by Queen, Nyna
Darken glanced up, looking actually surprised by her question. “Because I’m doing the spy work, of course.”
Alex blinked. Ohhh! Well, of course! How could she ever have doubted his abilities?
“Please forgive me for not sharing your over-inflated self-confidence.”
“Apology accepted.”
Argh!
“And by the way”—a smug glint lighted the depths of his eyes—“it’s not over-inflated if it is justified.”
Oh please! He really thought he was that good, didn’t he?
Alex leaned forward an inch. “Tell me, do you and your ego sleep well together at night, or does it tend to kick you out of bed?”
“We manage, thank you. Something I’m sure you can’t say about yourself and your stubbornness.”
Bastard!
Alex bared her teeth at him. “Well, if you’re such a genius, then why is it that we are still no closer to the Master than we were a week ago?”
Darken carefully sat the stack of papers down on the table and folded his hands. “To rush things means making mistakes. Mistakes we cannot afford. We’re getting there.”
“What, with this?” Alex stabbed a finger at the Echeranion Sphere, feeling an overpowering urge to hurl it against the wall, or even better, against Darken. Perhaps it would put a dent in his freaking ego. “A fucking waste of time, if you ask me!”
Darken cocked his head to the side, a hint of amusement coloring his deep voice. “Is the tough-as-nails spider claiming defeat?”
“No, of course not!” Alex snapped. “It’s just—” She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know. I thought we would have something by now, you know, some kind of progress.”
The amusement sharpened a smidgen. “And I thought spiders were patient creatures.”
“Well, sugar, I’m not your ordinary spider next door.”
“Oh, I never thought you were, Alex.”
Alex froze. There was something intimate, something almost suggestive in the way he said her name.
Every cell in her body came to attention with a zing, as if she’d touched a power pole. Suddenly, the air in the room tasted heady, like dark wine and honeysuckle and something compellingly masculine that primed all of her instincts.
She stole a glance at Darken. There he sat, loafing in his chair, watching her with that smug, lazy smile. His dark hair was doing its tousled thing, inspiring way too many unchaste thoughts in her head.
The sun angling through the window dripped molten gold into the dark brown shade of his eyes. It reminded her too much of that moment in the roadside diner where they had stopped with the kids on the way to Gomorrha, and where he had teased her ravenous appetite. At least then she could still blame her growing attraction on the backlash of his magic.
He was teasing her again right now. She could see it in his eyes. Trying to get another rise out of her. It was a one thousand percent genuine Darken flytrap, but like an obedient little moth, she was dying to buzz right into his flame.
She had to deflate this balloon before it exploded in her face.
Alex sighed. “Well, they’ll still squash me like an ordinary spider, if they ever find me here.”
“They’d have to go through me first.” All humor had fled Darken’s voice. The words came out in a soft, vicious promise.
Alex’s tiredness was gone in a blink.
He meant it, she realized. If someone were to come in right now and tried to hurt her, he wouldn’t hesitate to defend her. The thought sent a delicious spark of excitement though her, a tingling warmth that flowed from her spine down into the tips of her toes. If he cared for her that much…
Yet at the same time, that treacherous little voice of doubt kept nagging in the back of her mind. Yes, yes, it whispered, he cares for you. Sure he does. But how can he ever ignore what you are? A shaper mongrel without a pedigree, without manners, without a penny to your name. Do you really believe it doesn’t matter to him?
Only one way to find out, really. It was time to stop acting the coward. That had never been her style, anyway.
If one day she was old and gray and bitter and someone came up to her and asked why she had ended up like she had, so miserable and alone, she at least wanted to be able to say that when the man of her dreams walked into her life, she’d done everything in her power to make it happen, but it still hadn’t worked out.
And if it cost her a little bit of pride, so what? Who would know but the two of them?
Alex wetted her bottom lip, keenly aware that Darken’s devil eyes were still fixed upon her. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
Oh, come on, sugar, get a damn grip!
