Iron Dominance (24 page)

His mouth left her lips, and he bit the juncture of jaw and neck.

Eyes half-closed, breathing faster, she tilted her head, allowing him better access. He took her throat again between his teeth and paid close attention to it for a while—sucking and biting. Her legs weakened.

“Hmm.” He nuzzled her. “If I keep this up, perhaps you’ll end up on the floor with your legs around me?”

No
! How scandalous that would be here, in the open.
Surely not.

The crunch and splash of nearing footsteps brought her up from the dazed world she’d been lowered into.

“Sir,” said Dankyo, impervious to the droplets bouncing on the flat plain of his hair and dribbling down his face. “I beg your pardon, but I have urgent news.”

With one hand still under her leggings, on her bare ass, Theo turned to Dankyo. “What is it?”

“The weather report has this rain turning into an electrical storm late tomorrow morning, sir. You might be wise to leave today if you wish to attend the opening of parliament.”

“Ah. I see. Inform the captain to ready the airship for flight in two hours.”

Dankyo nodded. “There is another matter, sir.” His gaze slid to Claire and back. The slightest wrinkling of his brow betrayed his interest. She wondered what devious thing he’d been up to.

“What is it?”

Dankyo put his hands behind his back. “They’re reopening the inquiry into the airship crash, sir. Apparently this employer of hers”—he nodded at Claire—“Mr. Inkline, is rumored to have been carrying some dangerous cargo, though as yet, no one knows what it was. That was the reason for the attack. The Brito-Gallic League have finally admitted to the attack and given us this information as a gesture of apology.”

“Dangerous cargo?” Theo’s fingers moved on her bottom. She had to restrain herself from wriggling.

Then a spike of fear drove into her. She was the dangerous cargo. Did it matter, though? That was the past, buried and gone.

She listened as they batted possibilities back and forth.

“Could this cargo have had something to do with the assassinations?” Theo asked.

“Perhaps, sir.”

She’d decided that the assassinations would never happen. That they’d been aborted completely. But what if they hadn’t been? Was it wise to completely dismiss the plan? Because someone called Theo had been on the list, and Theo, her Theo, was going off without her and Dankyo. Someone else might have been given her target. And that target might have been Theodore Kevonis. Anxiety knifed through her.
What if… What if he’s killed because I’ve not told the truth?

At last they gave up on the discussion, and Dankyo strode away.

“Claire?” Theo was staring down at her. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be leaving sooner than I thought. I will send for you once I gain the agreement of parliament. Once it’s safe, Dankyo will bring you. There’s a presidential ball being held in the capital. I would love to show you how we Hellenes celebrate.” The smile he gave her was enigmatic, as if he had some surprise in mind.

She reined in her panic, thoughts churning. She had to either tell him everything or somehow get on that airship.

As they walked to the back entrance of the mansion, Theo casually asked her the question she’d been dreading. “Have you any idea what this dangerous cargo would have been?”

He barely looked at her, and she was grateful. He’d waited for Dankyo to go before asking her. To give her space to think and to answer without pressure. Ah, that almost undid her right then and there. He gave her kindness, and she gave back dishonesty.

She should tell him. Kneel down and beg his forgiveness and tell him. Only, she couldn’t. Her bravery failed her.
Nothing
in this world was as important to her as Theo, and she couldn’t bear to throw it all away by being truthful.

The hours before his departure tortured her. He’d learned her mannerisms so well, if she put a foot wrong, spoke with the wrong inflection, made the wrong gesture, he’d know she was concealing something important. Yet she didn’t want him to leave.

As it was, they reached the front steps before she ended up crying. Beyond, the airship waited. Cold rain gusted across, swathing it in a curtain of gray. Theo’s men waited patiently with umbrellas over their heads.

Theo hugged her to him. “Claire. What’s wrong?”

She hugged him tighter, arms around him, her face buried against the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Her white dress had thick lacy petticoats and a cantilevered bodice. Though her breasts stood up nicely, there was way too much cloth between her and Theo. She wanted to feel his skin. A tear trickled along her nose. At least the rain would disguise the moisture left on his shirt.

