Текст книги "Tatterdemalion "

Автор книги: Anah Crow

Соавторы: Dianne Fox
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Aye. Giving a lad a ride towards Sunik.”

Addler lifted the other eyebrow in surprise, but Paole didn’t elaborate on the lie. Let people chatter.

Better that than they learned the truth.

He bought supplies, spread the word he was in town, called in on two of Mathias’s regular patients

and spent time socialising, all the time with his mind half on the brat back at his camp and what mischief he might be up to. When he returned that evening, he was so wound up to expect a problem, that finding the

boy quietly reading and causing no difficulty whatsoever didn’t appease his annoyance at all.

He held out his hand for the book. “Give it to me.”

The boy frowned but handed the volume over without further argument. None of the pages had been

folded over, and Paole could see no food or drink stains on the cover. Normally, this would please him, but his irritation overrode everything. “I didn’t damage it.”

“I told you to mind your tongue.”

Gaelin’s mouth snapped shut. Paole instantly regretted his temper, but he couldn’t apologise to the

boy because that would show weakness. Instead he put the supplies and book away, and tried to calm

down. He was a wreck after a few hours owning this boy. Such a dreadful mistake he’d made.

He fetched a fresh bread roll from his new purchases, thinking to offer that instead of an apology. He

found Gaelin talking to Peni and scratching her jaw. “Leave her alone.”

“I was just—”

“I said, leave her alone!”

Gaelin stepped back at his bellow, and Peni whinnied in distress. Paole closed his eyes and took a

deep breath. He opened his eyes, and held out the bread. “Here. That’ll tide you over until I make supper.”

The boy took the bread and mumbled a wary “thank you”. He made sure to keep well away from Peni

and from Paole both.

Paole walked off. This wouldn’t work. After he finished in town, he’d return to Kivnic and leave

Gaelin there. The slavers would be gone, and the boy would have to fend for himself. He was smart

enough, and there were the mysterious friends he couldn’t bring himself to tell Paole about. They could

help him.

The decision made, he felt calmer. Better to put this stupidity behind him and find another way to

make it through the winters. At least this way he’d only be hurting himself.

Gaelin was back under the tree when he returned, the roll already eaten. Time to make the fire and put

on the beans he’d had soaking. The boy said nothing until Paole had the fire laid and the beans and dried

meat cooking.

“You could leave me that kind of thing to do.”

“No thanks.”

The boy sighed. “My friend has that book. She had one she said was better though, from Uemire.

Hosta’s On Medicinals. Do you know it?” He’d switched to Uemi to ask the question.

Paole answered in Tetu. “One, I don’t read Uemi because I was a child when I was abducted, and two,

stop trying to be nice.”

The boy straightened up, haughty indignation on his pretty features. “I’m not trying. I’m not the one in a bad mood all the time. I enjoyed the book. Sofia used to dose her family, and us. She sometimes read

to us from that book. I didn’t know what it all meant but it sounded interesting. Is that what you do? Make medicine?”

Paole knew better than to answer, but he did anyway. “Yes. I’m a healer, though not certificated. I

have the Healing Sight.”

“Oh, like Raina.” The enthusiasm sounded real. “I was travelling to Grekil with her clan. I thought it

was a rare gift, though.”

“It is.”

Who was this boy? So friendly with Uemiriens, yet possibly in league with slavers. Open about his

friends, but not about his family or his destination. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” he murmured to

himself.

“Because the people who are after me will kill me, you and those who helped me, like my friends.”

Paole narrowed his eyes at the boy. “After you? Have you committed a crime?”

“Only to be born.” He said it with such bitterness, Paole could not believe it was fake. “I’m heir to property someone else wants. If they kill me, nothing stands in their way.”

“But then you could go to the law. The sheriffs or whatever you have in Sardelsa.”

“Not that simple. I really wish I could tell you, but Karvis is…well, the person after me has ties here.”

That made no sense. How much power could one person have? “Now you’re making it up again.”

“No, I’m not. But this is why it’s pointless to talk to you. I have trouble believing it sometimes. I’m

not surprised you do.”

Paole’s determination to rid himself of this boy wavered again. What if he was telling the truth? “If I

set you free, where would you go?”

“To Horches. My friend has relatives there. I’d be safe.”

“I only want the truth, Gaelin. All of it.”

“I know. If I gave you my word to work for you for three years, would you let me go after that?”

Why three years? “Not exactly a bargain for me.”

“I’m sorry, but if I don’t return home then, my sisters will be left to suffer.”

Paole shook his head. “I gave you the deal. It’s more than most masters would offer.”

The boy grimaced. “You’re not being fair.”