It was beyond stupid. She, who’d never had any trouble telling a man her opinion—and rather blunt at that—was turning into a clumsy, tongue-tied teenager when Darken was around. Oh, Mitja would have a field day if he could see her.
Just spit it out there, alright!
She forced her lips apart. “Darken, I was—what?” Her eyes narrowed at the sudden change in his expression, a flickering mix of curiosity, surprise and complacency.
“Nothing.”
Nothing my ass! “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t grin like that.”
A slow smile parted his lips. “I just don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”
Heat flushed Alex’s face. Oh yes. Yes, she had. She remembered very distinctly screaming his name when they had made love at Blayde’s hotel. It didn’t seem like the best moment to mention it though.
“By all means, if you prefer me calling you ‘your royal Truebornness’ or ‘Mr. Smug’, I will oblige.”
Darken pretended to think it over. “No. I actually like it when you say my name, Alex.”
Again that way he said her name, husky, with a hint of suggestiveness, like wrapping her in silk cords. Alex’s pulse fluttered against her will. She sucked in a breath, but the air in the room had grown too thin. As if she were standing on the top of a mountain: one wrong step and she would fall—or she would be able to touch the sky.
No guts, no glory!
“Look, sugar, I was wondering—” She swallowed. Sweet Jester, why did this have to be so difficult?
Darken’s lips curved. “Yes?”
“I—”
A rumpling sound came from the corridor. Their heads swiveled toward the door in unison, and a moment later, Hector wheeled a loaded tea wagon into the room.
For a second, Alex could have gladly killed the old butler.
The tea wagon came to a creaking halt in front of the couch table.
Darken was suddenly completely engrossed in his papers again, his face halfway hidden behind the gossamer sheets. The man had to have some shaper blood in him, no normal human could move that quickly.
Alex stared straight ahead, her face burning as if she’d sat too close to a fire.
Hector’s gaze swept between them for a long, uncomfortable second, before he bowed slightly.
“Your ginger tea, miss.”
Damn! Alex had completely forgotten that she’d asked the butler for tea the last time he’d checked on her. Oh well, it wasn’t his fault he’d come at such an inconvenient moment.
She forced a smile. “Thank you, Hector.”
The old man smiled back, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his light gray eyes. “You are very welcome, miss.”
He set the cups and a steaming pot down on the table, adding a big plate of freshly-baked cookies.
Alex’s mouth watered. Mhhhm, double chocolate chip.
Once Hector had realized chocolate chip cookies were her absolute favorite, they were among the daily treats much more often than not. The old man was shockingly observant in that regard; sometimes it was almost a little frightening. Still, Alex had come to enjoy the easy familiarity he treated her with. He was the only servant of the family she felt really comfortable around.
Hector bent down and filled one of the cups with tea. “Rumor has it
that Lord Roukewood is planning to host some kind of special event at his estate in the week after next. A confidante of mine, who is also friends with one of the senator’s cooks, told me that they are already making preparations for a big dinner.”
An event, huh? Well, that was neither here nor there. For all they knew, Roukewood could just be hosting a vanilla dinner party. Or the Master could be meeting with his flunkies for a tactical meeting.
“If you wish, I can try to find out more about it,” Hector said, putting the teapot back on its coaster.
Alex wasn’t quite sure when the old man had become part of their investigation team. It had simply happened. Not a bad thing, either, because he had a lot more skills than met the eye. Plus, he had his own share of helpful connections.
“We would highly appreciate it,” Darken said, still holding the papers like some sort of shield.
The butler glanced once more from him to Alex, who tried not to fidget too much in her seat.
He cleared his throat. “If that is everything, I will retire for a while. My joints have been troubling me lately, and I could use some rest.”
True? Or just a subtle message that he wouldn’t disturb them any further? Nothing in his expression suggested a double meaning. Still, Alex wouldn’t put it past the old butler to have read their body language correctly and to have a suspicion about what was going on in this room.
