Guilty as Sin (14 page)

Yet even at Michael
‟
s mercy, Daxariel the Burnished was one of the most confident

males he
‟
d ever met. The Aetherii hadn
‟
t been disconcerted or disgusted by another

man
‟
s desire, or even by his own unwilling response. He
‟
d acknowledged it, brought

his will to bear—and set it aside.

The Aetherii had wanted, Michael had
made
him want, but Dax had fought with

everything in him, and he
‟
d won. That was strength indeed. The thief fingered his

bottom lip, considering. A man of principle then, a person of absolute integrity. On

consideration, he didn
‟
t think he
‟
d met one of those before.

He moved sharply, a loss of control, and a roof tile clinked, the sound sharp in the

night. Caught halfway between a smothered laugh and curse, he looked up, but the sky

remained empty.

66

Twister, Bitsy and the kids had to be his priority. A plan, he needed a plan, not this

formless jumble of excitement and dread. First, find the children before the scum who
‟
d

stolen them handed them over to the Hssrda. His blood chilled. He hadn
‟
t seen a

Hssrdan in years, not since he and Tannio had worked the crowd at a slave auction one

summer. He
‟
d been about twelve at the time, but scrawny enough to pass for younger,

his friend seventeen and already nearing his full growth.

It was their best haul ever—enough to live in style for a month—but though

nothing was said between them, they never tried a slave auction again. Even pressed

against the fading warmth of the chimney, Michael shivered. There was a certain reek

about the Hssrda
that, once experienced, could never be forgotten. The stench spoke to

something small and soft and mammalian that crouched deep inside the human brain,

whimpering. It brought to mind primeval swamps and cold, reptilian eyes watching

every move from beneath fetid water.

He
‟
d never killed a Hssrdan, but by the Twister, if that
‟
s what it took to free the

children, that
‟
s what he
‟
d do, with the Aetherii or without them. Bitsy had survived this

long in the Slopes on sheer guts, but gods, she must be terrified, poor little bitch.

Rubbing his chin, he considered. They had to be in the city somewhere, probably close

to one of the gates. He needed to find out when the next Hssrda caravan was due. The

bastard who
‟
d snatched the kids wouldn
‟
t risk moving them until the last possible

moment.

Michael blew out a careful breath and rose to lean against the chimney. He couldn
‟
t

really concentrate on Lise and Dax until he knew how he was going to find Bitsy, so

that was an imperative. As soon as it was light, he
‟
d put the word out on the street, pull

in a few favors. Gods, he
‟
d even pay if he had to. His circle of acquaintances was both

wide and varied. Someone would know something. They must.

With a muffled grunt, he stretched the kinks out of his back. There was a half bottle

of best Aetherian brandy in his room, not to mention silken sheets and a top-quality

mattress. Gods, that was tempting.

Broodingly, he stared across at the Aetherii palazzo. Perhaps he should return

there? Off searching the streets of Sere, Dax would never dream he
‟
d have the nerve. He

could help himself to a quiet conversation with Liseriel the Gray, which had been his

original objective. She was the superior officer, it stood to reason she
‟
d know more than

Dax. But he hadn
‟
t been able to resist the lure of an open window, the only one on this

side of the building, and look how well that had turned out.

Fate?

Maybe. He
‟
d long since given up any belief in the gods, but if he was pressed to

choose a deity, the Twister suited him perfectly. He
‟
d encountered the two-faced god of

the Travelers the first time he and Tannio had worked the Ten Nations Fair. He
‟
d

adopted the Great Liar immediately, but in a spirit of deepest cynicism, a way of

thumbing his nose at the universe. The perfect deity for a thief.

67

Sometimes he wondered though… Was the joke on him? Things had a way of

falling into place for Michael of Sere. He accepted it as no more than his due, partly a

tribute to his own sound instincts and undoubted brilliance, partly because he fucking-

well deserved some luck. Life, the gods, the turn of the wheel—whatever people called

it—he and Tannio, they were damn-well owed. He drew a deep, painful breath. It

wasn
‟
t as if Tannio was still around to collect.

Deliberately, he blocked the image of beautiful brown eyes, made ugly by anguish

and guilt. They were old thoughts anyway, distractions he could not afford.

“Veil-it, what are you doing?” said a woman
‟
s voice.

68

This Book Belongs to:

Liseriel the Gray

House of the Gray Clan,

The Eyrie,

The World.

My One Hundred Lines

I must not be willful. I must not be willful. I must not be willful.

I must not be willful. I [blot] not be willful. I must not be willful.

