Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
A s I left the building, muscles aching as always—I couldn't remember the last time my body hadn't ached somewhere—I decided not to busk tonight. Though I should try to get ahead a bit, the groceries Andrei purchased gave me a few days of wiggle room if I rationed. Maybe not if he intended on eating with me again, because that man could eat. I had no idea how this dating scenario was going to progress.
I exhaled noisily. This was exactly why I hadn't wanted the complication of a man in my life. I didn't have the mental energy to handle this right now.
“Hasannah.”
There was no mistaking his voice, the internal compass that had me walking towards him as if he were on the other end of a tether. I turned and looked down the street to where the coach was parked, a man watching me.
He stood arms folded, green-black hair tousled around his shoulders, gaze warm as I approached. He'd traded last night's club attire for a high-necked shirt in frosted green, the chest panel sheer, sleeves bloused and ending in tight, wide cuffs. Fitted velvet like pants several shades darker than the shirt tucked into ankle boots.
Was this Cassanian business wear, or Court wear? I didn't recall orientation covering much regarding styles of dress. Our cultural crash course had mostly consisted of things to do, or not do, to avoid death and jail.
And Lords, which I'd somehow failed miserably.
“How was rehearsal?” he asked when I stopped in front of him.
Near enough to see the dusting of faint purple over his lids, brightening his eyes. So unfair. He was already too attractive for my own good.
I gave the cautiously polite generic half bow acceptable between strangers of wildly unequal rank Coralene had bullied us into perfecting.
“My mother used to pick me up after school too,” I said.
Andrei canted his head, mouth turning down. “I. . .beg your pardon?”
But he returned the bow with a slightly different variation, something in the motion indicating displeasure.
I shrugged, avoiding his suddenly sharp eyes, shifting my bag to my other shoulder. My tone had been a little rude. He reached out and plucked the bag from me.
“There were scouts present for the first time,” I said, staring at his feet before he moved to stow my bag. His toes would be perfect, of course. Pretty and untwisted. Just wait till he got an eyeful of mine.
Should I tell him about the private offer I'd received? I didn't know the Fae's name.
He turned, coming close to slide a hand around my hip and tug me towards him. My hands automatically rose and rested on his shoulders. My tired body shook off some of the weariness and perked up, not at all immune to the sensation of my breasts smashed against his hard chest.
The fingers on my hips flexed, lightly possessive. “What's wrong? Did someone insult or disturb you?”
Oh boy, would I never say yes to that question. A completely unreasonable threat lurked in the depths of his companionable tone—one he’d already made good on with Larry.
Note to self; no casual conversation with my new boyfriend complaining about the petty squabbles between dancers. I might get someone in the kind of trouble you met in a dark alley. Though, I supposed a High Lord wasn’t required to bother with alleys, or discretion.
“If you wanted to hunt someone down and kill them on the street in daylight, could you?” I asked. “And get away with it.”
Andrei blinked slowly. “That’s a dark question.”
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand.
“I’ll answer. I could, and no one intelligent would interfere.” He smiled, revealing a glimmer of dangerous amusement. “My mother wouldn’t be happy. She prefers the Lords not frighten the tourists.”
“I’ll bet.”
“And the answer to my question, my Anah?”
“No.” I wouldn't tell you if someone did bother me. You’re homicidal.
The long pause suggested that though I’d kept those words to myself, he’d heard them anyway.
“If that is so. . .good. May I?”
Andrei angled my head so I couldn't avoid his eyes anymore. Eyes communicating what he wanted permission for. He lowered his head, lips hovering over mine.
“Should you?” My voice wasn't steady. “We're out in the open.”
If any of the dancers saw me in the arms of a High Lord, the gossip would spread like wildfire. Hot, and merciless.
“It's only a matter of time.” He straightened. “But you're right. I forget myself somewhat. Up you go.” He opened the coach door and lifted me up.
“You missed your calling as a cavalier,” I said as I settled down, breathing slow and deep until my tensing body relaxed. “Any man who can fling a whole woman around needs to be in ballet.”
Andrei settled on the seat across from me, half lounging on one elbow. The coach rolled smoothly into motion, not a hiss of plebeian steam to be heard.
His eyes glinted. “It’d please my mother if I did. Though bringing her an elite dancer as my bonded should please her enough to remain in her grace for at least a decade.”
He was a bit of a mama’s boy, wasn’t he? Cute, as long as it didn’t cause future problems. My eldest brother’s mother-in-law was a nightmare.
“You reveal your nefarious scheme,” I said, folding my legs underneath me. “Your mother's a fan of ballet?”
“You could say that.”
I could say a lot of things, starting with, are you Lord Andreien, the Heir of Casakraine city? His mother happened to be a fan of ballet?
It was as if he was leaving me breadcrumbs to soften me up for the big reveal. Though to be fair, the second clue—his name—hadn't come from him.
I held back because if his answer was yes, then I couldn’t pretend this was no big deal anymore. I shouldn’t be able to pretend anyway—but I was determined to ignore pesky details like soulbond and High Lord. My aunt had warned me my conflict avoidant personality would walk me into trouble I couldn’t prance away from one day.
