Katie MacAlister - Playing with Fire

‘‘I don’t suppose you’re open to bribes?’’ I asked, ignoring the charm he was so clearly trying to wield upon me.

That took him by surprise for a few seconds. ‘‘What did you have in mind?’’

I ran a mental accounting of my checkbook, disregarding both it and my credit cards-Magoth didn’t mind paying my travel expenses when necessary, but he certainly didn’t pay well for the rest of my services-then musing for a few moments on the amulet, which was tucked away under my left breast in the inner pocket of my leather bodice, but I dismissed the thought almost immediately. I hadn’t been strafed by lasers and given myself a concussion just to hand over the amulet to the first thief taker who managed to grab me.

Which left only one thing I had with which to barter my freedom. I toyed with the leather laces of my bodice. ‘‘What about me?’’

His eyes opened wide at that, his gaze turning calculating as he examined me thoroughly from my toes to my crown. ‘‘What would your wyvern say to that offer?’’

I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat at the thought of having sex with Savian. ‘‘This has nothing to do with him. It’s between you and me.’’

‘‘Indeed it is,’’ he said, taking a couple of steps closer to me. I forced myself to stand where I was, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.

‘‘You’re positively rank, woman. You reek of things I don’t really want to name.’’

‘‘Thank you. There’s just nothing like being told you smell like a sewer to make a woman feel wanted.’’

He laughed. ‘‘Hmm. Despite your current state, I have to admit I’m very tempted. Beneath all that muck you’re really quite lovely, in a silent movie sort of way.’’ He reached out to touch my hair. I had to steel my arms to stay at my side, not flinching when he trailed a finger down my jawline. ‘‘ Very tempted. Oh, what the hell, you only live once.’’

He turned back to the door, opening it to call something out to the official who was approaching with a clipboard.

I tried to calm the gorge rising within me, but my repulsion must have been evident, for when Savian turned back around he burst into laughter. ‘‘Good lord, woman, you look like you’ve been asked to do the most heinous things imaginable to babies. I take it you’ve had a change of heart about your offer?’’

I slumped into one of the three wooden chairs, which, along with a small table, were the room’s only furnishings. ‘‘I’m sorry. I thought I could do it, but I just can’t.’’

Savian looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘‘Is it me? Or are you in love with the wyvern?’’

‘‘I’m not in love with anyone,’’ I muttered, my forehead resting on my hands as I hunched over the table, unsure of whether I should cry or laugh at the ludicrous situation I found myself in.

‘‘Then it’s me? You don’t find me… dashing? Attractive, in a roguish sort of way? Kind of a cross between Han Solo and MacGyver?" Savian asked, a note of worry in his voice.

I looked up, a smile twitching my lips. He looked almost devastated. ‘‘No, you’re very Han Solo. It’s just… well, I did promise to be Gabriel’s mate, and I know it’s silly to take fidelity seriously these days, but I guess I’m just one of those people who is faithful whether they want to be or not.’’

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘‘He’s a lucky dragon. Was there anything else you wanted to try to bribe me with? Or was that it?’’

‘‘That’s it,’’ I said, wiping back a few tears of hilarity that had squeezed out of my eyes.

‘‘Ah, well. Perhaps another time you might have a priceless gold treasure hidden upon your lovely person.’’

My gaze shot to his, but he was already back at the door, calling for the official.

‘‘This won’t take-’’

Suddenly he was jerked out of the door. I leaped up, racing for freedom, but shrieked when the doorway was suddenly filled with a large, hulking man with dirty dark hair, shrewd eyes, and a wicked-looking scar that started beneath his eye and curved down to his earlobe. ‘‘-long,’’ the man said, his lips curling up in a smile as he clamped one hand around my wrist, my bones protesting as he yanked me out the door after him.

‘‘Who the hell are you?’’ I asked, trying desperately to free myself. To the right I saw a small group of people bent over a prone form, one person on a radio obviously calling for medical aid. ‘‘And what did you do to Savian?’’

The surly man tightened his hold on my wrist until I howled my protest, beating on his arm to let go of me. ‘‘Stop your bitching or I’ll stop it for you! Here.’’ He thrust an identification card at a customs official who hurriedly backed out of the way.

‘‘Help!’’ I yelled, trying to simultaneously claw the man’s grip off my wrist and twist myself free. ‘‘I’m being kidnapped! Someone help me! He-’’

The last thing I remember before a white pain exploded in my head was the man turning toward me, his fist raised. After that, blissful darkness claimed me, welcoming me with a familiar comfort. I wandered the pathways of the shadow world for a bit, that place between realities that few can reach, and fewer can leave once they get there. It was a dreamworld, a place of sanctuary for those for whom reality had become too much, and I was tempted for a few moments to just remain there, safe from the pain and strife that made up my world. But the image of Gabriel’s bright eyes rose in my mind, the memory of his burning kisses stirring the slumbering embers of my desire.

A cold shock of water dragged me out of the shadow world and back into my body. I sputtered and choked, rolling off my back and into a sitting position as I wiped water from my face. ‘‘Agathos daimon!’’

‘‘You will please to come to the chamber,’’ a voice said with a complete lack of emotion. I shook the water from my eyes well enough to see the slight young man speaking.

‘‘Who are you? And where am I?’’

‘‘I am Tej, apprentice to Monish Lakshmanan. This is Paris.’’

‘‘Paris,’’ I groaned, getting painfully to my feet. The laser burns had long since healed, but my wrist was still sore and discolored. The scene with the thief taker and the dark-haired brutish man rushed back. ‘‘What happened to the thief taker?’’

‘‘Porter? He’s claiming his reward. You must please to come this way.’’

I staggered out of the small room, taking quick glances around me to look for an escape. Our footsteps echoed down a long hallway dotted with occasional chairs and small tables. ‘‘Where exactly in Paris?’’ I asked my escort.

‘‘Suffrage House,’’ he answered.

My spirits dropped. Suffrage House was the mansion of a long-dead suffragette, bought by the L’au-delà, and now used as their headquarters. Although I’d been locked in a small, dark room that was clearly used as a holding cell since it contained no furniture whatsoever, I had to admit that I’d been in much worse places.

‘‘Who’s Monish Lakshmanan?’’ I asked, sliding an appraising glance at Tej. He appeared to be Indian, his soft brown eyes watching me warily as we walked down a long gold and white hallway.

‘‘Monish is an oracle, and a member of the watch.’’

Oh, wonderful. The watch was the police force of the L’au-delà, and their members were not people with whom I ever desired to cross paths. ‘‘I hate to do nothing but ask questions, but where are we going?’’

‘‘The almoner’s chamber. You must make a phone call, yes?’’

He threw open a door to what appeared to be an office containing four desks, three of which were occupied by women who bore all the appearances of secretaries.