Chapter 12 #2
“Thaetus, I didn’t hear you call out. If I had, I would’ve answered.
” She crossed the room, struggling to keep her voice to a reasonable tone.
Obviously, Thaetus was only trying to do his job, but the man needed to learn not to panic.
“In the future, please give me more time to respond. After all, I am safe here in Taroc Na Mor. What could make its way in here?” She gave an impatient flick of her wrist in Taggart’s direction.
“Especially with all of you lurking around every corner just itching to hack something with your swords.”
Thaetus lifted his nose higher. His bespectacled eyes narrowed as he gave a delicate sniff. “One can never be too careful, Lady Guardian. We must never let down our guard.”
She eyed the stone-faced servant. His stubbornness obviously mirrored Taggart’s hardheaded ways.
She might as well save her breath. “Thaetus, I refuse to argue with you. But I really think you are overreacting.” They guarded her as if she was a national treasure.
No attacks had happened since they left Jasper Mills. She felt safe at Taroc Na Mor.
“What kept ye, Hannah? Why did ye not answer Thaetus?” Taggart frowned at the twisted hinges dangling from the doorframe.
“I just told you I didn’t hear him. Besides, that is none of your business.
” With a huff, she poured herself some coffee and curled up on the settee to return his fuming stare.
She had to admit she rather enjoyed the results when he got irritated.
And this was the second time he had made her more than a little breathless by rushing to defend her.
When he brandished his sword, those wondrous muscles pulsed, and she knew he would slay anything foolish enough to get in his path.
She cradled her cup in her hands and remembered the warmth of his essence when she had helped him heal Septamus.
She shifted on the settee, drawing in a rapid breath.
These chambers suddenly seemed very warm.
Thaetus’s eyes widened with a horrified look, and he nervously patted Taggart’s arm. “Ye need to leave this room and allow the Lady Guardian to compose herself. Ye have upset her, and ye know that is forbidden.”
A dark brow arched, Taggart studied her, then sidled a glance back at Thaetus’s bug-eyed expression. A roguish grin crept across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Truly? Are ye absolutely certain, Thaetus?”
“Aye, Taggart. Ye know the rules. The Lady Guardian must be left alone.” The servant plucked at Taggart’s arm with long, narrow fingers and jerked his head toward the door.
“Thaetus, I know we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and please don’t take this the wrong way. But you are acting a little strange. Are you all right?” She slid her china cup onto the marble-slab table in front of the damask settee.
Taggart’s warm, rumbling chuckle bubbled up from the depths of his massive body and echoed off the walls of the high-ceilinged room. “I have to tell her, Thaetus. ’Twould not be fair to keep the lass in the dark. Ye have already given yourself away.”
Thaetus shook his head and backed against the wall, pulling the breakfast cart in front of him as though it were a shield. “She will not be pleased. Consider yerself warned, Taggart. And ye might want to step back here with me.”
Taggart rubbed his nose with the back of his hand as he gave a wink and a nod toward Thaetus. “The man is an Empath. Ye might say he’s verra sensitive to yer . . . um . . . needs.”
She looked from Taggart to Thaetus and then back to Taggart’s knowing grin.
That rat. Thaetus had picked up on her starved arousal and alerted Taggart in code.
The heat of this embarrassing revelation stormed its way through her.
Her cheeks burned hotter than they had in high school when the zipper had split on her jeans during her speech in the middle of assembly.
“Get out.” She pointed at the door hanging off the hinges while refusing to look at them.
“It is all right. I understand how ye might be excited.”
“I said, get out! Now!”
Thaetus took the lead and hurried toward the door, dodging the coffee cup she lobbed at their heads. He only paused long enough to hiss at Taggart. “I advised ye she would not be pleased.”
“They have yet to lie together. Neither the bed nor her body held a trace of his scent nor has he shared his mark. Moon lilies fragranced the entire room—no other oil or aroma inhabited any other surface. I saw no mark anywhere on her skin, showing her to be his mate.” Mia knelt before Sloan’s chair, head bowed, hands limp and lifeless on her bended knees.
“You realize she communicates with animals? She will access your mind when you take the form of a beast.” Sloan scowled at her, worrying his fingertips across the intricate carvings running along the arms of his chair.
If she botched this task, he would twist her delicate neck until her bones snapped.
She had failed him once by not mating with Taggart. She better not fail him again.
Her hands fluttered to her throat, and she bowed even lower. “Yes, my love. I took great care to shield my true inner nature. The Guardian thought I was nothing more than a stray cat wandered in from the courtyard.”
With one long, blackened fingernail, he tapped the grooved arm of the chair and studied the woman before him.
A wave of disgust washed across him at the phenomenal disappointment she had become.
Mia’s weakness with his brother had ruined his well-thought-out plans.
She had best redeem herself with this latest task or he would take the greatest pleasure in separating her soul from her body.
Through Mia and Taggart, he could have built and controlled armies of some of the strongest beings across all the realities.
But she failed him. He had counted too much on her deceptive heart and not realized how truly inept the woman actually was.
In the end, her cowardice thwarted his plan.
She had been terrified of Taggart in his natural form.
Sloan blew out a heavy sigh. He lost count of the times he wished his conniving father had sired him as a Draecna hybrid as well.
“Taggart is slipping in his old age. What is he now? A little over seven hundred years?” Sloan steepled his fingers under his chin and stroked his goatee while musing aloud.
“Perhaps his carnal lusts have slowed over the centuries. Although, I have seen the lass. I would have no problem bedding her.”
Mia clenched her hands in a shaking knot in her lap, glancing up as she inched closer to his gilded chair. “Seven hundred years is quite young for a Draecna, m’lord. Taggart is merely holding true to his pledge.”
He traced his sharpest curved nail along Mia’s pale cheek as she rested her head on his knee. “Perhaps he fears she will react the same way you did when she sees the veritable monster within him. ’Tis one thing to be the Guardian of the Draecna race. ’Tis another to find one between your legs."
He pressed down harder, slicing into her ivory skin.
Ruby-red droplets beaded up, then trickled down the gentle curve of her jaw in a wonderful stream.
He hated Taggart, hated his power, his immortality, his magic and everything about him.
Taggart had ruined his plans of an army of hybrids.
He would not ruin his plan of controlling the next clutch of Draecna waiting to be hatched.
Sloan ran his hand across Mia’s hair as she cowered beside him. With a disgusted hiss, he jerked his hand away, spit, and shoved her away with his boot. “Your hair has become as coarse as straw. Is there nothing you can do to make it more pleasing to my touch?”
“I will try, my love. Please forgive me for being so repulsive.” She backed away to her pillow beside the fire, curling up on it as though she were a dog.
“No.” He pointed at the door. “You have not finished with the Guardian. Return to Taroc Na Mor. When the time is right, I want her brought to me. I will not accept a failure this time. This is your final chance.”
She bowed her head and closed her eyes. “As you wish, my love.”