“Fairer than anyone treated me at your age. Move back and keep quiet. I have things to do.”

The only way to break free is to let go.

Lynx

© 2010 Joely Skye

In order to protect his shifter kin, FBI agent Trey Walters hides his ability from his employers. For

him, a vacation means a whole midwinter month in the Canadian wilderness, free to live in his wolf skin.

When he happens upon a rare lynx shifter, he’s fascinated. And his protective instincts kick into

overdrive. The young man needs to be shielded from werewolves and humans alike, whether he likes it or

not.

Jonah can hardly wrap his head around the fact that other shifters exist, much less endure the presence

of a stranger in his lonely sanctuary. Blaming himself for his brother’s death, he lives in self-imposed

isolation. Trust? Forget it. Yet Trey’s patience penetrates Jonah’s fear, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall like a rock for the wolf.

Trey hadn’t planned to embark on an intense, passionate affair, but he finds himself vowing to return

after his next undercover mission is over. As months stretch into years, however, Jonah fears that Trey has broken faith with him—or is dead. There’s only one way to find out. Leave the safety of his lair and

venture into a dangerous, deadly world…

Warning: violence, explicit sex.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Lynx:

Jonah had spent a hellish night lying awake, too wound up to sleep and worried that if he did, he’d

have a wet dream with Trey in the same room. Gawd, he and his body’s urges were making himself sick.

“You’re looking a little peaked,” Trey observed.

“I’m fine.” He could barely force his breakfast down, and he was going to have to get out of here,

away from Trey again. Jonah had never seen such a dubious expression on Trey’s face. He tried harder to

pass off his bizarre behavior. “I’m tired, that’s all. Didn’t sleep all that well.”

“Any reason why not?”

“No.” He hunched at the tone of that no, which sounded surly, like he was twelve years old. But God, he wasn’t prepared to explain why. He had no ability to handle this gracefully.

“I think we need to have a talk.”

Jonah’s head shot up, and he stared at Trey, heart beginning to pound hard, worried that somehow

Trey could read his mind.

“Because,” Trey continued, “I’ll be gone in a week, and you’ll still be here. On your own.”

Jonah had been studiously ignoring anything to do with the fact Trey might be departing. He didn’t

see what he could do about it and he didn’t want to think about it. But he said, “Okay.” It came out hoarser

than he would have liked.

“So, I thought we should talk about strategies that could make you a little more comfortable with your

life.”

Jonah nodded. What the fuck was he supposed to say? There was silence, Jonah stared at his fists.

Maybe it would be better when Trey was gone. At least he’d get away from this stupid tension gripping

him.

“All right.” Jonah pulled in a breath and met Trey’s too-sharp gaze. “But I don’t see what I can say

about you leaving.”

“This isn’t about my leaving, it’s about you.” Trey pulled up the bench so he faced Jonah sitting on

the cot, their knees close but not touching. “First off, I’d like to come back here.”

“When?” Jonah said too quickly.

But Trey didn’t smile at his eagerness or his, let’s face it, desperation. In fact he looked more serious.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know when. It could be months, it could be more than a year. Longer, if I’m

unlucky.”

When Jonah didn’t respond—his heart was sinking over that amount of time, even if a part of him was

gratified that Trey wanted to come back—Trey reached over, wrapped a hand around Jonah’s knee and

gave it a shake, as if he was encouraging Jonah. He felt the warmth of Trey’s palm through his long johns.

He had kept on a long flannel shirt to hide any unwanted reaction to Trey, which was, God help him,

starting again.

“Jonah, I’d like you to actually tell me a little about what’s going on inside your head.”

“Well, Trey,” began Jonah, irritated by the tone Trey was taking and irritated by himself for

responding so sexually to what was a friendly gesture. “I’m thinking a year is a fucking long time. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

“It’s great to hear anything when you’re trying to get a conversation going.” Trey dipped his head

slightly so Jonah had to meet his gaze. He didn’t want to meet that gaze which saw too much, but he

couldn’t resist. Trey continued, “Of course it’s a long time. Too long. I’m concerned about it. If I don’t get back before the summer, you need to go down to the town where you buy supplies and mingle a little

more.”

“Mingle,” Jonah repeated in disbelief.

“It’s not healthy for you to stay alone up here all the time. You’ve done great for three years, but you

can’t keep pushing it.”

“Mingle?” The anger was building and he set his jaw when he looked at Trey. “That’s unsafe. I need

to get in and I need to get out.”

“That’s your mother talking and I understand why—”

“You understand nothing,” Jonah seethed. “You come in here, live with me for a few days, and before

you take off you think you can tell me what I need to do to stay healthy?”

