell?” Theo asked.
The Warlock shook his head. “We didn’t have a chance yet,” he said.
For some reason, Theo got the feeling that he was lying, but Bassil’s position was a high one in the court, and accusing him of lying would be seen as a major insult.
Theo was silent a moment, trying to think of his next move. Ordinarily, as Head Hunter he was to await orders from the Keeper before making any decisions or pursuits, but this was not an ordinary situation. Syris—who’d been the best Keeper Theo had ever known—was no longer here. And while he may be in love with Surah, he was not the type of man who completely trusted
a woman to these kinds of matters.
These kinds of matters were between life and death. Highborn ladies were being murdered. King Syrian was poisoned with demon blood. The Black Stone was missing. No, this was no job for a woman. Women had soft hearts. Theo didn’t think this was a bad thing, an insult to females, rather just the way it was and was supposed to be. A natural balance. He would need to lead this case. Besides, the princess could end up getting hurt.
Then there was Charlie Redmine. Fucking Charlie Redmine. How long had it been since he’d seen that country, common scum? A long time, he supposed. But not long enough. He knew that son of a bitch had something to do with this, had known it right off the bat, even before he and the princess had witnessed Redmine escape with Black Heart. Yes, he would need to put a stop to all of this, punish those who were responsible.
Not only that, but he hated the way that common shithead had looked at Surah. He hated it.
But there was protocol to follow, or at least appear to follow as long as he could stand to. He would wait for the princess to show back up for a few hours, and then he would take the coordinates that Bassil knew and go searching for the Stone.
“She could just be in with King Syrian,” Lyonell said, cutting into the Head Hunter’s thoughts.
Theo’s teeth clenched, but his tone was composed, his face smooth, even amicable. It was a wonder how much control one could gain from a highly disciplined lifetime, but there was nothing he could do to stop the dark emotions from storming through his head.
“I just left King Syrian,” he said.
Noelani chimed in. “I’m sure she’ll return shortly.”
Now Theo very much wanted to tell her to shut up, but being a woman, she would probably run back to the princess and tattle-tell on him. And that surely wasn’t the best way to convince her to be his wife.
He nodded, giving an indulgent smile. “Of course,” he said. “We’ll wait for her then.”
Then he swept out of the room, his heavy cloak swaying behind his swift, sure steps, leaving the two Hunters and the Warlock standing in the princess’s chambers and staring silently at each other. Beyond the arched windows, the early morning light strengthened with the rise of a new day.
Theo walked down the hallway that led back to the foyer, listening to the click of his boot heels on the polished hardwood floor and the blood that was pulsing in his ears.
He would wait for the princess, all right. He would wait for exactly three hours.
And then he would go looking for her.
Chapter 18
Surah
Surah stood staring at the small stone cottage, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. The silence of the place is what struck her first, surrounding her so completely in an instant.
Green vines sporting yellow flowers crawled up the front of the little house, framing the door and two square windows. The path leading up to the porch was collaged stone, red and gray and black that fit together in a sort of mosaic. The only sound was the wind rustling through the long grasses all around them.
The sunlight was beginning to strengthen, reminding Surah that the clock on her father’s life was still ticking. She took one more moment to take in her surroundings, looking all around in every direction and seeing no other civilization in sight, just miles and miles of green and yellow grasslands.
“Where did you bring me?” she asked, avoiding Charlie’s eyes, wishing she didn’t feel like she had to. She gestured to the cottage with one gloved hand, the glamour she was wearing making her expensive glove look old and tattered. “This doesn’t look like any shop I’ve ever seen.”
Charlie began striding up the stone path to the cottage in that sure way of his, and Surah found that she had no problem looking at him when he wasn’t looking back. She decided against her will that she liked the way the denim of his jeans sat below his waist, how she had never known that such common attire could be attractive. She personally had never donned a pair of jeans in her life, and she wondered if her rear end would look as good in them.
When she looked over and saw Samson staring at her, she shut those thoughts off like a faucet.
“Eyes on the prize,” the tiger told her silently. “Don’t trust this man, princess.”
“I know what I’m doing and I don’t trust him.”
“Good.”
Charlie climbed the steps of the cottage and turned to look at her. “You coming?” he asked.
Surah remained where she was, her hand resting on the tiger’s shoulder. “Not until you tell me what I’m walking into. You still haven’t told me anything about this plan of yours, Mr. Redmine. I’d like to hear it.”
