Dog with a Bone Page 11

  I clutched the material over my breasts. “Too bad about your allergies.”

  “Tomorrow, after work.” Shaw buried his face in my neck. “I’ll pick up an EpiPen.”

  “Cute.” I screwed my thumbs into his sides until his panting laughter made me chuckle.

  Twisting to break away from me, he hit the edge of the tiny twin bed and tumbled onto the floor, bringing me down on top of him. I landed sprawled across his hips, which Shaw didn’t seem to mind since he gripped them and pressed down as his rolled upward against my core. My eyelids fluttered shut.

  With reverent hands, Shaw slid my top down my arm, tossing it aside. I figured him for a breast man, but he just lay there, soaking in the view. “Beautiful.” One leg hole in my shorts was intact even if the other side was cut down the seam. As he tugged the fabric aside, a rough growl vibrated through his chest. White rims circled his irises, but he was still Shaw, still with me. That primal, hungry part of him gazed out at me longingly, there one minute and gone the next.

  Brushing his hands aside, I unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his jeans. His zipper tab was pinched between my fingers, his claws embedded in the carpet, when pounding started on my door.

  A low snarl rose up his throat. “Ignore it.” He gripped my hip hard enough to leave bruises.

  Eyes crossing as he continued grinding against me, I slid the tab down one tortuous click at a time.

  “Marshal Thackeray,” a prim voice called. “I assure you ignoring us won’t make us go away.”

  “Damn fae super hearing,” I grumbled.

  “We heard that,” replied the slightly irked voice.

  Shaw pushed up onto his elbows, leaning forward to capture my bottom lip between his teeth. The sound I made when he bit down earned me a throat-clearing through the door.

  “I’m coming,” I called. Shaw’s husky chuckles made me flush ten shades of red. “Shaw.”

  “Jackson,” he corrected as he gripped my waist and lifted me onto my feet.

  Unable to fit my mouth around his name, I scrambled over his long legs, hit the bathroom where I snagged a robe, then peeked through the hole in my door. A lean woman with pale blonde hair was checking her watch. Two men flanked her, both wearing black combat fatigues and carrying swords.

  I gulped. “Um, Shaw, you might want to zip up for this.”

  Taking his time, he stood, fastened his pants and drew his shirt back over his head. He was well on his way to looking respectable by the time I opened the door and our guests entered my room.

  “We have a lead on the poacher who supplied the Richardsons.” The petite woman wrinkled her nose at the chair by the desk. One of her guards removed a packet of antibacterial wet wipes from his pocket and wiped down the seat. After the streaks dried, she sat. “Your magistrates were kind enough to offer your services to us in the hopes of apprehending them before they cross back into Faerie.”

  Shaw came to my side and folded his arms over his chest. “Who is us exactly?”

  “My name is Irene Vause.” Her laser-sharp glare would cut through steel like butter. “I’m a magistrate with the Northeastern Conclave.”

  I frowned at her. “An interdivisional loan?”

  A dangerous edge entered Shaw’s voice. “Why aren’t your own people handling this?”

  Her cornflower-blue gaze locked with mine. “We have our reasons.”

  “Thierry is a week into her OJT,” Shaw said. “I’m not sure working outside our district is wise.”

  Another time, when I was less naked and more informed, I might have argued with him and his ideas for me. But he was my training officer, and my friend, and I trusted him to have a better reason for stepping between me and an opportunity than some misguided-caveman, almost-had-sex instinct.

  “I am sure,” Vause answered in a quiet voice. “We will double any bonuses you incur and cover all travel expenses.” The edges of her lips twitched. “I understand you enjoy flying, Marshal Shaw.”

  I gritted my teeth in what I hoped passed for a smile. I knew that joyride would bite us on the ass one day, but I figured Mable or someone from accounting would be issuing the wrist slaps and not an actual magistrate. Considering I had only met our magistrates once in the five years I had been sheltered by them—on the night I was examined before being given sanctuary—I wasn’t sure what protocol was in dealing with them. How hard could I push? How hard would they push back?

