Inked

He knocked three times, then pressed his palm against a silver plate on the side of the door frame that was glowing with a soft red light. The light flickered to green, and the door opened.

I dutifully followed him inside. The room was huge—it must have taken up a good half of the second story. Filled with heavy wooden tables, ornate armchairs, and a fireplace flickering with a soft bluish flame that came from neither wood nor ember, the chamber emanated so much magical energy that it almost knocked me flat on my back. I quickly leaned against Trillian to steady myself. He slid his arm around my waist and led me to a settee, where I quickly sat down.

“Wait here and don’t move.” He took off toward the other end of the room. I followed orders—there were times when I was happily willful and disinclined to obey, but the energy here could strike like a snake, and I was just a guest. I wasn’t about to cause any waves.

When Trillian returned, he was followed by an incredibly tall man. I couldn’t place his race of Fae—or even if he was Fae. He certainly wasn’t a giant, though he was nearly as tall as one. He reminded me of the inhabitants of Aladril, the City of Seers. They all had that same regal quality, gliding instead of walking, with serene and aloof expressions.

He motioned for Trillian to sit, then took his place in an armchair opposite us. I waited for Trillian to introduce us but after a moment, realized that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, he ignored me and talked directly to the man without addressing him by name.

“We need a spell to cover our magical signatures, to hide ourselves from someone we’re seeking. He knows who we are.” Trillian held out a marker and the man slowly accepted it.

“You realize once you cash this in, my debt to you is paid?”

I jerked my head up. Debt? I managed to catch a better look at the marker. A blood-debt marker. So whoever these people were, they owed a blood debt to Trillian.

“Of course,” Trillian said. “I’m a man of my word.”

“But not,” the stranger said, “necessarily a righteous man.”

“Righteousness has nothing to do with morality,” Trillian said calmly. I sensed this wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate.

“But morality without righteousness is a hollow victory for honor.” The stranger shook his head. “You ca

Trillian snorted. “The power of the gods often leads to ruin for anybody but the gods themselves. Righteousness applied to morality is a dangerous mix, and zealots usually end up killing anybody who disagrees with them. No, give me my ethics, and leave religion out of it.”

The other man regarded him quietly, then smiled. “As always, you stand by your beliefs, regardless of how much I prod you. All right, you will have your help, but remember—the marker is forfeit and next time we meet, I won’t have any restrictions on killing you.”

“Done. But only for you. The rest of your brotherhood are not involved. This is our fight. We leave my people and your people out of it.” Trillian glanced at me. “And our friends, family, and lovers.”

“Agreed.” He said the word so mildly that I barely caught it, but I could feel the mixture of respect and anger welling off the man. Whoever he was, he didn’t like Trillian. I had the feeling Trillian had just cashed in his safety net.

“Wait here,” the man said, and glided toward the other end of the room.

I pressed my fingers onto Trillian’s arm, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head.

“Don’t ask. Not here.” After a pause, he gazed into my eyes and whispered, “Camille.” Then, without another word, he slid his arm around my waist and grazed my lips with his. As we touched, like a jagged spike of lightning, a jolt of energy seared its way through my core. Before I had time to gasp, an orgasm ripped me apart. But the energy didn’t stop there. It grew stronger, weaving a cord between us, knotting our auras together in an intricate pattern. I could feel the magic shift and dance, drawing me in, pulling me to him.

I clung to him, shaking. “What’s happening?”

Trillian looked just as dizzy and confused as I. He tried to push me away but the draw between us was too strong.

“Lady Hel preserve us,” he whispered, clinging to me, his lips on my hair, my forehead, my neck, covering my face with kisses.

Another wave washed through, turning me topsy-turvy. The cord between us was now visible, sparkling like a thick string of faerie lights. My fingers tingled under the sensation of his skin. I welcomed the pressure of his mouth as he played me like a skillfully tuned harp.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” Once again, I tried to break away but he held on, leaning me back against the seat, his eyes gleaming with a hunger so deep that I thought he might gobble me up.

His own voice was just as breathless as mine as he pressed himself between my legs, holding me down. “I don’t know…I don’t know…unless…”

“Unless what?” I managed to roll out from under him, but it took every ounce of self-control I had not to throw myself back into his arms.

He grabbed hold of my hands and held tight. “I’m one of the Charming Fae…There are legends that sometimes a Svartan will meet another Svartan with whom the mesh is so right that they spontaneously bond. For good. It’s rare, but it does happen.”

“But I’m not Svartan.”

“Svartan or not, I think that’s what’s happening.” Trillian lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes, a haunted look crossing his face. “When souls mate, nothing can undo the link.”

I stared at him. He wasn’t bullshitting. From the core of my gut, I knew that what he said was true.

“We haven’t even had sex yet,” was all I could say.

“I know. But think about what it’s going to be like when we do,” he murmured, then quickly straightened himself as the strange man reappeared.

The man ignored me as he handed Trillian two small medallions.

“Wear these. They will block your signatures from everyone. While you wear them, you will appear as dwarves. They will only last for a little while, so you’ll have to work fast.”

Trillian nodded, then stood. He inclined his head. “The blood-debt is paid. You are free. But next time we meet, before raising your sword, think back on our discussions. Perhaps you won’t be so hasty to have my head. You killed my sister already. That’s the only member of my family you’re touching.”

The man stared at him, conflicting emotions ru

Trillian shook his head, smiling grimly. “As you so wish,” he said, and led me out of the room. As soon as we were in the hallway, he draped one of the medallions around his neck.

“Mother pus bucket,” I said, staring at him, still dazed from our tryst. He looked like a dwarf, complete with long beard, short stature, and rugged appeal. He was still handsome—no spell could take away that gorgeous demeanor, but he was definitely a dwarf.

He blinked. “I assume you learned that from your mother?” he said as he draped the other medallion around my neck. “Well, you certainly look better as yourself, but this will do quite nicely.”

I glanced down at my arms and legs. Yep, I looked like a dwarf, too. A dwarf with really big boobs. Of course, a lot of dwarven women were busty. I glanced back at the chamber. “Mind telling me what the Hel we’re going to do about what happened back there?”

“Hush, leave it until we’re outside. Leave all questions until we’re outside.” He led me down the stairs and out the front door. Then, quickly, he tugged on my hand and we raced back toward Calisto’s. I prayed that we were right, and that Roche would be on his way up to his room. Trillian had just sacrificed a huge marker for this, and I didn’t want to see him wasting his get-out-of-jail-free card.