Charlie moved back down the steps and stopped in front of her. Surah had to swallow twice to hold his gaze. His deep, low voice seemed to fill up the world in the emptiness around them, those emerald-colored eyes burning. Always burning.
“This is a friend’s house, my lady,” he said. “I’ve known Carolyn for over five years. She deals in the kinds of items we’ll be needing.”
Surah just looked at him, her face carefully expressionless. “What kinds of items would that be?”
Charlie was silent for a moment. “I think you know.”
“The use of black magic is forbidden in my father’s kingdom, Mr. Redmine. I would have assumed you knew this.”
Charlie nodded once, either completely ignoring her incredulity or not hearing it. She couldn’t tell. She just couldn’t get a read on this man.
“Sure,” he said, “but I would assume that you know Michael is using black magic to stay hidden and to keep…unwanted people away. How do you propose we get anywhere near the Stone without using it, too? I suppose I just assumed that you wouldn’t be opposed to it with your father’s life on the line.”
Surah’s teeth clenched. Charlie Redmine clearly had no manners or concern for social status, and she found the thought flying out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“You’ve got some nerve, Mr. Redmine, speaking to me the way you do.”
Charlie said nothing to this, just sighed and rubbed a hand down his slightly scruffy jaw. He looked as exasperated as she felt. Meanwhile, Samson looked slightly bored and amused at the whole thing.
Charlie looked at her now, his eyebrows raised. “Make up your mind, princess,” he said. “Are you going to trust me or not?”
Surah tilted her chin up a fraction. “Not,” she said, and began striding up to the cottage with her perfect posture and sure steps. Samson followed at her side. She was just about to knock on the door when Charlie spoke from behind her.
“He should stay out here,” he said, and Surah glanced over her shoulder to see he was talking about Samson. “If Carolyn sees him, she’ll know who you are, even with all that glamour. No one else in the kingdom owns a beast like that.”
“I do not own Samson,” she said.
Charlie Redmine seemed to have a knack for pissing her off, even with all her hard gained composure.
Samson surprised her by chuckling in her head, the sound a deep, growling rumble. “Sure you do, love. Sure you do.”
“He shouldn’t be speaking to me this way,” she told him silently, her tone more of a snap than she intended.
Surah thought if Samson could have shrugged, he would have. He hopped off the porch and began walking to the back of the house, his head held low as he sniffed at the green and yellow grasses.
“Isn’t that what you’re always complaining about?” He asked her as he slipped into the field to the east of the cottage, the amusement clear in his tone. “I thought you wanted to be treated like everyone else. Sometimes you just have to give an inch, princess. I’m not saying trust him, just give an inch.”
Surah sighed and looked at Charlie, who was silent, which seemed to be his way. Looking at her as if he were the one having some secret, internal conversation. She wished he wouldn’t look at her. She could feel his gaze on her skin, something that stroked rather than just saw, and her returning t
hought to Samson surprised even her. She regretted it as soon as it was born.
“I know that’s what I wanted, and that’s why I wish he wouldn’t do it.”
The tiger stopped in his tracks, the long grasses brushing against his powerful legs, the strengthening daylight casting a heavenly light around his blue and black striped body. His head turned, ears swiveling gracefully, and Surah thought the look Samson gave her when his amber eyes met hers was sort of painful. Then he turned and slunk into the grasses, body held low. A bit of real fear spiraled in her gut. She refused to examine the question fear of what?
Surah turned back to Charlie, her chin slightly raised. When he just stood there unmoving, she waved her hand impatiently to tell him to get on with it. Just because she didn’t trust him didn’t mean she didn’t intend to see where he led her. As of right now, he seemed to be the most direct path to the Stone she needed to save her father, and she was fully prepared to kill him if worse came to worst.
At least, she thought she was.
Charlie climbed the porch steps once more, flashing Surah that charming smile of his when she moved away before his shoulder could brush hers. He reached up and knocked on the wooden door, which thumped hollowly. Surah had to stop herself from shifting her feet as they waited, despite the fact that she was not a shifty person.
A minute passed, then two, and another. Surah was a split second away from telling Charlie to knock again when the door swung open, the hinges creaking in a way that would have been comical if not for the uneasy feeling in her stomach. It was an oddly gripping sound.
The smell that wafted out of the cottage and bombarded Surah’s senses was that of rich flowers and thick herbs, stale smoke and spoiled milk. It rolled out toward her on a wave that made her eyes water and her throat itch, and no amount of etiquette training could keep her nose from wrinkling. She covered her mouth on the shoulder of her cloak just in time to catch the three sneezes that forced their way out.