Guilty as Sin (44 page)

belongs.”

His skin crawling, Michael stepped forward to support the dead weight until Dax

could maneuver himself out the window and into the air. A couple of businesslike flaps

that blew the hair back off Michael
‟
s forehead, long arms yanking Veryl away, and Dax

was gone without a word.

Shoulder to shoulder, Michael and Lise stood and watched him wing away over the

rooftops, a huge, ominous shadow. He passed before the moon, a raptor
‟
s silhouette, his

prey dangling like some hideous slack-jointed doll, held fast by an iron grip around one

ankle.

Holy Twister. An atavistic shudder ran the length of Michael
‟
s spine. He slid an

arm around Lise
‟
s waist, unconsciously drawing her closer, feeling her warmth.
Alive
.

“Where—?” he asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.

204

“To the Hssrda.” Lise
‟
s tailed twined around his arm from elbow to wrist. “We
‟
d

better go. Tril
‟
s going to be furious.”

Michael frowned. “Why?”

Lise gave a weary chuckle. “We
‟
ll have to get him out of bed for a start, and he

purely hates patchwork.”

If the
hellfire
had ignited, there wouldn
‟
t have been enough of them left to make a

patchwork pincushion. Michael breathed deep, battling with a rebellious stomach. After

a few tense moments, he swallowed hard and went to investigate the small barrel

sitting in a corner. He turned the spigot. As he
‟
d suspected, Thaniel
‟
s water supply.

He felt…winded, as if he
‟
d run full tilt into a wall. Or as if it was his body Dax was

going to drop over the Hssrda camp, opening his fingers to let the thief fall endlessly

through the night air, twisting and flailing until he—

At any rate, he ached all over.

He found a wobbly stool for Lise. “Here, sit.” Then he tossed the dirty water out the

window and filled the bowl with fresh. Pulling up a chair, he sat close, gently guiding

her hand back under the surface. With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder.

Dully, he supposed he was suffering from shock. It wasn
‟
t every day a master thief

discovered how catastrophically he
‟
d miscalculated. He
‟
d wanted them both so badly—

exotic, challenging,
different
. Lise and Dax made his blood sing, they provoked his mind

and his body. They
‟
d tested him, forced him to be the best he could be. His lips

tightened, the entire disaster laid out clear before him. Fucking shame his best had near

as dammit killed them both.

Lise burned to the bone, Dax wounded to the soul. Fuck, he should have moved

faster, got to Veryl quicker. But no, he
‟
d stood there with his mouth hanging open

while—

Lise rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “You
‟
re shaking. Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he said. “Let me change the water.”

But she stood. “No, we should start back to the palazzo.”

Abruptly, the room felt stifling, the walls pressing unbearably close. Michael wet

his lips, sweat springing up along his hairline. “You
‟
ll get there quicker if you fly,” he

said, his voice remarkably steady. “I
‟
ll catch up.”

Lise lifted his arm and arranged it over her shoulder, her tail sneaking around his

waist. “Oh no, you don
‟
t,” she said. When she tilted her head back to stare into his eyes,

he wondered for a panicked second if she
‟
d read his mind. “Dax will need you.”

“Me? But—”

“Didn
‟
t you see his face? Both of us, Michael.” She made an impatient gesture,

nudging him toward the stairs. “Come on.”

* * * * *

205

Lise studied Michael as he prowled around her bedchamber, picking things up at

random—a comb, a bottle of featheroil, a notebook—and putting them down again.

Veil-it, the man was beyond restless, he was poised to run. For the first time, she could

see subtle intimations of age in that handsome face, there were creases in the corners of

his eyes, grim lines bracketing his mouth. She wanted to touch him so badly she ached,

but his expression was so forbidding she hesitated and then the moment was lost.

They
‟
d walked in silence through the dark streets, Michael
‟
s arm firmly around her

shoulders, her tail clasping his waist. It was amazing how well they fit together.

Arriving at the quiet palazzo, she
‟
d smuggled him in through the servants
‟
entrance

and up to her room. The hard part had been convincing him to wait while she went to

Tril
‟
s chamber, but she couldn
‟
t leave the burn untreated, they
‟
d both agreed on that. In

the end, she
‟
d resorted to outright manipulation.

“You can
‟
t leave without saying goodbye to Dax,” she
‟
d said, and watched his lips

thin. She looped her tail around his wrist. “Swear you
‟
ll be here for him.”

“All right. Go then.” Gently, he disengaged himself. Then he picked up her ink

brush and just as quickly replaced it on its block. It was only because she watched him

so closely that she detected the infinitesimal tremor in those deft fingers.

