Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (38 page)

Dash angled around the bed and clapped a hand against his brother’s shoulder. “One day, you’re probably going to kick my ass for that.” Counting on it, he strode from the room.

Chapter Thirty

By some miracle, Mara arrived in Hagee before sunset and without wrecking the Cloud Chaser. If she weren’t dead on her feet from exhaustion, she would have patted herself on the back for both accomplishments. Instead, she stumbled out of the vehicle and made her way to the dockmaster’s station.

She stepped inside the corroded, metal-sided building and a noxious cloud of pipe smoke burned her throat. Choking back a cough, she surveyed the cramped interior. Behind a desk piled high with charts, maps and various logbooks sat the dirtiest inhabitant in all Aurion. Seriously, the man looked like he hadn’t seen soap or water in the past decade.

He shoved his spectacles down his hooked nose and squinted at her. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Clearly he wouldn’t win any congeniality contests in the near future. “Are you the dockmaster?” At the man’s terse nod, she approached the paper-strewn desk. “I need you to contact Captain Borgander and let him know I’m ready for pickup. He’s supposed to return me to Volto harbor.”

After much grouching, the dockmaster picked up a small communicator with the word
Locati-link
stamped on the front of it. “Sea Surfer, do you copy?”

Garbled static preceded Sig Borgander’s response. “Aye, I’m here.”

“There’s a human wench taking up space in my office. Says you’re to ferry her to Volto.”

“Must be Nalia Artronté’s girl. Tell her I’ll be there by dawn’s break.”

“No, I need him now—” Mara glared when the dockmaster yanked open a desk drawer and tossed the
Locati-link
inside. “You could have at least asked him if he could get here sooner than morning.”

The dockmaster made a loud hacking noise that should have cleared every trace of phlegm from his sinuses. “Told you I was busy, didn’t I?”

She opened her mouth.
Oh what’s the use?
Arguing with Crabby Pants would be futile. She bit her tongue and walked out of the building. During the brief time she’d been haggling over her return passage, the sun had disappeared behind Mount Vire. She quickened her pace and returned to the Cloud Chaser. It didn’t take much to convince her to choose the backseat over any vermin-infested bed she might or might not be able to rent in the area.

The minute her body touched the seat, a massive wave of fatigue rolled through her limbs. Curling her knees towards her stomach, she dug inside the valise sandwiched between the console and backseat, looking for something to use as a makeshift blanket. Her fingers brushed soft linen. She pulled out the shirt Dash had wrapped her in after wishing her naked. “I must have accidentally packed it with my things.”

Her hand fisted the fabric. She started to shove the shirt back inside the valise but hesitated when she caught the subtle woodsy note drifting from the linen. Though it was a poor substitute for Dash, she wrapped the shirt around her shoulders. Tomorrow she’d dispose of it in case Nalia decided to rifle through her belongings.

She closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she drifted into a heavy sleep plagued with dreams of pine-scented fae thieves and choices left untaken.

When morning came, her head pounded from lack of decent sleep and her neck suffered the mother of all cricks, but she was relieved to see the Sea Surfer docked in its slip. She shuffled up the gangplank and politely declined when one of the deckhands offered to stow her valise.

“Where’s the rest of your party?”

Mara spun around. Holding a hand against her racing heart, she stared at Captain Borgander. She felt like an idiot for being so jumpy, but better to get it out of her system before facing Nalia and Finian. “It’s only me this time.”

Borgander gave a disinterested grunt before returning to his post in the ship’s wheelhouse. Hugging her valise against her side, Mara ventured to the lounge situated mid-deck. She spotted the computerized communicator hanging between two portholes and took a deep breath.

“Might as well get this over and done with.” She trudged to the communicator and punched in the link to Nalia’s aerocoach. When Ronan didn’t answer the sync alert she left him a message to pick her up in Volto’s shipyard before day’s end. With that important task finished, she crossed to the bank of chairs and slumped into the nearest one.