“The showcase is soon,” I said. “And I'll either be invited to the company or not.”
“Yes, I know.” He lounged with an ease I didn't buy for a minute, hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes.
“If not, I have no legal recourse to stay in Casakraine.”
Andrei examined the state of the polish on his long nails. They were coated in a matte, pale hunter green that complemented his clothing. Rather matchy-matchy. Though I hardly qualified as a fashion critic.
“Don’t be concerned,” he said.
I didn't bother getting upset over his offhand condescension. “You can’t expect me not to be concerned.”
Andrei uncoiled from his relaxed posture and leaned his elbows on his knees, still staring at his hands. “What happened at rehearsal, Hasannah? You felt tense when you emerged.”
“I want to dance, Andrei. More than anything. There's only one company in Casakraine, and it's either that, or the private clubs that hire human dancers.”
“An option unavailable to you.” His voice was soft, his gaze less so as he lifted it. “The dancers in those clubs survive through patronship. Any favor you offer will be mine alone.”
I wrinkled my nose. That would make him my patron, but I didn't poke that tiger. “I wasn't truly considering it. No, I want to be on a classical dance stage. If I can't do it here, then I have to go home.”
And figure out a career for a thirty-year-old classically trained dancer with no other skills or backup education.
Andrei still didn't move. “If I assured you your place in the company is?—”
I sucked in a breath, holding up a hand. “Don't. Please don't. I don't want to go there.”
“Interesting. Why not? Do you think you're not good enough to court favor?”
“I'm very good at what I do. Besides, I have an edge.” I hadn't meant to say that.
“An edge?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. The point is, I don't want my place through. . .what's the word for nepotism but you're not remotely related?”
The corner of his mouth curled up in a slightly mocking though still gentle—but now much darker—smile. “Politics.”
“Okay. That.”
“You're a proud little thing, aren't you?”
I shifted on the bench, not liking the deepening amusement in his voice. “Would you like it if everything you've earned was because your mother waved her hand and pulled strings behind the scenes?”
His smile vanished. “It doesn't work like that in the Courts, little mortal.”
I'd touched a sore spot. Good. He was hammering on mine.
“What you claim you must keep by bargain or force, even with the backing of someone powerful. Eventually you must survive personal challenge, and it's in no patron's interest to cultivate the weak.”
“I don't care about Court politics.” My voice sharpened, matching his. “My point is, if you don't like the idea of politicking your way to the top, why should I? Because I'm human, because I'm female? Or because you've decided you want to bed me?”
The temperature in the coach heated, and not with lust.
“You're in a mood,” he said after what felt like him hovering on the cusp of a less mild response. He straightened and crossed his ankle over his knee, leaning back. “Have you eaten?”
My eyes widened. “You think I'm hangry?”
Andrei paused. “Han. . .gry?”
“Hungry and angry mashed up.”
“Hangry. Hangry. Hmm. English has a few interesting words. We have the same concept, of course, but no single word for it other than fool.”
“Why fool?”
His stiff expression turned quizzical. “What else would you call it when you deprive yourself of sustenance to the point of affecting your manners and ability to reason? Who does that?”
My brows slammed down. “Spoken like someone who's never had to ration. You make it sound like a failure of intelligence. Not everyone can afford to eat whatever they want, whenever they need it.”
There'd been times, especially when I was paying for extra training, that I'd rationed low quality food to the point of dancing under the constant threat of low blood sugar.
“I've offended you,” he said. “My apologies. But have you eaten today?”
I frowned, looking out the window, and crossed my arms over my chest, not wanting to discuss I was still rationing. I probably could have brought some of the fruit with me though.
“Hasannah.” He sounded like he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “We discussed this. This is basic. Mathen is yours, if you tell him—never mind. I begin to understand what I'm dealing with. I'll handle it.”
“I don't know why you have to sound so annoyed,” I said, my arms tightening.
“Really?” The sarcasm in his voice almost made me turn to look at him. “I'd be ridiculed throughout the city for all time if my woman fainted from hunger. Hunger. As if I'm too oblivious or incompetent to see to something as simple as feeding her, since it’s certainly no matter of wealth.”
Oh, chàng trai, ?i nào. Next time I would just lie.
“I'm not poor, I can afford to feed you, Hasannah. You will not eat me into destitution, if that's your concern. Your hunger would also imply you either fear me too much to demand your right to provision if I was mindless enough to need prompting, or you have been conditioned to accept gross neglect.” He glared. “Or, yes, that you're somewhat stupid, and I'd rather not have that said either. If you don't mind.”
“You shouldn't care what people say.”
“Certainly not, if you say so . ” His voice warmed with temper. “And you understand enough about the Courts that you can instruct me on what should and shouldn't concern me? You think this is about my ego?”
Fine. When he put it like that, maybe not.
“Instead of getting angry at me, can you explain, please?” This time, I spoke without any of my mounting frustration.
His silence brimmed with forced patience, and I turned reluctantly to look at him. Once my eyes were on his, Andrei said,
“It's not a simple matter of male ego.” He’d calmed his voice again. “Even so insignificant a rumor, as it must seem to you, could be the basis for a challenge. Of my fitness to rule, of my place as your master.”