  As if reading my mind, Vause asked, “What do you think of our proposal, Marshal Thackeray?”

  I turned to my partner. “Shaw?”

  “I asked for your opinion.” Vause narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Not his.”

  Once again, the truth got the better of me. “I want the job.”

  “The money...” her gaze took in our surroundings, “...could improve your situation.”

  I took a step forward, and her guards did too. “I’m not in this for the money.”

  Amusement danced in her eyes, her expression softening. “Your father would be proud to hear you say so.”

  I set my jaw. “Paternal approval isn’t a great motivator for me.”

  “Cash works for me,” Shaw volunteered. “Not that anyone asked.”

  Vause raised a hand. The guard on her right placed an envelope on her palm. She then offered it to me. “There are two first-class tickets to Wallagrass, Maine in there. Along with a few incidentals.”

  Tearing open the flap, I thumbed through the contents. Two tickets and a check for ten thousand dollars. Made out to me. “A few incidentals?” My fingers trembled. “This is a whole contingency plan.”

  “You have one hour.” Vause held out her hand a second time. The guard on her left reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small object. The scent of strawberry lemonade filled the room as he popped the cap on a bottle of hand sanitizer. He squirted a generous amount into her palm, stopping at her nod. She stood while rubbing her hands together. “I expect a call when you land.” She motioned to her guards. “You’ll find my card in the envelope.”

  With a warning glance at me, the guard on the right ushered Vause into the hall. The guard who had been stationed on her left followed them out and shut the door on their heels with a gentle snick.

  “From Wink, Texas to Wallagrass, Maine sounds like a long flight.” Shaw hooked my robe with his finger and dragged me closer. “We should pack our own food. I hear what they serve on planes is terrible.” His thumb absently stroked the lumpy knot in my belt. “What do you think?”

  I bit my lip. “What are you in the mood for?”

  His warm mouth closed over mine. “I never did get my chicken-salad sandwich.”

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  About the Author

  Hailey’s desire to explore without leaving the comforts of home fueled her love of reading and writing. Whenever the itch for adventure strikes, Hailey can be found with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen or squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after.

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  Titles by Hailey Edwards

  Now Available:

  Araneae Nation

  A Heart of Ice

  A Hint of Frost

  A Feast of Souls

  A Cast of Shadows

  A Time of Dying

  A Kiss of Venom

  A Breath of Winter

  A Veil of Secrets

  Daughters of Askara

  Everlong

  Evermine

  Eversworn

  Black Dog

  Dog with a Bone

  Wicked Kin

  Soul Weaver

  Hope dangles by a silken thread.

  A Hint of Frost


  © 2012 Hailey Edwards

  Araneae Nation, Book 1

  When the head of the Araneidae clan is found poisoned in her nest, her eldest daughter, Lourdes, becomes their clan’s new maven. If her clan is to survive, she has but one choice: she must marry before her nest is seized. All she needs is a warrior fierce enough to protect her city and safeguard her clansmen. Such a male is Rhys the Cold.

  Born the youngest son of an impoverished maven, the only things Rhys has to his name are his sword and his mercenary reputation. His clan is starving, but their fondness for the flesh of fellow Araneaeans makes them unwelcome dinner guests. Torn between loyalty to his clan and fascination with his future bride, Rhys’s first taste of Lourdes threatens to melt the cold encasing his heart.

  Amid the chaos of battle, Lourdes’s sister disappears and is feared captured. Lourdes and Rhys pursue their enemies into the southlands, where they discover an odd plague ravaging southern clans as it travels north, to Erania. Determined to survive, Lourdes will discover whether she’s worth her silk or if she’s spun the thread by which her clan will hang.

  Product Warnings: This book contains one mercenary hero with a biting fetish, one determined heroine who gets nibbled, and an answer to the age-old question, “What does dragon taste like?” Matricide and sibling rivalry are available upon request. The house special is revenge, best served cold.