The four visio screens suspended on the opposite wall popped on, momentarily distracting her. The middle screen displayed coverage of the free-trade protest they’d encountered on the way to the inn outside Volto. It appeared that while her life had turned upside down, the outside world continued its own struggles. The realization sat heavy in her heart.

Several horn blasts rent the air, announcing their departure. She slouched in the seat and pillowed her head against her arm. The journey ahead would be long and tiring—might as well try to get some rest while she could.

She must have dozed for a few minutes when suddenly a prickling awareness shivered over her skin, snapping her fully awake. Someone else was in the lounge. She cracked an eye open and yelped when a pale, wrinkled face swam into focus.

“Did you have a nice sleep?”

Mara gaped at the withered crone stooped in front of her. The woman wore the same voluminous white cape from the previous sea crossing, but the bird claws were absent today. “Um…yes.”

“Good. You’ll need your strength and wit for what faces you.”

Grabbing the arms of the chair, Mara struggled to an upright position. “What are you talking about?” She jumped from her seat when the woman swiveled and faced the wall of visio screens. “How do you know all these things about me?”

Rather than answer, the woman clucked her tongue at the screaming protestors on the center screen. “It seems no matter how many centuries pass, some things never change.” She gave an impatient wave of her arm. “Makes me wonder why we didn’t just populate the world with braying asses and be done with it.”

Mara stared at the smooth alabaster skin disappearing beneath the folds of the crone’s cloak. What happened to the wrinkles and liver spots?

The woman reached up and removed the cloak’s hood. Limp hair in a dull shade of copper spilled over her bony shoulders. Turning, she revealed a heavily pockmarked face. She returned Mara’s frozen stare with a crooked smile. “What, never seen a bucktoothed goddess with bad acne before?” Her features shifted, taking on a strange shimmer. A nanosecond later, her complexion smoothed and glowed with radiance. The lifeless locks lengthened into vibrant red curls. “Better?”

“Wha…?” A breeze blew inside Mara’s gaping mouth and she snapped it shut.

“Oh shoot. I forgot something.” The woman tapped her front teeth and they instantly straightened.

Mara shook her head. “This isn’t happening. I must still be asleep. There’s no way I’m talking to a freaking goddess right now.”

Rhyann tipped her head back and laughed. “You humans are so amusing. Pretty damn good in the sack too, I gotta say.” She reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out a digital timepiece. “Hades’ balls, it’s past morning already? Better get a move on before I’m late to Eldred’s. Trust me, you don’t want to keep a bad-tempered six-thousand-year-old god who keeps a dragon for a pet waiting.”

Brilliant lights erupted around Rhyann and she disappeared in a flash. Mara blinked and pinched her arm. “Nope, definitely awake.” She rushed out onto the deck in time to hear the clopping of hooves, followed by a horse’s soft nicker. Maybe if she caught Rhyann in time, she’d bend the rules and grant her one last wish.

A fierce blast of wind slammed Mara against the lounge door. “Rhyann…wait.” She staggered forward. A final gust whipped her curls wildly around her face before dissipating with an eerie whistle. Something poked into her scalp. Reaching up, she plucked the object from her hair and stared in bemusement at the red feather pinched between her fingers.

Chapter Thirty-One

Dash ripped his safety harness off the second the jetcraft suspended its quantic thrusters and glided into its docking bay.

“Ares we…
hicc
…theres yet?”

He grimaced at the sprite wobbling beside the bottle of Larry the Fairy’s Hardcore Nectar resting in the chair’s cup holder. “How much of that stuff did you drink?”

“Lotsh—it’s awshome.” Piper hugged the bottle and planted a smacking kiss on the superimposed image of Larry the Fairy. “You’re awshome.”

“If you’re going to be any use at all, we need to get you sobered up.” He plucked Piper by the wings and shook her until she released the bottle and it tumbled to the seat. While she buzzed in drunken contentment, he made his way to the jetcraft’s debarking ramp. Midosh, smuggler and pilot of the craft, ambled out of the cockpit and met him at the exit doors.

