Geared for Pleasure (31 page)

She told him not to be nervous. That her pheromones would ease his tension. Take away his hesitation. They had. She had been gentle. Instructive. And when she left the next morning, he had felt more an unready boy than he had been before.

She had been his first, but by no means his last.

For some reason it was a fact the guards of the Siren, many of whom had decided to take him under their wing, chose not to believe. They thought him an innocent half-breed who’d saved up to escape and hoped to be fucked. It was a belief that had served Cyrus well, other than their constant attempts to fill him with drink and offer him women.

He meant to resist, to keep up his shy pretense until they arrived at the port Commander Iacchus had specified. Once the older man boarded the Siren, Cyrus would complete his mission and return home.

He had not counted on Seraphina.

The instant he saw her, he had known she would bedevil him. She strutted about in her revealing costume, her red hair tousled and her Felidae markings uncovered for all to see. She’d slipped into a nobleman’s lap long enough to steal his drink and kiss the woman who had been given to him for the night. Titillating and dangerous.

She’d caught his stare and he saw the interest flicker in her brilliant green eyes. That interest had turned to disbelief the first time he had turned her down, determination the second. The third time… the third time he had given in—on
his
terms.

Seraphina had allowed him to take her over that night. Everyone
on this boat but Wulf and Hadi knew how she had repaid her temporary capitulation.

It was odd that the memory no longer filled him with the rage it had only days before. Not for her.

Not only did he not make his rendezvous, but the dagger he was to deliver—the safety of which meant so much to the queen—had disappeared with his other belongings.

The Khepri had told him the dagger now lay in the private rooms of the false queen. That the one who had taken Queen Idony had also attempted to remove Cyrus as a threat. It was
he
who had charged the cult with building the monstrosity in the Avici desert, he who had stolen the dagger.

Seraphina had nothing to do with it, and no knowledge of the plot.

The Khepri emphasized the dagger’s importance. If the queen were to be saved and restored to power, he’d insisted in the florid missive, Cyrus needed to get the dagger back into the right hands. His hands.

More than Idony’s life was in danger, it seemed. Though that was enough. Theorrey and its rule were being challenged at the core. Something dark was looming.

He had told Captain Amaranthe, who was either disturbed by her own letter or still nursing antagonistic feelings over his treatment of Dare. Whatever the Khepri said to her, it must have coincided with his command, because he had met her as she was on her way to helm’s deck to have Freeman change the Deviant’s course.

They were pausing in their search for Tower Orr and turning back to Centre City.

Now, so close to returning to the palace that had been his home for most of his life, he found he needed Dare. He needed the Chalice to accept his apology. To feel the sincerity of it inside him.

She had proven herself to the Wode in him, loved the man in
him, and had never wavered in her loyalty, despite the truths she had been stunned by since this began.

They had all underestimated her. Even, may she forgive him for thinking it, Queen Idony.

The knock at his bedroom door made him wince in surprise and the basin tipped to fall on the floor. Water splashed on his boots. “Damn. Come in.”

The wooden door creaked open and he saw the small, feminine figure silhouetted in the hallway. “Cyrus?”

That she hesitated, said his name with that much doubt in her voice, made him ache with regret. “Dare, I’m glad you came. I have wanted to talk to you. To say—”

“I know.” Dare came in and closed the door behind her. “You’ve not been suppressing your feelings the way you did inside the palace. In fact, on occasion, I would prefer it if you did not think so loudly, but I do understand. You are forgiven.”

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and gazed about the room, a forlorn expression on her face. “I just… I truly thought I knew her. Knew you. All this is a surprise to me. Each day, each fresh revelation has left me feeling—”

“Lost?” Cyrus stepped toward her, heedless of his damp, bare torso, and pulled her into his arms. “As am I. Dare, we are soaring through the air with the birds, with a crew that already shows and owes its loyalty to you. You have, without any help from me, brought us all together. It’s who you are on an elemental level. Who you’ve always been. I am the odd man out. The cog that serves no purpose.”