I must not be willful. I must not be willful. I [blot] [blot] be willful.

I MUST NOT BE WILLFUL.

I MUST not be willful. I must NOT be willful. I must not BE willful.

I must not be wuffle. I must not be wiffle. I must not be fulwill.

Willful I must not be. Willful I mist not be. Willful I must nit be.

I must not be willful. I must not be willful. I must [blot] [blot] [blot]

I must not be willful. I must not—

Top half of a page torn from the exercise book of Liseriel the Gray, aged ten years.

* * * * *

Michael spun around so fast he nearly stepped right off the roof.

Liseriel the Gray stood on a small platform that projected from the top floor of the

Winged Envoy
‟
s palazzo. Slim and queenly, she was a vision in silhouette, her hair and

skin and plumage silvered by moonbeams. It looked as if all she wore was an oversize

shirt, her legs—and everything else presumably—bare beneath it. Her chin was tilted,

offering a profile pure enough to be stamped on a coin, and she was staring up at—

Shit!

Michael took a smart pace back into the shelter of the chimney.

A couple of feet above her head hovered Dax, huge wings languidly stirring the air.

Gods-fuckin
‟
-dammit!

He was getting old, losing his touch, so deep in thought, he hadn
‟
t heard a thing.

Michael pinched the back of his hand, hard. That settled it. The sooner he evened the

score with Lise and Dax, got his godsbedamned itch scratched, the better. In fact, he

should walk away from the two Aetherii
right now—
he was pretty sure he could track

69

the kids down by himself if it came to it—but he was in too deep. Hooked on the

wicked, seductive challenge of bending them to his will.

“I
‟
m looking for Michael.” Dax
‟
s gentle rumble carried clearly in the still air. “Here,

move over.” He began to descend.

There wasn
‟
t room, not with a wingspan like that. He was going to knock her clean

off the platform! Michael opened his mouth then closed it with a snap.
Thinking like a

Grounded, idiot!
Aetherii don
‟
t fall, they fly.

“Michael?” Lise frowned. “Something woke me, some noise, but it
‟
s the middle of

the night.”

“Makes no difference to our master thief.” Dax
‟
s voice was very dry. “He just paid

me a visit.”

“
What
?” When Lise grabbed his arm, Dax took the opportunity to slip a wing

around her shoulders. “Where is he? What did he want?”

Michael crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms, leaning comfortably

against the warm bulk of the chimney. He grinned. Oh, this should be good. How much

would Dax tell her before his masculine pride rose up and choked him? How would he

explain the featherpearl? Would he even hand it over?

“The children.”

“You
‟
re joking! But why—?”

Dax shrugged, and even across the space between them, Michael could hear the

rustle of long feathers. “It seems he cares. He was certainly angry enough when I told

him about the note on the school door. He knows Bitsy and Nell, quite well, I
‟
d say.” A

short pause. “And he
‟
s had dealings with Hssrda, I
‟
m sure.”

“Gods no!” Lise
‟
s voice went thin. “You don
‟
t think it
‟
s him? I can
‟
t believe—” She

broke off.

Don
‟
t they say eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves? Michael
‟
s mouth

twisted into a bitter line.

“No,” Dax said. “That
‟
s not what I meant at all. It
‟
s not him. He has his own twisted

sense of honor. There was horror in his eyes. He has firsthand knowledge of the Hssrda,

I
‟
d swear to it.”

Michael flexed his cramped fingers. Perceptive bastard.

“Gods, let me at him.” Lise turned toward the door behind her. “Where did you put

him?”

Here it came. Michael
‟
s balls tightened with anticipation. He leaned forward a little.

“I didn
‟
t.”

“What?” Lise turned. “He got away?
Again?
” She ran a hand through her hair.

“Dax, I swear,” she said through gritted teeth, “this is the last thing I need, not on top of

kidnapped children.”

70

“I never had him in the first place.” Godsdammit, how could the Aetherii sound so

calm? “He drugged me in my sleep. When I came to, I was chained to the bed.” He

offered thick wrists for inspection.

Oh, very clever. A play for sympathy.

“Shit, he
‟
s unbelievable.” Lise took Dax
‟
s hands in hers, but she only nodded and

said, “I
‟
ve got plenty of
bruisebalm
.”

Dax smiled. “That
‟
s what Michael recommended.”

The Aetherii didn
‟
t take his hands back though. Instead, he curled long fingers

around hers.

“This is pretty minimal damage, unless the drug—?” Lise shot her companion an

inquiring glance.

He shook his head, the moonlight playing in his hair. “I, ah, did it to myself.” A

shrug. “I lost my temper, struggled. He actually took reasonably good care not to hurt

me.”