“I owe you, my friend.” Dash clasped his colleague’s hand.

The pilot’s craggy face broke into a grin. “You still have that signed first edition of
Winged Glory
?”

Dash took the hint and agreed to send Midosh the literary classic first chance he got. He stepped on the floating ramp. Too impatient to wait for it to deposit him on the ground, he jumped the final two feet and took off on a fast jog.

“
Wheee
.” Piper swung her legs. “Go fasher.”

A shiny black Cressica waited outside the warehouse terminal—precisely where he’d arranged for Midosh to leave it. Yep, the smuggler more than deserved the first edition of
Winged Glory
for granting him access to his prized baby.

He tapped the digitized lock at the base of the vehicle’s tinted side window. The hatch doors hissed open and he slid into the leather bucket seat before dropping Piper on the console. She landed on her rump and hiccupped a nebula of sprite dust.

“First thing we’re doing is injecting you with a mega dose of caffeine.” Shaking his head, he roared out of the warehouse’s receiving lot and headed to Thaépar’s city center. He found a drive-thru beverage hut and ordered Piper a tall Jufferi with three shots of liquefied hammis bark thrown in for good measure. Popping the lid open, he checked the temperature. Lukewarm.

“You conscious?” When Piper didn’t respond, he nudged her over. A snore rumbled from her.

“Sonofafairy.” Gritting his teeth, Dash pinched one of the sprite’s boots between his thumb and forefinger and dunked her in the container of supercharged Jufferi.

She came up sputtering. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Good, she sounded halfway lucid. He dunked her again.

“That was so not cool.”

Satisfied her buzz was officially killed, he lowered her back to the console. She scrabbled to her feet and shook her dripping head, splattering the leather interior.

“Next time, could you use something other than booze to combat your fear of flying?”

Piper plopped her hands on her hips. “Next time? Forget it.” She slashed a hand through the air. “You’re not getting me on one of those flying deathtraps again.”

“Fine, you’ve got a deal.”

The sprite wrung out her hair and Dash engaged the Cressica’s turbo boosters. He shot towards the aerial freeway. Glancing at the luminar hologram, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Time was ticking and he had a stubborn woman to rescue.

He just hoped he could get to Mara before all hell broke loose.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Sea Surfer reached Volto around midday. Relief and trepidation warred within Mara when she stepped off the gangplank and spied Ronan waiting outside the aerocoach. She caught his eye by giving a short wave and crossed the shipyard. When she came to a stop in front of him he glanced over her shoulder, frowning.

“Where are Rhyder and the sprite?”

She forced herself to meet Ronan’s prodding gaze when it swung back on her. This would be great practice for the upcoming showdown. “Neither could make it, I’m afraid.”

A ferocious glower darkened Ronan’s face. “Did that thievin’ bastard give you the slip?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” She held up a hand, hoping to stall any further questions. “It’s been a hell of a week. Could we just hit the road?” Without waiting for his response, she angled by him and climbed inside the aerocoach’s passenger seat.

Ronan’s grunt floated through the opened window before he ambled to his side of the vehicle. He hunkered behind the wheel and she eyed his profile.

“How’s your nose?”

“Healing.” He rubbed the side of his bandages. “Doc did a fine job setting it. Might even look better than before you broke it.”

“Sorry again about that.”

“No worries.” His grin stretched the tape around his nose. “The pretty nurse who took care of me more than made up for the discomfort.”

Leave it to a male to take enforced bed rest to a whole new level. “Would you mind if I napped for a while? I really am exhausted.”

He shrugged and she leaned against the neck rest. The aerocoach started up with a series of low whirs and soon she felt the faint buffet of resistance as the vehicle sought a smooth-riding air flow.

Hours ticked by, but sleep refused to give Mara’s mind much-needed relief. Despite the fact, she kept her eyes shut and pretended to doze the entire time. It saved her making small talk. The downside was it also gave her too much time to play over bittersweet memories. She pressed her fingertips against her lips, imagining the warm pressure came from Dash’s mouth.