So she
‟
d taken her throbbing hand to Tril who, as predicted, was none too pleased

with the hour, Lise or the injury. Grumbling, the healer had climbed out of his bed-nest

and sluiced the burn with something so icy it made her choke and curse. Then he
‟
d

smothered it in a thick, sticky ointment that contained a numbing agent. “You
‟
ll have a

scar,” he said grimly, pressing a glass of water and three extra-strong pellets of

godspeace
into her hand. He stood over her, wings mantled, until she swallowed the lot.

As a consequence, she felt oddly shaky, all the way to the bones, and lightheaded to

boot. In no condition to—

Suddenly, Michael darted to the windows, flung them wide and leaned out. “Well,

don
‟
t hover,” he said. “Come in if you
‟
re coming. I
‟
ve got places I need to be.”

Boots scraped on the small balcony outside. Dax ducked his head to climb in

through the window, wings furled tightly on his back.

Michael stared up into his pale face. “Did you do it?”

“Yes, from six hundred feet up.” Dax touched the other man
‟
s shoulder. “I think the

Hssrda got the message.” A pause and he let his hand drop.

He shifted his gaze to Lise and she drew a sharp breath at the misery in his eyes.

“Chick, you all right?” His voice cracked.

Lise flung her arms around him. “Don
‟
t worry about me,” she said. She cradled his

set jaw in one hand. “You did what you had to do, but it
‟
s over now. We
‟
ve got you.

Both of us.”

She shot a glance at Michael, standing frozen at Dax
‟
s side, his face curiously blank.

“
Haven’t we?
”

206

Michael roused. “You
‟
ll get over it.” Awkwardly, he patted Dax
‟
s shoulder. “I have

to go.”

“Go?” Dax
‟
s brow creased. He wrapped a wing around the Grounded, pulling him

close. “Why?”

“How soon we forget.” Michael
‟
s lip curled. “If Jan finds me here…” Still cloaked in

brilliant bronze, he shrugged.

“After tonight…” Dax sucked in a painful breath. “Surely the Prince—”

Michael slipped out from under the Aetherii
‟
s wing. He glared. “That
‟
s naïve, even

for you, farm boy.”

Dax flinched.

“The Prince doesn
‟
t give a shit for slum brats.”

Lise stepped forward, her hearts banging together with a sudden unwelcome

tension.
We did it
, she reminded herself.
Relax
. “But the Winged Envoy does. If Jan and I

support it, she
‟
ll request a pardon for you.”

Michael stared, the sneer very marked. “And what shall I do while I
‟
m waiting for

this pipe dream?” He waved a hand. “Languish in your bed like a kept boy?”

“You could do worse.” A tired smile tugged one corner of Dax
‟
s mouth. “It
‟
s a big

bed. Roomy.”

Part of Lise wanted to grab the thief and shake some sense into him, but somewhere

else in her weary brain, a little girl was fighting tears. She squeezed her eyes shut,

rallying her forces. Of course she was emotional—she
‟
d nearly been blown to teeny-tiny

pieces, and the men she loved—

Rip the Veil, she was a Second Pinion warrior, she
‟
d indulge herself with a fit of the

vapors later.

Turning to Dax, she said, “No, he
‟
s right.” She reached out to stroke the thief
‟
s

forearm. “Stay
‟
til dawn, Michael. A quick bath, a nap and you
‟
ll feel much better.”

“What am I? Five years old?” The thief stepped back, his face bleak and empty, and

she had a sudden visceral memory of cold steel at her throat, a mocking whisper in her

ear. She shivered.

Dax seized the other man
‟
s hand and tugged him forward. “What
‟
s wrong?”

Michael looked him dead in the eye. “Nothing, birdy. I just can
‟
t afford the time.”

Dax frowned. “But I thought—”

“Then you thought wrong.”

Lise shot him a dark look. “Send a message with one of the kids and we
‟
ll meet

you.”

“Hear that?” Dax wrapped a huge hand around Michael
‟
s jaw, forcing his head up.

“Soon.”

“Sure. Bitsy or Peter.” Michael speared both hands into Dax
‟
s hair and pulled him

down into a vicious kiss, all teeth and tongues and rasping breath.

207

As suddenly as he
‟
d begun, Michael ripped himself away to take Lise
‟
s face in his

hands. “
Lise,
” he said, a wealth of meaning in the word, but she couldn
‟
t interpret the

tone because his mouth descended on hers, tasting of Dax and desperation.

Peripherally, she was aware of Dax
‟
s great arms and wings surrounding them both, of

his murmured endearments as he nuzzled her hair, licked the tip of her ear.

She tried to stop the shaking, but in all honesty, she didn
‟
t think she was the only