Trey looked annoyed, which normally would have upset Jonah, but not once he’d lost his temper.

“Grow up and learn to listen to someone who has something useful to tell you.”

That’s it. Jonah stood, partly to get away from Trey who was too close and too warm and too intent.

“You’re a tourist, passing by and impressed by my woodsman-style life, and then you’re gone. I don’t need

your advice. And I’d like to end this less-than-helpful conversation.”

Trey stood too, stepped towards him, when Jonah wanted more of his own space. But he would not

back up, give way. Trey, however, had gone all earnest again, not intimidating, and that made it worse

because some of Jonah’s anger faded and he was left with an awful yearning that made it hard to breathe.

“I am not a tourist. Like you, I’m a shapeshifter and I’ve done my share of living in the wild. And I

will tell you that shapeshifters don’t do well if they remain isolated.”

“You’re a wolf. A pack animal. I’m not. It’s hard to be around you at times.”

Instead of being shocked by this information, or offended, Trey’s expression gentled, as if he

understood that Jonah was attracted to him, which, Jesus, maybe he did. Jonah’s face flushed deep red and

he found he needed to get out of here, forget about standing his ground with Trey, forget about not giving

way. As Jonah attempted to pass by, a hand wrapped around his upper arm and he couldn’t reach the door.

He tried to shake off Trey’s grip.

Trey held on. “Uh-uh. You’re not going out there to freeze your ass off again. You did that yesterday,

remember?”

Through clenched teeth, Jonah said, “Let me go. I need some fresh air.”

“For God’s sakes, fresh air is about the last thing you need. I’ve never met someone who had so much

fresh air in their life.”

“Let. Me. Go.” Jonah was ready to snarl.

Trey slowly released his hold, and with some dignity, Jonah stepped towards the door, careful not to

act like he was bolting. He still needed to get outside. But when he reached for the handle, Trey’s hand

slammed down on the door, keeping it closed.

“Not today, Jonah,” he said softly, and there was something beguiling about the voice, a little huskier

than normal though maybe Jonah’s imagination was making that up. If Trey only knew what was going on

in his mind, he would be pushing Jonah out the door not holding the door shut.

Jonah stared at the hand, large and broad, powerful. Like Trey himself. He wanted to stay here, to be

honest, to spend as much time as possible with Trey before he vanished, but it wasn’t possible with these

feelings of longing, of desire. Bowing his head, he waited it out, though what exactly he was waiting for, he didn’t know. He felt like a condemned man.

“Jonah,” Trey murmured.

A shiver raced through Jonah and he couldn’t speak.

“Trust me a little, okay?” With that Trey ran a palm down Jonah’s spine, once, twice.

It was intoxicating, that caress, and though Trey did it to reassure him, not to arouse him, Jonah’s

body didn’t understand that. Jonah’s body refused to flee, it shuddered under Trey’s touch, and Trey felt it all and didn’t stop. So despite all of Jonah’s fears, he leaned towards Trey. When Trey didn’t back away,

when Trey stood strong as if ready to take Jonah’s weight, he nestled in Trey’s arm, asking for a hug that

was easily given, and Jonah buried his face into the crook between Trey’s shoulder and neck.

An awful relief flowed through him, like he’d been starving and hadn’t realized it. The knowledge

that Trey would have to push him away, and soon, didn’t stop Jonah from lifting an arm and hugging Trey

back. Still he was careful to keep his body angled away so Trey wouldn’t feel his erection.

“All right” was all Trey said, in that reassuring way of his, and even if he seemed resigned, he

sounded…affectionate. That was a good sign, right? Maybe Jonah wouldn’t wreck everything that lay

between them. They stood there for the longest time, Trey endlessly patient, until Jonah’s breathing came

under control. All the while Trey repeated his assurance that it was all right, that Jonah was fine.

Eventually, because it wasn’t in Jonah to end this, Trey set him slightly apart, and Jonah could feel his

gaze on him while he stared at the door he’d tried to escape through.

Trey cleared his throat, the noise more amused than embarrassed. “This wasn’t what I planned, for all

kinds of reasons, and I’m willing to explain some of them, but…you’ve convinced me we need to take care

of you.”

Despite being puzzled by Trey’s words and by the suggestive tone of his voice, Jonah couldn’t look

up and see what was on Trey’s face. Not quite yet.

Then ever so lightly, Trey passed a hand over Jonah’s rock-hard but flannel-covered erection. He

would have jumped twenty meters, except Trey’s arm around his shoulders held him steadily in place so he

jerked under Trey’s hold. When he lifted his eyelashes to look at Trey, there wasn’t censure or anger on the wolf’s face. Just a strange openness Jonah had never seen before.

