Chapter Five #2
“A lover?” He smiled to himself, pleased despite the fact that he was who he was, and thus not looking for a romantic partner, certainly not one who was as intriguing as Mabel. Then his mouth went and said the last thing he wanted. “Not currently. Would you like the position?”
“Dating a dragon isn’t in the plan for my life,” she answered, dampening both his spirits and his rising libido, then gave life to both by asking, “You want to have sex with me? Really?”
“Yes,” he admitted, but reminded himself he didn’t need anything but casual hookups. Anything else was dangerous. “But I am not looking for a relationship.”
“Of course not,” she said, her tone just mocking enough to prod his ire.
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m not good enough for a relationship with you? I am the master of the Shadow Tribe, and a dragon hunter! In addition, I’m a thoughtful lover. There’s no reason you should use that tone of derision toward me.”
“Whoa, now,” she said with a little laugh, holding up her hands. “I just meant that most men who look like you aren’t into being more than friends with benefits.”
“Men who look like me?” If anything, he was more outraged, wondering that this ballerina, this reaper with her enticing self, had the nerve to speak thusly to him.
Part of him wanted to argue that he wasn’t the sort of man she was describing, but at the same time, he recognized that was exactly what he was.
“You know,” Mabel said, waving a hand toward him. “Drop-dead handsome. Gorgeous. Ready for the runway of a Milan fashion show. Does that suitably appease your wounded male ego?”
“Not really, but it’s a moot point, since you obviously aren’t interested in a situationship.” He managed to wrap his tattered pride around him, but he doubted if it improved her impression of him.
And suddenly, that opinion mattered far more than he liked. Dammit, she was just a reaper, a tool to be used and set aside when he was done with her. That was all.
“Sex without commitment, you mean?” She thought for a moment, then gave an elegant gesture with her hand.
He could watch her hands all day, he mused.
Her movements were so beautiful, her arms graceful beyond words.
“I’m no prude, if that’s what you mean. I’m OK with mutual itch scratching if the other person is right for that sort of a thing.
Why ... uh ... why are we talking about this?
Do you want to be friends with bennies?”
Hunter clamped down on the word yes just as it was about to leave his lips.
He had several things he had to take care of, Deus being uppermost on the list, and that left little time for dallying.
Instead of telling her just how much pleasure taking her to bed would offer them both, he tried to focus on the important issues of the moment.
“If Deus is seeking to remove Bael from the Thirteenth Hour—by means of my élan vital, or some other way—I must inform the other dragons. He’s clearly gone mad in his attempt to strike at my twin and me. ”
“I have to say that trying to bring back Bael isn’t a sign of good mental health,” Mabel agreed, and then fell silent for the few minutes it took him to text the wyverns and friendly tribe masters a brief recap of the conversation.
“You’re not going to let me have your sword, are you?” she asked when he finished.
“I might,” he answered, taking both of them by surprise.
Her brows rose. “Really? Wait, you’re not going to try to coerce me into sexy times with the offer of giving me the sword, are you? Because I’m not into transactional sex.”
“I have yet to coerce a woman into my bed, and I’m certainly not going to start now,” he said with great dignity.
“I would, however, consider helping you break free of whatever hold this broker has on you. I wouldn’t give up my élan vital, but I’m not opposed to the idea of using it to gain your freedom. ”
“You’re not opposed because you want to have sex with me?” she asked, suspicion fairly dripping from her words.
“No.” He gave her a long look, one that took in her freckled nose, the gray eyes now filled with sadness, and her crumpled body language.
The protective streak that was a normal response to those he cared about flared to life again at the sight of her obvious misery.
“That is, yes, I’d like to make love to you, but no, it is not for that reason that I am offering to help you with the broker. ”
“Then why?” she asked, confusion dancing across a face he decided was outright adorable.
“Because you need my assistance, and if I am to get Sally’s aid in finding a new esprit, I must have your help rescuing a woman trapped in the Eleventh Hour. Sally said she’s sending over a temporary—holy shite!”