“But it was the children he was after? Did he know anything?”

I wanted you too
, thought Michael fiercely. Tell her, tell her.

Dax shook his head. “No, unfortunately, nothing at all. But he proposed a kind of

alliance. And he gave me this,” Dax freed one hand to dig in his pocket, “as a gesture of

good faith.”

Cupping his fingers under hers, he dropped the earring into her palm.

Michael
‟
s brows rose. Well, well. He should have known. Honest to a fault.

Liseriel gasped. “Oh,” she said, gazing down at the featherpearl. “
Oh
.”

She lifted her head. For the first time, Michael saw her smile. In the moonlight, he

couldn
‟
t decide whether she looked more like a child surprised by a gift or a woman in

love, perhaps something of both, but her face radiated uncomplicated pleasure.

The bulk of the chimney pressed into Michael
‟
s shoulder blades. Blinking, he

pushed a fist into the center of his chest.
One day
, he thought.
One day, you’ll smile at me

like that
.

He wasn
‟
t surprised to see Dax
‟
s throat bob as he swallowed. Up so close, the force

of it would be like a crossbow bolt to the heart. How often did she smile? Gods, what

would it be like to hear her laugh out loud for sheer joy? She was so serious, Liseriel the

Gray, so dedicated.

“I thought he must have sold them,” she said.

Dax shook his head. “He values them too much.” One great wing flexed and curled

around her back, light as a summer breeze. Michael wasn
‟
t sure she even noticed, all

her attention fixed on the earring.

“Why do you think that?”

The big Aetherii cleared his throat, and Michael grinned. Here it came.

“Remember?” he said, evenly enough. “He
‟
s wearing them on nipple rings.”

71

“You mean he
showed
you? Gods!” Her voice rose almost to a squeak. Heh.

Downright cute.

“Yes.” Dax
‟
s voice had dropped to a gravelly rasp. Taking Lise
‟
s free hand, he lifted

it to his bare chest, flattening her open palm over a broad bronze nipple. “Here.”

Between one breath and the next, Michael went rock-hard. He could swear he saw

the air between the two Aetherii spark and sizzle. Twister, for all his farm boy

innocence, the man was good!

“He still has the other one,” Dax said in a bedroom growl that shot all the way

down Michael
‟
s spine and lodged behind his balls. Without moving his eyes from hers,

Dax slid Lise
‟
s hand across the wonderful breadth of his chest to the left-hand side.

“Over here, next to his Grounded heart.”

Michael pressed the heel of his hand against the root of his cock.

“Uh.” Her lips still parted, Lise swayed a little and the Aetherii wrapped the other

wing around her.

Michael shivered. What would it feel like to be held like that? Feathers all down his

naked back, brushing his ass, his calves, Lise
‟
s sweet breasts crushed against his chest.

“Don
‟
t you want it back?” Dax murmured.

The air had turned to soup, too thick to breathe.

Now Lise had both hands braced on Dax
‟
s chest. “How do you suggest we manage

that?” Michael peered. Was she pushing him away or leaning closer?

“Find the children before Michael does.”

“What do you mean?”

“He bet me he
‟
d beat us to them.”

“Gods, the man has a nerve! We
‟
d all be better off if he joined forces with us.” Lise
‟
s

eyes narrowed. “What stakes?”

“Six of my featherpearls against your earring and—and—” Even from the shadow

of his chimney, Michael could see a flush darken the Aetherii
‟
s smooth cheek. The thief

pulled in a breath and didn
‟
t let it out.

“And what?” Lise gripped Dax
‟
s shoulder. “C
‟
mon, tell me. I won
‟
t be shocked, I

promise.”

After a tingling silence, Dax said, “Your earring and the use of his body for a night.”

“Rip the Veil!” Lise rose on tiptoe to grip Dax
‟
s shoulders. “He didn
‟
t—?” Biting

her lip, she stared into wide green eyes.

Dax
‟
s met her gaze steadily enough. “No. Said he won
‟
t go where he
‟
s not invited.”

Lise relaxed. “He has a godsbedamned fine opinion of himself.”

“Hmpf. Not unjustified. We know how attractive he can be.”

Michael grinned broadly.

“You think so?” She cocked her head to one side in an oddly birdlike gesture.

72

“I
‟
m not blind, Lise. Or made of stone. It
‟
s part of his stock-in-trade.”

“True.” A pause. “So he got to you too. Did you take the wager?”

“Not in so many words.” Dax flushed again, but this time the color bloomed all the