“Of course.” Darken nodded. “I’ll also make sure to ask Josepha if she has some kind remedy for you.”
“That would be most welcome, sir.”
Then again, maybe he hadn’t picked up on … whatever it was that was going on here.
Alex bit the inside of her cheek. Sweet Jester, she should stop trying to read meaning into fucking everything!
Taking hold of the tea wagon’s handle, Hector trundled his way out of the room.
The moment the butler was through the door frame, Darken lowered the papers, surveying her above their edge with an intense, predatory focus. “You were saying…?”
There was a sharp rap of knuckles on wood. “Knock-knock knickety-knock.”
Alex jumped in her seat. Her head whipped around to the door again. Oh, for the love of—!
Leaning against the doorframe, his leather jacket casually slung over one shoulder, stood one of the hottest male specimen Alex had ever encountered in her life. She would even be tempted to say the hottest, if it weren’t for Darken, who simply brought hot to another level.
The smug, self-satisfied grin on Belaris’ sharp-angled face made you wonder if he’d just had sex—which, knowing Belaris, might just have been the case. He looked like a fallen angel—an angel who had somehow ended up wearing skin-tight black denim pants and metal-tipped designer boots.
He also wore a white t-shirt that molded to his ripped stomach, featuring a wide, grinning mouth with pointed teeth above the slogan ‘You can’t kill them all’, with the ‘t’ in ‘can’t’ crossed out by a bloody red ‘X’.
Belaris’ smirk widened as he took in the scene. “I hope I’m interrupting something?”
Alex felt the heat rushing back into her cheeks. Darken on the other hand, always the smooth operator, seemed completely unflustered. Certainly not as if anything interrupt-worthy had been going on in the room.
He rose with liquid grace, slid around the table and the two men clutched each other in a hearty embrace.
“Belaris! I didn’t expect you. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I was in the area,” Belaris said lightly. “And I thought it would be better not to relay my information through ordinary communication channels.” He meaningfully tapped the side of his nose with one finger.
His gaze went past Darken’s shoulder to Alex, who was still sitting on the couch, trying to get her freaking body under control. He gave her a smoking-hot once-over, taking in her snug, teal-colored blouse and black ankle pants with an appreciative nod.
“And there is the spider! Why, I barely recognized you there, Alex. No wig today? I thought it was rather flattering…”
Alex threw a pillow at him, which he dodged easily. He chuckled. “Still the same snappy little spider, I see. Despite the new clothes.”
Alex gave him a smile of sweetest venom. “You know what they say about fine feathers making fine birds? Well, they never said anything about fine spiders.”
Belaris’ smile was just as wicked. “I was never a big fan of birds, myself. All those feathers and the chirping. Pshaw! I always preferred the critters.” He wiggled his brows. “The more legs the better.”
Alex rolled her eyes at him.
Pretending not to notice her reaction, Belaris approached the table. His face brightened at the sight of the treats. “Does my nose defy me, or do I smell fresh ginger tea? And are those chocolate chip cookies?” His eyes ignited with a greedy light as he watched the plate.
Alex invited him with a sweeping gesture of her hand. “Knock yourself out.”
Belaris flopped down on the couch with all the grace of a potato sack and stuffed his face with about half a dozen cookies before he finally leaned back with a content sigh. “Ahhh, chocolate. One of my favorite sins.” He licked his lips in a manner that made you think of a lot of things, none of them chocolate-related.
“Now, you asked me to do an in-depth check of our good governor—well, ex-governor, I should say, shouldn’t I?—and so that’s what I did.” Belaris took a sip of his tea. “I must say that on first glance, there wasn’t actually anything noteworthy to find. Nothing that would warrant murder, in any case. After all, he was about to go into retirement by the end of the year, and he was rather well-liked—for a politician.” He paused. “No offense to your brother.”
Darken leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t suppose you just came here to tell us that you found out nothing.”