  Chapter One

  Fear kept my steps nimble. All my life, sentries had guarded these underground tunnels beneath the city of Erania. There was no one now. My clansmen hid in their nests, on my orders.

  Darkness warped my sense of direction as cold shriveled the marrow in my bones.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I froze. Were those...footsteps? Pressing my back against the chilled earth of the tunnel walls, I waited for the intruder to pass. No one materialized from whence I’d come. Yet the pounding stuffed my ears. Slumping, I realized my heart was to blame.

  Another time, I would have laughed at how I leapt at shadows in my own clan home, but not this night. No doubt the one shadow I failed to outmaneuver would belong to an invader, the one footstep I ignored would be the one to crush me, and the one breath I held would be my last.

  The people of my clan, the Araneidae, were gentle silk spinners, artisans without armaments.

  I was one of the few Araneidae who favored weapons. Ironic I was unarmed now. Habit made my fingers creep down my thigh, but my quiver was absent and my bow leaned forgotten in a corner of my room. I’d been dressed for bed, not battle, when I witnessed first blood spilled.

  Those who had been our guardians when my head sank into my pillow, the Theridiidae clan, had attacked during the night. The murderous bastards had betrayed us. Casualties littered the city above. Wounded huddled in the tunnel behind me, lives I had but this chance to save. I’d sent a plea for aid to the one clan cruel enough to stave off the Theridiidae invasion and, I hoped, merciful enough I hadn’t signed my death warrant by exposing my soft underbelly to them.

  Gods, I hoped the Mimetidae weren’t hungry.

  Light burned ahead, marking the tunnel’s end. Creeping to the edge where dark tunnel met lit square, I scanned the cobbled roads for intruders. I saw none. No shadows danced. No sound carried. All was quiet in this forgotten sector where stone statuary stood as silent sentinels to the night.

  Swallowing a bitter lump, I stepped from protection onto the uneven pavers.

  Frigid winds sliced my cheeks raw, and my breath hung in clouds suspended before me.

  Between one frantic beat of my heart and the next, darkness coalesced and Theridiidae warriors bled from the shadows I’d just deemed safe. Their faces were familiar. They’d been employed by my father. Sightless eyes...blackened skin...the stink of rotten flesh...both dead...

  I squeezed my eyes shut, stomach roiling, ready to spill.

  “You’re out past your curfew, aren’t you, Lourdes?” The guard’s concern rang genuine until my eyes opened and I caught the eager gleam in his. “Your father will worry.” He presented his arm to me. This morning I would have accepted it without hesitation. “I’ll take you home.”

  His companions smirked, confirming my suspicions. They were conspirators as well.

  “Thank you.” Winter’s chill kissed my bare shoulders, and I shivered. “I know my way.”

  “Do you now?” He stared where my nipples pebbled so hard they burned. “The city at night is a dangerous place.” He rubbed his jaw. “You’re wearing but a scrap of silk.”

  “I forgot my coat.” I forced an embarrassed smile and poised to turn. “I’ll go fetch it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.” My voice rang brittle with the cold and my fear. “I mean, I can do it myself.”

  “Is there something the matter?” His name came to me. Tyrone. He and his men were Theridiidae and guardians of the wall. They had once been trustworthy. Now they would die.

  A bulky male at Tyrone’s right lumbered forward. “Enough. Look at her eyes. They’re all white. Barely a pinprick of blue is left.” He leered at me, leaning closer. “This one—she knows.”

  “I’d hoped this could be done humanely.” Tyrone sighed. “Forgive me, child, but this battle must be won.” He dipped his chin at Bulky. “Calum, she’s yours. Keep her quiet.”

  My next move would dictate how my life ended. Here and now, or at a more distant hour.

  “I’ve something to occupy her mouth nicely.” Calum reached a meaty hand toward me. I darted aside and he stumbled. A smile tempted my lips. I’m faster. I can wear him down. I can...

  I gasped as thick arms circled my waist from behind. Another of Tyrone’s guards had sneaked behind me. I couldn’t breathe. Dots swarmed my vision. No. I would not die this way.