To his surprise, horror, and finally bemusement, a being shimmered up from the fireplace, gliding toward them. She was clad in a white gown of some sort, with long, wet black hair that hung down over her face, obscuring it completely.
Mabel screamed and stood up on the couch, doing a little dance as she pointed and shouted, “Oh my god, it’s the girl from that Japanese horror movie come to get us!”
“Japanese horror movie?” he asked, automatically moving in front of Mabel as the girl stopped on the other side of the coffee table. “What are you going on about, woman? This is the esprit I just mentioned was being sent to help us.”
“Hullo,” the esprit said, her voice soft as the wind, with a distinct British accent. “My name is Nika. Sally says there are some Maya gods who want to kill you. I can help you for twelveish hours, but after that, I have to return to the well.”
“The well! THE WELL!” Mabel shrieked, still doing a dance on his couch. He eyed her, holding out a hand, which, to his relief, she took. “See? I told you she was from a horror movie.”
“The well is what we call the collection of esprits waiting to find someone to serve,” Nika answered, shifting slightly so she could see Mabel, her hair still dripping slowly as it covered her face.
“My élan vital is over here,” he said, his fingers tightening a little around Mabel’s when she balked at walking past the esprit. “I believe we’re ready to leave, so if you wouldn’t mind?”
“My pleasure,” Nika said, padding softly past them, wet footprints clear on the wood floor.
“This is just bizarre,” Mabel said in a barely audible tone. “And honestly, I think I’m in over my head.”
She started to head for the door, but Hunter, experiencing a most unexpected flash of panic, quickly cast a spell on the door to keep her from opening it. “I understand the feeling, but there’s no sense in refusing to be reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Her voice came out with a hint of a growl to it as she struggled to open the door. She glared at it for a moment before spinning around to frown at him. “Unlock the door!”
“It is unlocked,” he said, taking up his élan vital, now complete with Nika having turned into a golden ball of light before settling into the empty socket just below the hilt. “But I spelled it to not let you out.”
“You’re holding me prisoner?” she asked, anger mingled with disbelief flaring to life in her eyes.
“Think of it more as me ensuring you don’t get up to any trouble,” he said, quickly checking an incoming text from the wyverns. “We have a time limit due to Nika’s availability, and I’d rather get the business with the Hour over so I can attend to your broker nonlover.”
“That’s all I need,” she said to the door, glaring at it with a decidedly pugnacious expression. “A deranged dragon who can cast spells. What are you going to do to me? Curse me to have backward feet? Arms that bend weirdly? Or is there some other horrible act you have in mind?”
He laughed, truly delighted by the way her mind worked. “There are many things I wish to do to you, but none of it involves backward feet. Let me just inform the tribe what’s going on, and then we can get started on the rescue.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t help you with this project, but I’m under a deadline of my own,” she protested as he broke the spell and opened the door, escorting her out to the main hall.
The walls were covered in more weapons, ranging from swords to pikes, morning stars, a plethora of knives and daggers, and finally a couple of bows kept in case his brother visited.
Most of his tribe members were in their homes dotted around the compound, but a good dozen—those who were on duty and a handful who weren’t—could be found going about their business within the lodge.
All of them turned to look when he and Mabel reappeared.
“This is Mabel. She is a reaper. She is assisting me on a job I have for the former Sovereign. Mabel, these are members of my tribe.” He introduced all the members present, ending with a stocky, dark-haired and dark-eyed man who leaned against a pillar, watching with speculation.
“And this is Javier, my friend and elite guard.”
“A most decided pleasure to meet you, lovely lady.” Javier unbent enough to make Mabel a bow, but the look he shot to Hunter was filled with pure amusement.
Javi was no stranger to Hunter’s way with women, but for a reason he refused to acknowledge, he was annoyed by the manner his friend was ogling Mabel.
Hunter put a possessive hand on her back, and turned her toward the doors. “Yes, she is lovely, but commenting on her splendid legs is out of line. Please see human resources for correction. I’ll be back when you see me. Come along, Mabel. We have a woman to rescue, and Sally to appease.”