Chapter Seventeen

 

Malachi had lifted her instinctively to keep their feet from getting tangled up so she now rested fully against him. Her petite body fit his perfectly. The missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle of his body. Her ass was perfectly curved and tenderly cradled his groin. The sweet dip of her back fit his torso, her head next to his. Her small hands rested on his where he clasped her waist.

In this position, their hearts were aligned, beating in unison. Her hair tickled his nose. Malachi brushed his face against the feather light strands. Her body was softer, more pliant than it appeared when she was in Guardian mode. At this moment, she was all woman. A woman whose body his remembered fondly if the bulge in his trousers was any indication.

“You can put me down now,” her calm whisper rasped in the dark.

Put her down. Yes, he needed to put her down and step away. His muscles tensed as he prepared to do just that, but his subconscious had other plans. Before he realized his own intent, his arms slid around her completely, pulling her deeper into his body. He hardened more behind the zipper of his jeans. The soft press of her ass tempting him to get closer.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, brushing his lips against skin soft as rose petals. He breathed deeply of her floral scent, letting it seep into his pores. Females were no mystery to him, but this one made his body, mind, and soul burn. Her body was tense. Malachi stifled his sigh. She was still cold, though her body was oh so warm. Unable to torment himself further, he carefully slid her body down his.

Once her feet touched the ground, she spun out of his hands. He opened his eyes. He still couldn’t see worth a shit, but soft green light five feet ahead of him told him Lani was looking away and that she wasn’t untouched by his play. Emotion welled inside his chest. She wasn’t immune to him as much as she pretended to be.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered to her with a cocky lilt to his voice. He felt like he could take on a giant. She could try to hide from him, but she was just as conflicted and confused as he was quickly becoming.

She said nothing for several heartbeats. The green glow disappeared and reappeared as though she were slowly blinking.

“The corridor ends in a doorway five yards ahead,” she rasped back emotionlessly, the glow extinguished leaving them shrouded in darkness again.

Scowling at her, Malachi silently trailed behind her. Now that he had a better fix on her scent, it was easier to follow her in the blackness. When the smell of gardenias became stronger, he knew she’d stopped so he did as well. He sensed her waiting for him to touch her again, but he fought the impulse.

Instead, he leaned forward. He allowed his lips to touch the shell of her ear. “On the count of three…” he said against the cool, soft skin.

*****

Shade felt pinned in place. Her body was ready for action, coiled to burst through the closed door, but the second his silky lips touched her ear, her mind did a complete shutdown.

It was worse than when he’d kissed her neck and held her so closely. Her body remembered what his had done to it. Her heart pounded and every inch of her body he’d touched had gone up in flames. This time, she knew what those lips felt like on every inch of her body.

“One.”

Warm, moist air flowed into her ear and down her neck making her shiver.

“Two.”

Her nipples hardened. She had to focus! They could get killed if she wasn’t paying-

“Three.”

Shade’s muscles knew what was expected of them even if her brain was on hiatus. Her foot lifted, unerringly finding the spot just below the latch. Her brain kicked into gear as the door burst open spilling muted light into the corridor.

She went low into the room doing a quick scan, cataloging the sprawl of bodies draped on every flat surface. Malachi was right behind her, his eyes sweeping for Pascal. He wasn’t in the room, but three other satyrs and five nymphs were.

One of the satyrs opened his eyes blearily. He had two women draped over him one with her hand cupped over his genitals, the other cushioning his head with her breasts. He looked confused, but was evidently still drunk enough not to care who’d just broken in because he fell back against his fleshy pillows and commenced to snoring.

None of the others moved. Naked skin glinted in the light of two small lamps, the air heavy with musk, alcohol, and perfumes. The satyrs had been enjoying an orgy until some point in the night when they all passed out.

There were two doors leading out of the main chamber. Malachi nodded left. Shade went right. Pascal was down here somewhere. Her magic flared, telling her she was close. She paused next to her door. He wasn’t in there. She knew it without entering.

Leaving her doorway, she joined Malachi at his doorway. He gave her a questioning glance. Nodding silently, she indicated Pascal was in the room. He nodded.

He pushed open the door. Silence greeted them. Shade couldn’t tell if Pascal was awake or not, just that he was definitely in this room. She saw the corner of a mattress with tangled sheets as they crept into the room. Her magic sent out an alarm. Too late.

She was grabbed from behind. Shouts erupted. Lights were flipped on and Malachi nodded his head. “Let’s do it.”

Smiling fiercely, Shade slammed her head back, shattering cartilage and earning herself a howl of pain. Quick as lightning, she spun around, knife at the ready. The satyrs had awakened and weren’t looking too pleased to have their lair invaded. The females were crowded in a corner like sheep. The male she’d hit was Pascal. His nose bled heavily as he cursed them to the nine hells.