She shook her head. “It was all chance. Circumstance.”

He laughed, but there was little humor in it. “Was it? I am beginning to wonder if there is such a thing. The island Felidae believe that there is a destiny, a path to which you are drawn. One that supersedes the caste you are born to, or the family. Maybe this is your special path. Where your gifts have brought you.”

She pulled back and looked up into his eyes, her own wide and unsure. “Brought
us
, Cyrus. This is your path as well as mine. I thought you dead. When you wandered into our camp whistling that ridiculous tune—” Her lower lip trembled. “I was so thankful.”

He cupped her chin with his fingertips. “Have I ruined our friendship, then? No one could or should forgive me for letting this happen. For failing my post. But I fear I would be unsalvageable if I were unable to redeem myself in your eyes.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Are you still keeping things from me? Protecting me?”

He refused to look away. “Yes. But only at the queen’s command. Until you are ready. Until it’s time.”

“I can feel her now.” Dare’s voice was soft. Far away. “She is safe for the moment, but worried for us.”

“You can
feel
her?” Cyrus studied her in surprise, then smiled. Her abilities must be growing. “I am glad. That means I still have time.”

Dare pulled herself from his embrace and clenched her fists. “
We
have time. We. I have killed now, Cyrus. Shed blood. What more should I do to prove to you I am Wode? That I am just as capable as the captain or Phina or you. Better, it has been said, than many who are twice my size. And I feel her because—”

“I have no doubt in your abilities,” he interrupted her. “I also know you did not enjoy it, even when it was necessary. That you felt no small jolt of pleasure when justice was served to your enemy. That you grieved instead for the loss of life. Grief is dangerous. Makes you hesitate.”

“What shield guard
would
find pleasure in that way?”

The door opened again and Cyrus sighed, seeing Bodhan standing there with a grim expression. He’d been listening through the door. “Every Wode I have ever met but you, princess.”

Dare grimaced apologetically before turning to face Bodhan, but
Cyrus saw the burst of relief and pleasure that lit her gaze at his arrival. He was glad she had someone who did that for her. Brought her joy. She had more than earned it. It did make him envious. He was no longer needed.

“I told you I wanted to talk to him alone.”

Bodhan shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb lazily, the clasp for his holster purposefully undone. “And I told you that I respected your wants, my love. However, I am still not sure the Sword is over his bout of… shall we call it melancholy? I know he will respect my desire to protect you. It is, as you have assured me, his nature as well.”

Cyrus noticed Bodhan’s eerily colored gaze light on the damp spots on her jacket. Then on
his
bare chest. He shook his head, reaching for the clean shirt that Freeman had brought with the other supplies. “By all means, enter before I lose control and grovel her into the pyre.”

Bodhan smirked and walked toward them, closing the door solidly with his boot heel. “Was he groveling, Dare? I am sorry I missed that.”

Dare crossed her arms again in agitation. “I’m beginning to understand the captain’s antipathy toward men. That is, if all of you cause this much aggravation.”

Cyrus watched as Bodhan pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. “We have talents that make up for it. You know we do.”

He looked away when his lifetime companion melted into the cocky man’s embrace, gazing instead out the window. He caught a glint of light in the distance. “We are getting close. The copper domes are coming into view.”

Dare’s tone was concerned behind him. “Captain Amaranthe told me about your message. Your’s and Phina’s. I know it has to be done but I am worried. Queen’s Hill is no longer safe for any of us.”

Seraphina. The captain had informed him this morning that
they would have to work together. Apparently they both had instructions that required reconnaissance and retrieval inside the palace. Despite her obvious abilities, he hated the idea of her diving into danger. He chose not to consider why. However, it was clear arguing the point would be unwise and fruitless. Captain Amaranthe was a woman bound to have her way. He respected that. Respected her. It was, after all, her ship. And no one could stop Seraphina.

He turned back to them and smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Dare. I am the Queen’s Sword. The men at the gate know me well. Seraphina may have a harder time of it.”

