A Risky Proposition (16 page)

He gazed at me steadily, the flecks of green light in his eyes like sparks igniting flames of desire throughout my body.  I sucked in a breath as I felt a gentle caress move down my cheek and across my jaw to linger over the sensitive expanse of my neck.  My eyes never left his.  I knew that he hadn’t moved to touch me.  And the knowledge that he was doing it with his mind somehow made it infinitely more erotic.

“I want you, Sydney.”  His words were a dark seduction.  “Tell me what you wish and I will give it to you.  I can give you more than you could ever imagine.”

The caress moved lower, lightly tracing my collar bone, and lower still, dipping into the valley between my breasts and then dividing to spread enticingly across their upper curves.  The sensation was mesmerizing, and my lust-drenched brain was suddenly having trouble remembering why it shouldn’t allow something that felt so wonderful to continue.

“Oh, Goddess,” I murmured.  “I wish…”

I felt an uncomfortable tug at the core of my being.  It jerked me back to awareness and sent me straight into panic mode.  My twenty minutes were up and I was about to be pulled out of the room.  I huddled into a ball, reflexively wrapping my arms around my midsection in an attempt to resist the pull.

“Balthus, I have to go now.  Tell me how to find this goblin—you must remember something that could lead me to him—please!” I pleaded desperately.

There is another who was witness to our bet.  I will tell you how to contact her, if you swear not to reveal her identity to the Seelie police.

I realized with shock that he hadn’t spoken aloud.  I had heard him in my mind.

“I swear!” I whimpered, the force of the pull becoming painful.

Her name is Ophelia Jameson.  You will find her in the 8
^th
floor penthouse at your hotel.  She was with me that night; she may remember something.

I sobbed in relief as I released the tension I held in my body, no longer able to resist the tug of the magic attempting to transport me.

I only tell you this as an act of faith.  I intend for you to spend eternity at my side, Sydney.  Do not disappoint me.

Balthus’ voice faded to silence as everything went black.  I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the glaring brightness of the cell with the bronze oil lamp sitting on the table.  It was disorienting to realize that I had just been inside something so impossibly small.  Lorien hovered over me in concern, shedding purple faerie dust, and Sparrow supported me by my elbow, a furious expression tightening his features.

“Damn it, Sydney!  Why did you resist the transport spell?” he exploded, his brogue thickened with irritation.

“Why didn’t anyone bother to tell me that Balthus was the damned king’s son?” I sputtered.  It was the first thing that popped into my head to deflect his question.

Sparrow’s grip on my elbow loosened, his gaze raking me uncertainly.  “It didn’t seem that important.  I didn’t think it would serve any purpose but to frighten you.  How could it possibly have helped?”

I snorted.  “A girl likes to know what she’s getting into, especially when she goes for a solo interview with an amoral death djinn trying to gain possession of her soul!”

“You knew what to expect—and you nearly let him have you anyway!  You started to make a wish just before I tried to pull you out, and then you resisted leaving him!”  Sparrow dropped my elbow and turned away, swearing softly.

“You don’t know…”  I was going to tell him he didn’t know what it was like to try to resist a death djinn in full seduction mode, but I realized it probably wouldn’t go over too well.  Then I replayed what he’d said and felt my face flush scarlet.  “You were watching?”

He glared at me.  “Of course we were watching.  This is a prison; Balthus is an inmate.”

Comprehension dawned as I glanced up at the small television in the corner, and mortification silenced me as I replayed all the intimate things Balthus had said to me.  I tried to recall if I’d said anything embarrassing in reply, but all I could remember was the heat of his invisible touch and the way I’d responded to it.

Sparrow sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair.  “He didn’t tell you anything he hadn’t already told us, Sydney.”

I briefly surfaced from my self-torment to consider that statement.  Balthus had obviously known we were being observed, which must have been why he’d spoken to me in my mind when he’d told me about Ophelia Jameson in the 8
^th
floor penthouse.  And I’d sworn not to lead the police to her, which meant not telling Sparrow. 

Goddess knew I shouldn’t feel any loyalty toward Balthus, but for some reason I was still reluctant to break my word to him.  Bending the truth was one thing, but lying outright had always made me uncomfortable.  Not to mention the fact that I questioned the wisdom of breaking an oath to a death djinn—especially one who was already two thirds of the way to gaining possession of my soul. 

What could it hurt just to talk to Ophelia on my own?  If I found out anything of use, I could always take the information to Sparrow without revealing her identity.  I realized Sparrow was speaking again.

“I can’t even believe I agreed to this.  We gained nothing, and almost lost you in the process,” he railed, pacing the confined length of the cell.  “You knew what could happen—and you still fought to stay with that bastard!”

I glanced over to find Lorien hovering silently in a corner, watching us with a troubled expression.  I lay my hand on Sparrow’s forearm as he passed, coaxing him to a stop.  He stared stonily at the wall as I looked up at him. 

“I didn’t want to stay with him; I wanted to get information out of him.  I was hoping he’d tell me something to help us find the goblin he claims gave him that woman’s soul.  I did almost make a wish, alright?  But you know he used magic to persuade me.  It wasn’t real.  And it wasn’t useless.  It was something I needed to do for my own peace of mind.  If I had to do it over again, I’d do the exact same thing.”

Sparrow finally lowered his eyes to mine, something akin to pain flickering within their blue depths.  “I don’t want you around any more death djinns until we get this resolved.  With your contract two-thirds complete, their hold on you is too strong.”

“Fine by me.  Faeries are far better company than djinns, anyway,” I teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

He shook his head at me, a faint smile playing around the corners of his lips.  “How do you do that to me, Sydney?  You say you’re not a witch, yet you always seem able to make me fall under your spell.”

