Chapter 37
Like Coming Home
“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Baz?” Moncho said, eyes burning with a glazed fury, jumping from Alobaz to his prisoner.
“Hey,” Baz snapped while he sheathed his sword and pulled up his pants. “Watch yourself.”
“Looks to me like you’re the one who needs to watch yourself.” Moncho looked pointedly at Baz’s enchantress.
Even while tucking his dick inside his pants, Baz stepped in front of her to shield her from Moncho’s scrutiny.
“With her?” Moncho said. “Really? I mean, scorching really? You send away enough whores to keep you busy for an entire star cycle. You could’ve had a new one practically every damn day.
But nooooo. Her. Her! The cunt who tried to kill you, Baz.
Who might’ve succeeded if we hadn’t gotten to you in time. ”
“She wouldn’t have killed me. She was the one who was dying.”
Moncho snorted obnoxiously. “She damn near stabbed you in the heart. Come on!”
Baz drew up the laces of his britches but had to leave them loose. His erection was painfully tight, and even Moncho’s … Monchoness wasn’t yet enough for his dick to forget that he’d just had the most mesmerizing woman of his entire life. That he wanted her still.
She hadn’t asked for his permission to touch him.
He hadn’t granted it. And yet … she hadn’t needed it.
Her touch had felt as natural against his skin as his own.
And she tasted … real and vibrant and … like coming home.
There it was again, the prickish little voice that suggested a possibility so far-fetched it couldn’t be real.
But, by the Ethers, he wanted her so fucking badly. Her scent—her aroused scent—was so dense in the air it was all he could smell. He struggled to organize his thoughts.
“What I do or don’t do is none of your damn business,” Alobaz told Moncho, glancing over his shoulder.
His prisoner’s clothing was destroyed. She clutched the pieces to her chest and middle. So much tantalizingly delicious flesh revealed itself around the torn skirt and bustier.
“Oh, is that what we’re doing now?” Moncho demanded. “Pretending we’re not friends? Just the lofty general of the vast, grand empire and his minion?”
Alobaz turned to face his friend. His shoulders slumped. “No, man, that’s not what we’re doing here.”
“What are you doing here?”
Scorchit, Alobaz had no fucking idea. He ran his hands through his hair again, only to pull more strands free. He frowned.
“Why are you here? You’re early.”
“Good thing too.” He allowed the censure to linger. Alobaz ignored it. “Someone’s here for you. Two someones, actually.”
“Who?”
“A parvnit for you.” Moncho looked over Baz’s shoulder. “A goblin for her.”
“What?”
“The parvnit’s an investigatory soldier in your dad’s whatever-whatever. She won’t shut up about it. It’s fucking annoying.”
“What’s she want?”
“She says she has information about the cunt you need to know.”
Baz glanced at his prisoner. Her face was suddenly tight.
“Did she suggest what?”
“Nope. Says it’s for your ears only.”
“And the goblin?”
“Keeps arguing with the parvnit, though she’s not making it clear about what. Seems, though, that the goblin wants the parvnit to shut the fuck up.”
“So the goblin knows about the prisoner too.”
“Looks like.”
Baz turned toward his prisoner again. He could hardly keep himself from looking at her. “Do you know who they are?”
She gulped, making her dampening collar bob. Baz’s gaze lingered on the graceful column of her throat.
“I do,” she said.
“Is there anything you want to tell me before I go out there?”
“No. But I would like to speak with the two of them before you do.”
“No chance of that.”
“I figured.”
“Still nothing you want to tell me?”
Her eyes seemed to search his, and for a breath Alobaz thought she might relent, share something of herself with him before the new visitors did, willingly, because she wanted to share with him.
“No. Nothing I haven’t already said.”
“You mean that you hate me and still intend to kill me…”
She tipped up her chin in defiance. It didn’t seem to matter one bit that she was the one chained and collared. Her internal fire burned hot and steady.
“That’s right.”
He frowned, sighed, then nodded. Turned his back to her and started for the door.
“How’d they get on the island?”
“Don’t know yet,” Moncho said. “Parvnit’s demanding to see you. Goblin’s glaring daggers at her. But they both look like the abyss did its best to shred them. However they made it here, Mauldrene hasn’t done them any favors.”
“Alright.” Baz wanted to glance back at her. By dragonfire, in truth, if he were to dare admit it to himself, he didn’t want to leave her side.
“Let’s go,” he told Moncho.
Without looking back, he told his enchantress, “I’ll have new clothes for you brought down.” Then he stalked through the door.
Moncho followed and pulled it shut behind him.
At the end of the hall, Baz turned. Moncho wasn’t behind him.
Moncho stood in front of the door, bulging arms crossed, mouth in a hard line. “I’m keeping guard. If she managed to get to you like this…” He shook his head. “Then she’s more dangerous than we thought. I’m not risking her getting loose.”
“There’s no chance of that. Her power’s dampened, and her shackles are shadole.”
“I know. Still.”
Baz wanted to argue, though, logically, he shouldn’t. Moncho was right. If Baz’s prisoner had proven anything, it was that she wielded an unnatural influence over him.
Problem was, deep down, where he’d never tell an essence, where the secret, he feared, would fester, he wanted her to tempt him.