Dare bit her lip. “She told me she’s done it a dozen times over the years. But neither of you have had to face a woman who wears the queen’s face but is not the queen. You will have to craft your words and reactions with care.”

His smile hardened. “I know exactly what to do. You will see me when I return, with the dagger, long before our Felidae.”

Bodhan lifted one dark brow in interest. “Care to wager on that, Arendal?”

Dare sent him a telling look. “Are you sure you want to do that? Until a few hours ago, you thought Phina had taken the dagger, even when I told you she hadn’t. And last night Freeman beat your move at a game he has never played. Luck has not been on your side of late.”

Bodhan’s expression was confident. “My love, with you, luck is always on my side. Besides, we are discussing Seraphina Felidae and her talent for escape. My odds have never been better.”

Cyrus refused to admit that he agreed with the man. He also refused to make the wager. He had not lost all his faculties. Yet.

This was a disguise. It did not define her. She was not this person anymore.

Phina studied herself in the beveled mirror in her room, her shiny bracelet off once more, lying on the table beside her. The knot in her stomach made her want to howl. To scratch someone’s eyes out. To do something wild, anything wild, to make the feelings disappear. To make this old identity disappear.

Seri the slave. Younger sister to Nephi, Jobi, Eli, and Nob. All born to work in the mines. Lower in stature than the factory Felidae who lived among them in the settlement.

Nephi once told her that they were named for the old angels and the great chosen in human myth, though everyone used a shortened version. Phina had never been able to ask their mother why they had been given such big names for such small lives, since the woman died a few days after she was born.

Her brothers had blamed her, but Phina had long since deduced that it had to do with her mother being put back to work the day after her new baby was born.

Born wrong
. Phina sucked in her cheeks and glared at her reflection. Her life certainly hadn’t started out well. But she had more than made up for her lack these past years. She had
lived
. She had thrived knowing her eldest sister, the unconditionally patient and loving Nephi, was safe with the queen.

The Khepri’s message was simple and clear. Nephi was no longer safe.

Phina smeared the black soot more artistically across her cheek, her chin as defiant as the wild shoots of bright red hair framing her face.

A dingy gray woven shirt with long sleeves and a pair of shapeless pants, their hem tucked into black buckle-less boots, covered her body. Concealed her figure from view.

It was a Felidae’s nature to stand out. Their colorful eyes and hair, the unique patterns of their markings, were all indicators that their bodies were meant to be seen. But for miners, attracting attention
was not a priority. In fact, with the type of Wode they sent to guard the entrances to the settlement and the factory, it was better to go unnoticed.

Safer.

She picked up the
ton
sticks Freeman had made for her the first time she had done this, and twirled their short handles in her hands. She may not be bringing her attention-drawing weapons with her, but she would never go completely unarmed. She swung them a few times, loving the balance and flow of the smooth wood, before tucking them in the empty belt loops of her pants. Their weight brought her comfort.

The sounds of the engines had changed. She could easily hear the ugly churning growl of the steam power making the transition to the near-silent hum of theorrite as they moved closer to civilization. Almost time.

She grabbed the knit cap that would conceal her hair until she was as indistinguishable as any of the others who lived in their drab community. Only her claws had grown back, and she meant for them to stay sharp.

He was in the hall. Cyrus. He’d obviously just come from his own room. Phina heard Dare and Bodhan climbing the stairs that led to the deck above and knew they were talking about her and Cyrus. What they had to do.

Cyrus wore a pristine white shirt, well fitted across his broad shoulders, dark brown pants that clung to his lean hips and muscular thighs, and military boots. Draped over his forearm was a worn-looking hooded cape. To indicate a long journey spent in hiding, she assumed.

The Sword planned to walk right through the front gates and into the Copper Palace. Phina had a more roundabout way inside, but his way held more peril. Each step could be blocked. Wode could have been instructed to imprison him. The members of the Raj, or
whoever was behind this treason, could easily lay a trap for him to fall into.