“Claire?” He patted her back. “I have to go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she managed to whisper.

“I’ll bring you to me soon. Dankyo will stay here with you. Parliament will revoke that bill; then you can come. I know we have the votes. This will happen. All right?”

He gently pulled her arms away, then held her chin up and looked at her. “Tears?”

“Stupid of me.” She shook her head, trying to dislodge his fingers but not succeeding.

Damnation, she needed to give him a reason for her unhappiness. She clutched for another truth, not
that
one, and knew it had to be something that would distract him. Every second his gray eyes seemed to delve deeper into her thoughts, dissecting her, and eventually he’d hit bone. She let the sadness fill her.

Despite the others within earshot, she opened her heart to him, and she told him her fear, though not the reason why.

“I… You are everything to me, Theo. Without you, I feel I am nothing. I don’t want to leave you, or you to leave me. I’m afraid of what might happen.”

He frowned, then leaned in and said softly in her ear. “I’m not leaving you, Claire. I don’t ever want to leave you. But this is not the place to discuss such things. When you come to the capital?”

Ever? He doesn’t ever want to leave me? Oh, yes, oh yes
. She nodded, sniffing. “Yes.”

“Good, my love.”

Ah, if there were two words she could listen to him say over and over, it was those—
my love
—even when he said them in Greek. She’d thought to distract him and ended up telling him she couldn’t live without him. Then why couldn’t she bring herself to say what she should have said long ago? That she was an assassin. Where was her courage?

She watched him stride away through the rain.

She could feel the words straining at the back of her throat to be said.
I’m an assassin, and I may have been meant to kill you. Please don’t go without me.

How did she say something that might end her world? This was like knifing herself. She could see herself cut down in an instant once Theo and Dankyo understood everything. She’d betrayed them both, but especially Theo. Her Theo. And she’d bleed for it. He’d throw her away like a dirty rag.

Yet if she stayed silent, he would go off without her and without Dankyo. And who else could protect him if he truly was the assassination target? If he died… Oh, that would be worse than ending this little paradise she’d found. She loved him. She thought he loved her back, but the person he loved wasn’t real. He loved someone he trusted absolutely. Not her.

Theo was halfway to the airship. She quivered with indecision, felt the anguish and the words struggling inside her. She’d break in a moment. Shatter from the awful agony of wanting two impossible things at once. He took more steps, drew away.
Now! Say it now! There’s time.

He was almost to the stairs leading up. When he went up those, it would be too late.

She choked. Took one shaky step, then picked up her flounced skirt and
ran
. Mud splattered her ankles.

In a few minutes, the airship would lift off and sink into the fog of rain and wind, dwindling to a red smudge. Her mind seethed with grief and self-condemnation and more sadness, the emotions feeding on one another like circling sharks.
Run!

For a few fleeting seconds, she even hit sharp time. People blurred. Raindrops fell, wobbling before her eyes, drifting like snowflakes.

Theo turned, slowly. He saw her and stopped; his broad shoulders seemed to jerk as if she’d shocked him. She wove through the two men in her way and fell to her knees at Theo’s feet. The rain soaked her dress, stuck her hair to her neck and forehead, but she barely noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped out. “I…”

“Claire—” Theo put out his hand, cupped her chin. He sighed, a half smile on his face. “Very well. You may come. I never thought this would upset you so much.” Someone else ran up. “You too, Dankyo. Arrange for some clothes for the both of you, please. Come with me.” He dragged her up and to his side, then turned to the metal steps that descended from the belly of the airship.

Behind her, Claire heard Dankyo snapping out orders. He must have been right behind her, all the way, as she ran.

“You can remain in the airship while parliament goes through the stages of revoking the Frankenstruct Euthanasia bill.”

Relief flooded her as they went up the steps together. She was safe again, and so was Theo. Everything was back under control. Perfectly safe. She didn’t need to reveal any more of herself. She’d panicked for no solid reason. For an assassin to panic, well, they’d have failed her at classes, that was certain, and all because of one man. Strange, and it made her feel so queer. Going to her knees on the wet grass had been overly dramatic.