My small chuckle faded as he covered my hand with the warmth of his palm, his fingertips sliding across, then beneath mine.  He grasped my hand in his and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss.  It was a charmingly old-fashioned gesture, but there was nothing old-fashioned about my body’s response.

“I think it’s past time to call it a day,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze and trailing his fingers across my sensitive palm as he released it.  “I’ll let you know if anything relevant turns up with regard to Balthus.”

I could still feel the tingle of his fingertips as he led the way out of the cell and back up the long hallway.  Lorien was being so quiet that I glanced back to make sure she was trailing behind us.  She sent me a troubled half-smile.  “I’ll go find us a Peg,” she murmured, darting past us toward the exit.

“Sparrow?” I began uncertainly as we passed a pair of security guards.  I was trying to work up the courage to broach the subject of his history with King Moab.  Although it probably wasn’t any of my business, I was dying to know.

“Hmm?” he answered, sounding lost in thought.  He held the door for us and I waited to speak again until he fell into step beside me as we approached the outer gate.

“What happened between you and King Moab?” I asked on a rushed breath.

His expression remained remote as he led us through the courtyard and around the outside of the police station, along white stone walls that glittered in the sun.  When he didn’t answer, I resolved to let it go—at least temporarily.  But then he stopped me as we were almost to the street. 

He put his hands on my shoulders and looked down at me, his gaze intent.

“It’s been a long day, Sydney.  I promise I’ll tell you about King Moab, but some other time, okay?” he said, weariness breaking through the strength in his voice.

“Okay,” I sighed my agreement.  His palms were steady and warm against my upper arms, and my eyelids fluttered closed as I inhaled his spicy scent, struggling to restrain the urge to lean into him.

He let go of my shoulders and I felt one of his hands come up to softly cup my chin, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.  Muscles clenched low in my belly and I stifled a moan as my lips parted in response.

“Take care of yourself, Sydney,” he said in a hushed voice as he released me.

Disappointed at the loss of his touch, I opened my eyes…but he was gone.

Chapter 10 – The Price of Passion

“I’ve never been so sexually frustrated in my life,” I groaned. 

I held the silver coin Sparrow had given me in one palm, keeping it in contact with my skin in the same way I would have worn one of his shirts to surround myself with his scent.  The man made it shockingly easy to forget about Jeremy’s betrayal—
probably too easy
, I thought.  But I wasn’t ready to give up such a pleasant distraction.

I’d found the coin in my pocket when I took off my jeans last night, pulling it out before I thought about what I was doing.  Luckily, it hadn’t transported me back to Balthus’ prison cell.  I studied it curiously now.

I had never seen its like.  It had an ancient feel to it somehow, yet it was as bright and flawless as a newly minted dime.  On one side was a full, lushly blooming tree, depicted in meticulous detail, with hundreds of tiny leaves that glinted in the light.  On the other was an intricate representation of a sun, with curving scroll-work arms and a swirling, energetic mass of Celtic knot-work throughout its center. 

It made me think of Sparrow’s Aegishjalmur tattoo.

I’d slept with the stupid thing under my pillow simply because it reminded me of him.  I couldn’t decide what was more embarrassing—my sudden regression into acting like a teenager with a crush, or my recent difficulty with controlling my body’s response to every half-sidhe or death djinn who came within ten feet of me.

Sunny made a strained sound that I took for commiseration.

“My brain is turning to mush,” I complained.  “I almost sold my soul into eternal enslavement for the promise of ‘endless pleasure’, such that I am apparently ‘incapable of comprehending in my current mortal state’—not once, but twice yesterday. 

“Goddess Sunny, I haven’t gone this long without sex since I started having orgasms!  And I can’t remember ever wanting it this much.  Why did Jeremy have to go and cheat on me?  My life was so simple and comfortable before all this.”

Jeremy—I’d been trying to avoid all thoughts of him, but in my current state of mind I couldn’t help reflecting on the fact that, for the most part, I’d enjoyed our sex-life.  He hadn’t always made sure I finished before he did, and often his idea of foreplay had consisted of tickling me into laughing submission—which was fun sometimes, although admittedly, it could get tiresome.

Well, okay, I guess the sex could have been a little better.  But at least it had been regular.  I hadn’t realized how much I’d miss it.

“Uh, Syd?” Sunny croaked.

Sunny’s tone made me look up from my self-pity party…and up some more, to take in the gorgeous, six-foot blonde woman who hovered uncertainly over me.

“Angelica?” I squeaked.  “How did you…”

“I am so sorry Sydney!  I did not mean to invade your privacy in such an unforgivable manner.  I will just go now.”  She began a rigid walk toward the door, her graceful fingers clenched into fists at her sides.

“Wait!  Angelica, no, please sit with us,” I stuttered.

She cringed and glanced back at me.

“Please,” I reiterated with calm acceptance.  In the last week my mind had gotten about as blown as I thought it was possible to get.  The sudden unexplained appearance of my supermodel housekeeper in the living room was just par for the course.

She sighed and moved stiffly into a chair, crossing her long legs primly and looking uncomfortable in the extreme.

“How did you get in here?” I asked.

Angelica remained awkwardly silent, her blush slowly staining her cheeks a deep shade of crimson. 

Sunny grunted, apparently unable to contain herself, and burst out, “She just appeared there, standing next to you—right out of thin air!”

I looked disbelievingly from her back to Angelica.

Sunny rolled her eyes.  “What?  You’re going to question
me
now, faerie girl?  Tell her, Angelica,” she demanded.

“Sunny is correct,” Angelica finally murmured, seeming to resign herself to an inevitable fate.  “I was drawn to the intensity of your sexual yearnings, Sydney.  I tried to resist the call, but I was unable to.”