Chapter 24
I’m Your Dream Come True
Alobaz felt the woman before he saw her. A tingle swept along his body like the consuming wisp of a flame, rapidly engulfing him in its tantalizing heat.
His heart leapt at the feeling—an automatic reaction he’d believed long dead.
Lev was saying something to him. Next Moncho was. But all Alobaz could register was this woman.
Her hips swayed. He imagined his hands digging into them, gripping her hard.
A band of exposed skin circled her slim waist; he’d drag his lips across it.
Her breasts were practically spilling from her bustier.
He envisioned himself ripping them free of it before self-awareness slammed into him, attempting to douse the fire.
When his eyes climbed to her face, he sucked in a sharp breath he normally wouldn’t have allowed himself.
She was the single most stunning woman he’d seen in all his long life.
Her eyes were a golden brown. With the sunshine lighting them up, they were almost amber, but not quite.
A rare gem he had no name for. Her skin was a deep tan, her hair a shade darker as it bounced in soft waves around her bare shoulders.
Her lips were plush, her lower lip so deliciously plump it was as if she were slightly pouting.
Her face was perfect. Her body was perfect. The woman had no flaws, not one.
Something hit him. He started. Looked from the woman to his friends.
Lev’s hand was still on his shoulder.
“Are you even listening to us?” Lev asked. “’Cause you don’t look like you’re paying attention.”
Alobaz looked at Lev, really tried to keep his eyes on him. But all on their own they veered behind him.
Landed on her again.
She was halfway across the street—headed his way, he thought with a skip of his heart.
Lev followed his gaze. So did the others. Probably every Galmeenian out there with them was staring. How could they not?
“Ohhhhh,” Lev said, whistling under his breath. “Dayum. Now that’s a woman. No offense, Zi.”
“None taken,” Zi said. “I’m not into women. But I could be into this one, I think.”
“Seriously? ’Cause I’d pay to watch that. Scorch it, I’d pay a fortune to be in on that.”
The enchantress took her time crossing the wide street at such a leisurely pace she had to be aware of the attention she drew. Alobaz’s friends parted, allowing her to approach him—though they didn’t retreat. She was a stranger, and Alobaz had myriad enemies.
She stopped in front of him. She was half a head shorter than he was, which made her tall for a female, and perfect for him.
She dragged her eyes up and down his body in open appraisal, arching her brows as she did so, indicating, he thought, that she was impressed.
While she studied him, the sounds on the street dampened to a muffled hush.
He examined her face. She looked nothing like his Arabella, who’d been small with a pleasant face that wasn’t plain to anyone who knew her and had been blessed by her laughter.
It had been her warmth that transformed an otherwise ordinary face into one so pretty that Alobaz hadn’t forgotten a single thing about it in all these centuries.
His Arabella had had strawberry-blond hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and a too-wide smile that revealed practically all her teeth—his favorite feature. She’d been joy personified.
This woman lacked Arabella’s joy … yet something enticing—mesmerizing, even—sparked behind her eyes.
If this enchantress reminded him of anyone, it had to be Shen.
Unlike his Arabella, Shen had been a s?nglure—a masterfully cunning one.
Shen had pulled his strings so adeptly that it had taken him an embarrassing—and ultimately tragic—amount of time to discover she was reporting to his parents.
At the order of the emperor, she had pointed Alobaz in any which direction Junot wanted, converting Alobaz into the submissive creature his father had always desired.
The Bazrian Seven should have been the Bazrian Eight, and they would have if not for Shen and his blind faith in her. He’d been so eager to love again, to believe he could love again… He should have been the one to pay the price for his idiocy—not Cal.
Alobaz could never—would never—allow a s?nglure to get that close to him again.
She would only betray him.
This perfectly beautiful woman who stood before him was not only a s?nglure, but a very powerful one. Her blood smelled of unbreakable iron, the olandry flower in full bloom, and the untamable sea—intoxicating.
Her smile unfurled slowly, at once a precious secret being revealed, to be treasured, and also a snare, the kind that would attempt to hack his legs off at the knees, hobbling him.
Even sensing the danger she posed, his heart still thudded once—a betrayal to Arabella’s memory.
But then, hadn’t he betrayed his wife a thousand times over, in a thousand awful ways?