That her hands still trembled, she dismissed as a sign of the cold rain affecting her.

At the top of the stairs a uniformed woman cleaned her muddy feet with a cloth.

When they were behind a timber door, in some sort of lounging room, Theo sat on a tan leather sofa and pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled in. Her head found that ever so right space beneath his chin at his shoulder. Bliss. The engines of the airship had settled into a regular rhythm, and the rain seemed a distant event, lightly tapping on the porthole glass as if asking politely to be allowed in. Warm, comfy, and she had her man again.

“Happy?” Theo asked, his fingers playing in her hair.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” he muttered. But she could hear the amusement beneath the exasperation. She reached up and held on to the hand on her head. “Disobedient woman. I wonder what is the best way to punish you. I don’t think I packed a whip.”

She froze.
Oh, no.

Theo chuckled and tugged her hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

That almost sounded worse.

Chapter Twenty

Later that evening, a manservant knocked at the door and wheeled in a light evening repast of soup and crusty bread rolls, and cinnamon-topped apple strudel with little mounds of cream. After he quietly set the food onto the low table before the couch, Theo dismissed him. The door snicked shut.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she’d become. She looked sideways at Theo. “Would you like me to serve?” It wasn’t a role that came easily to her; at the barracks you were either a soldier or kitchen staff, with no in-betweens.

“No.” He nudged her forward, and she climbed up from where she’d been nestled against him. “Turn.” He indicated with his hand, and she moved until her back was to him.

“What is it?” Then she felt his hands at her back where the dress laced up from bottom to neck.

“No talking. Stay silent unless I ask a question.” His voice had the steely backbone that made her shudder to a halt and her heartbeat thump louder. Her throat dried. She let herself be pulled until she stood between his legs and pressed her neck back as she felt his fingers working there.

He growled. “Still.” And she froze again.

The tie at the neck loosened, then the bodice as he undid the dress, opening it all the way down to her bottom. He kissed the center of her back and gently slid the fabric down her back and arms, baring her upper breasts, then her nipples to the cool air until at last she was nude to the waist. She strove to keep her mouth closed despite the quickening of her breaths.

“Close your eyes,” he said, and he kissed along her spine. A tingling blaze centered on where his soft lips pressed on her skin.

In the darkness of her mind, the light touch of cloth and fingers magnified. He drew the dress and then the lace and wire-stiffened petticoat to the floor. She stood there naked, wondering what he intended. From somewhere a wisp of breeze riffled her pubic hair. Was this to be his punishment?

He smoothed his hands from her upper arms to her shoulders and down her back, stopping a moment or two at her waist to rest his heavy palms on her hips. His thumbs revolved in feather-soft circles before he brought them round onto her buttocks, caressing the shape of her ass over and over, fingers flicking across the split. She heard the hiss of skin on skin, felt his calluses. His thumbs slid along the crease between each globe and on down to her outer thighs, then her inner, so very close to where her labia swelled.

She bit her lip, holding back a soft moan as her vagina twitched. A line of moisture leaked out, and she felt her labia part.

He kept on feeling her thighs and buttocks, shaping his hand against her rather than massaging. Every so often his warm fingers wandered excruciatingly close to her mound.

“Are you wet, Claire?”

She sucked air through her nose. Just the question made her clench down there again.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Turn,” he said.

She faced him, eyes still shut, but her breathing came faster. Her nipples puckered. Though his hands hadn’t done anything more intimate to her and only rested on her thighs, she was acutely aware of her nudity. A few inches away, he’d be looking at her with his mouth and tongue close to her breasts. He gripped tighter, kept her still. She imagined him probing through her slickness and quivered.

“Lovely.” The word was said so quietly she almost missed it. She let her eyelids open the teeniest crack.

“Claire.” She jammed her eyelids down, but he slid his hands up the front of her and tweaked each nipple, once.