“Not the fool he looks, eh?” Belaris murmured confidentially in Alex’s direction.
A soft growl vibrated from Darken’s lips. Belaris blew him a kiss.
Before he could go on, Josy, who had been working on a project for prep school all day, ambled into the room, distractedly sucking on a strand of her hair. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to—”
She broke off at the sight of Belaris lolling on the sofa beside Alex like some breathing piece of artwork of the Jester’s own making. Her round eyes turned as big as saucers, and her mouth fell open.
Belaris didn’t miss a beat. “Hello there, beautiful,” he purred with a wicked smile that would have made a professional blush.
Josy let out a small gasp and turned scarlet, looking down her pink terrycloth onesie—and her expression became horrified.
Alex bit the tip of her tongue to keep from laughing. She patted the couch on her other side. “Wanna have a seat, sugar?”
Josy took a small step back. “I-I … I just realized that I … forgot to put on my—my slippers,” she stammered hastily, glancing down again. “Be right back!”
She was gone so quickly that if she’d been a cartoon figure, she would have left a dust cloud.
Alex chuckled soundlessly.
Darken cleared his throat and pointed his forefinger at his friend. “Careful whom you call beautiful, Belaris. That’s my baby niece you’re making eyes at.”
Belaris stretched out on the coach in a ripple of muscle, like a tiger after a satisfying meal. The explicit lewdness of the movement put the innocent expression on his face to shame. “I’m confused, man. Would you have preferred me calling her ugly? That might have hurt her feelings…”
“Belaris!”
“Didn’t you want to tell us about Ferhus?” Alex cut in. Sweet Jester, and they said women were easily distracted!
“I did.” Belaris’ face became serious again. He looked at Darken. “Did you know that the Ferhus family is highly indebted?”
“I heard some rumors, nothing explicit.” Darken hiked up his shoulders and grimaced. “That wouldn’t be something a member of the elite would
like to broadcast. Is it bad?”
“Oh, I’d certainly say so. Apparently, Robert’s son-in-law dabbled in speculative financial investment in the past and proved rather bad at it. And when I say bad, I mean abysmal. From what I saw, you could give the man a horse for free and he’d sell the beast at a loss. He just doesn’t have the touch for it.” Belaris frowned. “Ferhus has been cleaning up after him for the past fifteen years. Now, Robert, he’s one disciplined fellow. I went over all of his accounts with a fine-tooth comb. Repayment schedules, installments—always on time, always in the agreed amount. Everything looked exemplary, except for one thing.”
Belaris snuck another cookie and nibbled at it, clearly aiming at driving up the tension.
“About fourteen years ago, our dear Lord Ferhus set up a trust fund for the benefit of his eldest granddaughter Marjolène, who was barely a year old at the time, which was subsequently expanded to his other granddaughters. It’s a fund that nobody but the girls can access when they reach maturity. Over the years, a nice little sum has accumulated there.”
“What’s the big deal?” Alex asked when he reached for another cookie. So Ferhus had set up a trust fund for his girls. Her own sire had done something comparable for her prior to his death—before Auntie Sheila had stolen the money and shipped her off to fend for herself on the streets. “That way he could keep some money safe for the girls without his son-in-law taking it for his newest crackpot investment idea, right?”
“Where does the money in the fund come from?” Darken interrupted.
Josy chose that moment to return. Interestingly, not only had she put on a pair of elegant black slippers, she had also changed into black tights, a rather short, flared skirt and a burgundy silk blouse that playfully accentuated the modest swell of her breasts. She quietly settled on the end of the couch, one leg over the other, gracefully acting as though nothing had happened.
Belaris took the time to give her another come-hither smile which she returned timidly.
Darken harrumphed.
“The money, yes, yes.” Belaris took up the thread again. “Well, this in itself isn’t so peculiar. At the same time at which he set up the trust fund, Ferhus also bought shares in the GemRock Consortium. The fund is fed by the earnings of his company shares.”