Except for his appearance, which would scarcely change until his death, his Arabella wouldn’t recognize the man he’d become without her.
“Good day to you, handsome,” said the woman—a temptress, the most mesmerizing he’d ever endured.
Her voice was more enthralling than her scent. It was a rolling purr that conjured darkened bedrooms, tangled sheets, and the musk of sex clinging to sweaty skin.
From somewhere beyond her—Alobaz couldn’t look away, dammit—Lev groaned, at the seduction that was her voice, he knew.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she said, and heat flushed his body.
Had his back not already been pressed to a post, he would have taken a step back to carve out some safety between him and her. When he found himself leaning toward her, he understood he was lying to himself. This woman could too easily cast her spell over him.
A powerful s?nglure, who was the physical embodiment of sexual desire, looking for him? Alarm bells should have been clanging all throughout his body instead of a rapid, excited heartbeat.
He scowled and crossed his arms, expanding the space between them what little he could.
He’d fought monsters, creatures, and warriors of all sorts, some manageable, others so terrifying lesser men fled as fast as their feet—or steeds—would carry them.
It had been a long while since Alobaz had been scared. Centuries, perhaps. But today, this temptress? She could all too easily get to him. She could ruin him and all he cared about.
He’d believed his heart to be fully hardened. He hardened it further, against this woman, this new danger which didn’t yet have a name.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Lev said, his voice filtering through Alobaz’s heartbeat, still too loud in his ears, dammit.
“Nothing to say,” Alobaz said.
The temptress’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she couldn’t believe he wasn’t falling over himself to flirt back with her.
He guessed no man—or woman—had ever denied her. The temptress had the look of someone who got whatever she wanted. Whenever she wanted it. Always.
“Nothing to say?” she said.
“That’s right.”
She took a single step forward, closing the space between them until it felt as if her breasts splayed against his chest, even while they were still tethered—barely—to her bustier, a foot from him.
She hummed. “Well … I have plenty I’d like to say to you.”
Without his approval, he began to harden. His frown deepened as he willed his body to fight its natural responses. Because there was no denying it, no common sense to override it—his body wanted this woman. Badly.
“Let ’er say it, bro,” Lev said, with an hm-mm.
“Not interested,” Alobaz said.
“Huh,” said the temptress. Surprised, exactly as he’d guessed. She wasn’t used to being turned down.
She leaned closer.
Now a mere half foot separated their chests. Her eyes were as clear as if lumoons shone behind them.
“I can’t say I expected that response,” she said.
“Neither did I,” Lev grumbled.
Alobaz couldn’t take his eyes from the temptress to point a silent, Shut up, his way. He focused on calming his body’s reactions.
She inched her mouth so close to his that he imagined her breath mingling with his.
“If you think those other ladies have … satisfied you…” She spoke slowly, drawing out key words with sultry pauses and consonant rolls—ladies, satisfied—as if she hadn’t already unnerved him enough.
“I assure you … none of them will do to you the things I plan on doing … to you.”
She leaned in more.
Her hair slid across her shoulders and brushed against his shirt, where he imagined how the strands would feel against his skin—like the softest silk threads.
“I’ll give you the experience of a lifetime.”
“You think highly of yourself,” Alobaz heard himself say.
She smiled again, so near his face that he felt her one-sided smirk as much as saw it.
“I have good reason to,” she said. “Let me show you.”
She reached a hand forward.
He tensed, thinking she’d touch him.
Instead, she caressed the air directly above a shoulder, back and forth, back and forth, a breath from making contact.
A frisson—raw energy—bolted down his spine.
“I’ll leave an impression you’ll never forget,” she said, her lips hugging each word before spilling it.
“By the Ethers, man,” Lev said. “Take her up on it, already. This is torture.”
He had no idea.
“No,” Alobaz said. “I’m not looking for company.”
The temptress’ smile tightened for a second so quick it was possible it hadn’t happened. Her smile widened. “Aw, see, you’re missing an important point. I’m not ‘company.’ I’m your dream come true. You just don’t know it yet. I’ll take you places you’ve never been before.”
“Thanks.” Should he be thanking her for making him lose control of himself? “But still no.”
With a creak, the door to Slake swung open. A few of the whores emerged, along with Crute, all blinking at the sudden sunlight. Crute carried a bag, a rough one made to hold grains, braced in both arms.