I strived, valiantly, to ignore the word master. It wasn't worth re-escalating the argument.
“If I can't take care of one little human, then another Lord will try to take what's mine, whether it be my title or my mate.” He paused. “Is that what you want? To be seized by someone who sees you as a pawn to be taken by force in a power play?”
I lowered my gaze to where his hand rested on his knee, his fingers restless. “Better the devil you know.”
The fingers stilled, then he laughed. “You seem so meek, and then you remind me you have claws.” A sensual note entered his smooth voice. “Will I feel those claws raking down my back soon?”
“Andrei.”
The amusement faded from his voice. “I'm preparing for challenges once it's known I've taken a consort. They won't be able to help themselves. It's rare I give them anything they can use against me.”
I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “That’s what I’m saying. It probably won't come up. If I don't earn a place in the company, on my own merit, then I can't stay in Casakraine.” I sighed. “I just don't think this is going to work. I'd rather we agree, like civilized adults, that we’ll part ways once the showcase is over.”
Bracing myself for another protest, I looked up at Andrei?—
—and pressed against the back of the coach, digging my fingers into my arms, my toes curling.
Fire filled his eyes, staining the whites, and it was as if the bones of his face had thinned, sharpened, the skin gone translucent to reveal the shimmering power beneath.
I'd become comfortable. Despite the flashes of masculine assertiveness and High Fae danger, he'd been so civilized. Kind, almost relentlessly soft-spoken.
“It seems we still have a fundamental miscommunication,” he said.
His voice sounded different.
Stripped of gentle amusement, stripped of sensual warmth, stripped of patience and all the emotions he'd infused his words with that had put me off my guard, made me think he liked me, respected me, wanted to develop a relationship based on compatibility and merged goals.
Andrei didn't yell. He didn't have to.
“If I was unclear before, I apologize. Though I was certain I had eliminated the possibility of doubt regarding what you are.”
I almost couldn't breathe. Tears pricked my eyes because something primal in me was afraid .
“If you're still uncertain, what you are is radthven.”
I stilled. I knew that word. It was one of the useful ones. It wasn’t English, though the direct translation was “mine.” It was the one Cassanian word for 'mine’—Coralene said there were others—she’d taught us as a matter of self-defense because a Cassanian who used it indicated the object of the “mine” was utterly, irrevocably bound to them and they would defend that claim with immediate, lethal force.
It was not a sentimental word. It did not evoke love or affection. It evoked nothing but possession, and the eagerness to kill to keep.
When a Cassanian used radthven, you backed away slowly and didn't breathe until out of sight, hoping you were also out of mind.
Unless you wanted to die. And in that case, have at it. Suicide by immortal was supposedly one of the quicker ways to go.
The twist being if you were the “mine” and also the one resisting, your death was not entirely out of the question either.
“Andrei,” I said, throat dry, my voice barely functional. “You're scaring me.”
“I know. It's your punishment.”
It hurt that he'd try to control me through fear. I tore my gaze away, my fingers trembling. My entire body trembling.
A sigh whispered through the coach and suddenly he leaned forward, lifting me into his arms and draping my legs over his lap. His body was almost hot to the touch, like holding your hands inches in front of a fire. Would he be this hot in bed. . .inside me?
Andrei stroked his right hand down my arm as he cradled me against his chest with his left.
“Hasannah.”
I looked up at the soft command.
“Don’t defy me like this again.”
He stopped caressing my arm and instead ran his thumb over my bottom lip. . .slipped it inside my mouth. I tasted skin, and against my will, my core clenched.
“I've told you that you'll remain with me. I won't let you go. I'm also aware you want to earn your place. I understand. If I have to found company after damn company until one deems you fit, then I will. But you're not leaving Casakraine again unless I'm at your side. Do you understand?”
This entire time he'd watched me, his eyes unblinking.
I nodded, and he slid his thumb from my mouth. “Good. If we have this discussion a third time, I will be displeased, my Anah.”
The arm around my body tightened, and Andrei lowered his head, taking my mouth. His tongue speared between my lips, his hand gripping the inside of my thigh.
I tilted my head back in unconscious submission though half the reason my heart still beat erratically was fear rather than lust.
He conquered, the kiss harsher than before. Teeth scraped my lips, and he plundered my mouth until I had trouble drawing breath. I heard the sound I made, but didn't know if it was a whimper or a moan.
After a time, he lifted his head. “I adore you already. But if you try to leave me, I will?—”
Andrei cut himself off, but I understood. Not saying those last two words was only a courtesy, a nod to my delicate human sensibilities, as he'd probably say. Coralene bleated something similar all the time, a sort of Cassanian catchphrase.
I closed my eyes, turning my head against his chest to hide from his inhuman eyes.
If I tried to leave him, he would kill me.
“Have you ever thought,” he asked quietly, “of doing anything else? If the dancing?—”
“No. If I couldn’t dance, there would be no purpose.”
“None?” An edge in his voice.
I didn’t care. “None. If you want to kill me, take away dance.”
I’d probably regret saying that.