Then Trey smiled.

Desire. Destruction. Destiny.

Ghost Star Night

© 2009 Nicole Kimberling

Thomas Myrdin knows that intrigue is part of life at court, but that doesn’t make his king’s betrayal

any easier to take. Yet heartbreak troubles him less than the apocalyptic visions that haunt him. Fiery

premonitions that show the world burning in ruins—and the cause, the king’s daughter. Visions and

vengeance awaken a strange new power within him, but not even he is sure if he is the kingdom’s savior,

the king’s pawn.

Lord Adam Wexley harbors a secret longing for the elegant Thomas, but his duty is to protect the

newborn princess. When a sudden threat arises, Adam seeks to procure services of Grand Magician

Zachary Drake. Even if it means sacrificing his own soul—and his body.

Drake has seen the worst of kings and courtiers. Now he protects himself with powerful sorcery and

the adamant refusal to affiliate with any of the Four Courts. But the grand magician isn’t without

weaknesses and Adam may be the one enticement that could draw him to ruin.

In a rising storm of magic with the power to strip away men’s souls, the thread of desire connecting

three men could be the kingdom’s last lifeline…

Warning: This story contains men, magic, man-on-man moments, orangutans speaking in sign

language, beehive hairdos and an army of soulless janitors that seeks to destroy them all.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Ghost Star Night:

“Your hands must be tired,” Drake said.

Adam looked up and caught a hesitant, but definitely sensual smile playing across the other man’s

lips. The idea that the magician had a sexual interest in him began to form in his mind. Unlike the other

magicians he’d met, Drake’s face was not inscrutable. To him, Drake seemed almost shy, although how

that could be possible was a mystery.

“They are a little tired.” Adam set his guitar aside and focused his attention on his host. He still

looked as scary as ever. Slim black shirt and trousers. Boots with silver filigree tips. Silver rings. But now Adam noticed a subtle cologne, the glossiness of his hair. His smooth jaw.

Drake had shaved for him. Adam could see that his direct attention made Drake nervous because that

hesitant look returned.

Suddenly Adam found himself in much more familiar territory. Indeed, he began to consider the

possibility that guitar playing was not the activity that Drake most hoped Adam would engage in during his

visit to the Black Tower. This changed everything.

While he was good at playing guitar, Adam’s true excellence resided in the area of lovemaking. He

smiled and offered his hands to Drake who took them, sliding his own long, thin fingers across the surface

of his palms.

The doorbell rang again. And again. It rang at one-second intervals for a half-minute.

Drake’s face revealed his emotions. First, that he definitely wanted to continue to explore more of

Adam’s skin, and second, that he was annoyed by the doorbell and that Adam should do something about

it.

“Would you like me to tell them to go away?” Adam asked.

“Since my servant is away, thank you,” Drake said. Adam stood and pressed the button for the

elevator intercom.

“Grand Magician Drake is not accepting guests this evening.” When he lifted his thumb off the

button, the only sound to come through the speaker was a barrage of barking. He looked to Drake who

immediately ran his diamond around the rim of his glass. The crystal glass sang out that clear, resonant

note that directly precedes shattering. A fresh round of barking drowned out the sound.

Adam turned back, in bewilderment, to the speaker.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” As he spoke Adam heard Drake’s glass shatter.

“Don’t send him away!” Drake ran from the patio and slammed his hand onto the oval button that

started the elevator moving up. Adam stepped back from Drake, baffled by the sudden reversal. Drake

smiled at him in what looked like a feeble attempt at reassurance. “I believe I know that dog.”

Drake pulled the front door open and lunged into the foyer. The lighted display above the elevator

indicated the car had reached the tenth floor, then the eleventh.

Drake’s expression was one Adam had never seen outside a movie theater—a sort of agony of hope.

Adam’s only thought was that Drake was not the sort of man who he’d imagined as having such an

intensely emotional relationship with a dog, and by the sound of the bark, a small one. He could see Drake

having affection for an albino python, maybe, or a raven. But to Adam, love of a cuddly pooch did not jibe

with Drake’s spider-shaped ring. The thought that he might have judged another man’s character on fashion

accessories alone generated a grimy, shallow shame in Adam. Briefly, the notion crossed Adam’s mind that

the dog was inhabited, but by who?

An ex-lover? Certainly the expression on Drake’s face communicated the importance of the dog,

whoever it was.

Whoever it was, he wouldn’t be happy to find Adam here, certainly.

This evening should be over, he thought, and aloud he said, “Perhaps I should go,” but the grand

magician didn’t answer.

Above the elevator the number thirteen lit up and the doors slid open.

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