  “You’ll like this,” he murmured by my ear. “Or not.”

  I struggled in his hold. “I will not speak with traitors.”

  “Don’t worry your pretty head.” He licked my pulse. “Calum’s not much for talking.”

  This night, neither was I. I was not a warrior born, but perhaps a warrior made.

  Icy adrenaline trickled through my veins. I was half Theridiidae, trained by one of their best strategists, my father. The short stature and delicate build I’d inherited from Mother’s clan meant no one suspected the tricks he’d taught me. Araneidae spun silk ten times the strength of the strongest metals, and my fingertips tingled where my spinnerets loosed a single silken thread.

  Prickles coasted along my spine as his hot breath fanned my damp neck.

  This new guard held me steady as Calum approached. Closing my eyes, I said a prayer to the gods as I sank my elbow into the guard’s gut. He was tall. When he gasped and bent forward, he leaned over my shoulder. Ours eyes met. His narrowed with thinly veiled contempt. Perfect.

  I looped my thread behind his head, jerking down hard enough his chin caught my shoulder. While he was stunned, I whirled to his side, out of Calum’s reach, until I stood at his back and my makeshift garrote sliced his throat. My knee at his lower back gave me leverage. Using my weight, I pulled until he gurgled wetly and my thread flossed between his vertebrae.

  As his final breaths clouded the air, I let go and shoved him from me. His cheek bounced off the stone pavers on impact.

  For a moment, quiet reigned as Calum stared at me in disbelief. When his jaw fell open in a roar that shook me to the bone, I used the guards’ momentary shock to slip past them, and I ran.

  Heavy footsteps thundered behind me. I’d lost the element of surprise, and Calum was too hulking and too furious for me to fell him without aid. Pumping my legs as fast as I could, I wished I wore pants rather than my frivolous nightgown to this midnight rendezvous. Lungs ablaze, I savored the burn, let it propel me toward the oblong statuary where I hoped my saviors waited.

  Turning a sharp corner, I skittered across the cobbles. A strong arm plucked me up, held me to a hard, male chest. Anise-scented breath hit my cheek. “Don’t move or
I’ll kill you.”

  When his warm chin brushed my icy shoulder, my shivers wracked me into compliance.

  “Hand her here.” A female’s voice I recognized rasped from my right. “Go on, then.”

  With reluctance, my captor shoved me toward Isolde, the maven of the Mimetidae clan and my mother’s dearest friend. I held tight to hope that friendship extended to me and my favor.

  “Be still, child.” She hid me at her back. “They come.”

  Sure enough, voices rose from beyond our hiding place. I picked out Calum and Tyrone, but the others were a mishmash of grunts and shouts. More footsteps fell. They were closer now.

  “All right.” Isolde flicked her wrist in dismissal. “Go have your fun. I’ll guard our host.”

  My eyes bulged as dozens of Mimetidae crept from the shadows. I hadn’t seen them, hadn’t known they were there. Excitement punched through my fear. Yes, these silent warriors were the ones I needed. Leaning forward, I tracked their steady advance. Isolde allowed it, shuffling aside, giving me ample room to watch them work. I think she’d planned to all along.

  She slapped my back. “This, child, is what I call living.” She loosed a war whoop that her clansmen lifted higher, louder, until their bloodcurdling cries filled the chill air.

  Theridiidae who had loomed over me, taunting me, were cut down by Mimetidae steel.

  I inched closer to the fray, my fingers digging into the statue meant to shield me. Relief swamped me, and I pressed my cheek to the cold stone. Watching their swordsmanship lulled me into a false sense of well-being. Though I was still in danger, I exalted in the momentary reprieve.

  “They’re beautiful to watch.” I complimented her clan’s skill, belatedly realizing my gaze had stuck to the same tall warrior, mesmerized by his fluid motions and perfect form. Darkness shrouded his face, and I wished for a moment I could see the expression hidden there. Was his face as flushed as mine? His teeth bared in my same vicious smile? Oh, but that I held my bow.