Two of the satyrs hurled themselves at Malachi while the third went for Shade. Executing a quick sidestep, she bashed the hilt of her dagger into his head. The satyr hit the floor like a frat boy at an all-night kegger. Pascal came at her again.

Spinning to her left, she sent a roundhouse kick to his torso, knocking the breath out of him in a whoosh. She followed it up with a right uppercut. His head went back. Grabbing his hair, she jerked him against her with her knife resting against his throat.
“Don’t move,” she growled in his ear. He went still.

Malachi had already disposed of his pair of satyrs. He shook his head slightly. Yanking one of the sheets from the bed, he tore it into strips which he used to tie up the unconscious satyrs. Once all three were secured, he beckoned the females closer.

Shade pulled Pascal further into the room until her back was against the wall. The five nymphs were timid until they got a better look at Malachi’s face. Their hungry eyes crawled all over his body. Eagerly stepping forward, they surrounded him.

Naked skin in shades ranging from ivory to chocolate, twined around Malachi as they cooed up at him. He was stroked worshipfully. He took it all in stride, flashing the females the same charming smile he’d used on Shade.

“Ladies, would you allow me to tie you up?” he asked them, his dimple peeking out.

Shade knew her lip was curling. It was an involuntary reaction to the breathless chorus of ‘yeses’, she told herself. Her stomach roiled with anger and yes, jealousy. She wanted to cut out their lisping tongues and shave them bald.

Mentally maiming each nymph, Shade held Pascal firmly. Within moments, all five females were tied up, though not as tightly as the satyrs. Pascal was rigid against Shade, fury vibrating along his frame, but he didn’t move.

Malachi turned to them. “I think we should talk in the next room, don’t you?” His eyes passed over Shade speculatively.

The females instantly sent up a round of protests. They wanted the male to play with them. Shade almost spat on them as she guided Pascal from the room. They reached for her as well, but only because they saw the glamour of a young male she projected.

Pascal knew she wasn’t male as he was pressed up against her chest, but he still made no move to get away from her. Once they were in the main room, Malachi closed Pascal’s door, tracing a few wards on it.

“That should keep them in there for a little while, at least,” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, you’re Omar Pascal,” he said conversationally, leaning against the wall. “Nice place.”

“You’ll die for this,” Pascal hissed.

“I always hear that, yet here I am.” He raised his hands as though to say ‘can you believe it?’ “I just have some questions for you, Omar.”

“I know what you want to ask me and I’ll die before I tell you anything!”

Shade tightened her grip on the knife, ready to slash if she had to. She wanted to do it anyway, but Malachi was shaking his head as though he read her mind.

“Don’t get so worked up, Omar. My friend here doesn’t seem to like you much and I’d rather not have to clean blood out of my clothes.”

Omar laughed harshly. “Do you think anything you do will be worse than what they’ll do to me if I talk?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Shade whispered against his ear.

He went still. Shade hadn’t disguised her voice on purpose. He’d heard her speak the day his leader had died. He’d screamed in horror at what she’d done before killing the Satricarion.

“Y-you,” he breathed.

“Sh, Omar. This is between you and me. You will tell this male what he wants to know.” Shade made sure to keep her voice low and even.

Malachi looked at them carefully, his eyes darting between Shade and Pascal though he made no move to interrupt.

“I’ll tell you, oh Gods, don’t let her hurt me,” he whimpered at Malachi.

Arching his eyebrow, he crossed his arms over his chest. “That works for me. Who are your other contacts?”

“I-I don’t know their names.”

“That isn’t going to work, Pascal.” Malachi’s voice was cold, just as cold as it had been when he spoke to her earlier.

Shade pressed against Pascal’s neck, her threat unmistakable.

He rose to his tip-toes. “O-one of them was part of the attack against the Chieftain! H-harrity! A-and the Shade!” he screeched. “Shade is the key!”

It took everything Shade had not to show her shock at hearing her codename being used by a low level Eturian. It was no secret the Eturians had assassins, but their identities were kept secret. And with the exception of this satyr, she’d had no witnesses in her long years of work.

“Who is Shade?” Malachi then demanded.

Shade felt her heart lurch. Gods, she couldn’t be exposed yet. She wanted to tell him herself, make him understand-

“A-a-ssassin,” Pascal whispered. She felt sweat trickle down his throat. He might not know for sure she was the Shade but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Eturian or Veilerian?”

“E-Etur-”

Her hand jerked, severing his throat. Hot blood coated her fingers, spraying Malachi’s face as Pascal struggled to breathe through the gaping wound in his neck. Her eyes met his livid gaze. Pascal sank to his knees, clawing at Malachi’s legs.

“I’m sorry,” she told him although she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, killing Pascal, or being who she was.