Angel's Ink (19 page)

“Maybe, but considering the magic running through it, you obviously know how to use it.”

I gave a little shrug, as if what he was saying wasn’t of much importance to me. “A little self-defense isn’t such a bad thing in this kind of neighborhood. A person has to know who they are dealing with.”

The elf glared at me. “So you’re that Gage. The rogue warlock they are desperate to kill.” A weight sank in my stomach. Who were these guys and how the hell did they know about me? This wasn’t good at all. “It should be no surprise that she would come here to hide. She would think you’d be the one person who could actually protect her.”

“Look, asshole! I’ve got work to do and you’re keeping me from it. There’s no Trixie or Rowena here and, honestly, even if there was, I can’t imagine handing some poor chick over to you three schmucks. So just get out of here before I call the cops for harassment.”

He moved fast. Faster than the time it took me to gasp or blink. The elf closest to me grasped me tightly around the throat and lifted me off my feet before slamming me through the glass case. Pain exploded in my back as the glass shattered. He tightened his hand around my throat, nearly closing off my airway passage, before I could even think to grab his hand and tear it away.

As my thoughts finally caught up with the events happening around me, I heard the distinct
chunk
of a shotgun being cocked. I looked up to find Bronx standing next to the elf who was still leaning over me with his hand around my throat. The muzzle of the sawed-off shotgun was pressed into the elf’s temple, giving him no room. I had little doubt that if the elf made a single move in the wrong direction, I was going to be splattered in his brains along with the fractured glass.

“Leave here,” Bronx growled.

With amazing slowness, the elf released my throat and raised his empty hands as he stepped away from me. The trio edged backward out the door, looking as if they had all sucked on a lemon, before they left the building. It was only when they were no longer in sight that Bronx set the shotgun against the wall and offered me a hand as I climbed out of the shattered glass case. Shaking the broken glass out of my shirt and back, I turned around to find that all of the glass had been either shattered and knocked out of the case or was fractured in some way. The whole thing needed to be completely replaced and as soon as possible. Hell.

“You okay?” Bronx asked, which made me flinch. It wasn’t a question that usually crossed his lips.

“I look that bad?” I asked in return as I glanced down at the scratches that lined both arms and then the fine tears in my jeans. Lines of blood crisscrossed every bit of exposed flesh that I could see. I’d had my ass kicked by Simon and an elf all in the same day. So much for being a powerful warlock. It was becoming questionable as to whether I could even take care of myself.

Bronx frowned at me as his eyes drifted down my arms. “You look like you lost a fight with a big cat.”

“Thanks for stepping in.”

“No problem.”

“Can you take care of the client? I think it’s time I had a few words with Miss Trixie.”

“Sure, but take it easy on her. Those were Royal Guards of the Summer Court. You know that whatever she’s mixed up in can’t be good.”

My heart seemed to stutter for a second at his words, but I nodded. “Leave this mess. I’ll clean it up later.”

Walking to the back room, I paused and grabbed a paper towel. After running it under water, I wiped some streaks of blood off my face, out of my hairline, and off my arms as the bleeding slowed. I didn’t want Trixie to be worried when she caught sight of me. Unfortunately, there still wasn’t much chance of stopping that. I was a mess. My clothes were torn and I was covered in cuts. And despite my fresh array of wounds and bruises, I doubted that I had convinced the three Royal Guards that Trixie didn’t actually work here. I had a feeling that the tattoo parlor was going to stay under surveillance until they caught her. For now, she was trapped and I didn’t know how to help her.

Chapter 16

T
ears were glistening on Trixie’s face when I opened the trapdoor and started to descend the stairs. I pursed my lips together, trying to hold back a frown, but I don’t think I really succeeded. I didn’t know how to deal with the tears on her pale cheeks. I would have preferred it if she had been angry and ready to burst out of the basement, prepared to take on the bastards who had been hunting her. But all I saw was fear and shame in her wide eyes as I passed by her and down to the floor.

“Stay where you are,” I murmured in a rough voice as I grabbed the pull chain for the overhead light. The basement flooded with dirty light, I walked over to the wall with the pentagram and placed my right hand against it. I closed my eyes a second and poured my energy into it, unraveling the last of the spells that protected my domain.

“Okay, it’s safe to come down . . . Rowena,” I said as I slowly opened my eyes to look up the stairs at her. She gave a little shiver at the name and remained sitting on the stairs. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her legs while placing her chin on her knees.

“How much did they tell you?” she whispered in a weak, thready voice.

“Nothing but a name. Rowena Lightheart. But I know they were members of the Royal Guard of the Summer Court. I also know that you’re an elf. I’ve known since you first walked in the door of the shop the day I hired you.”

“What?” she cried, her head popping up.

“There’s an antiglamour spell in the lobby upstairs that covers most of the shop. Remember, I’m a rogue warlock.”

Her head fell forward so that her forehead was against her knees and her shoulders were slumped. “Does Bronx know?” she asked in a dejected, muffled voice.

“Don’t know. I’m the only one who can use the antiglamour spell, though he does know about its existence. Can’t get much by the son of a bitch.” When she didn’t look relieved, I sighed. Walking over to the stairs, I stood next to the bottom step with my hands shoved in my pockets. “I prefer the real you, Rowena. Not this fake you present to the rest of the world. I love the way your blond hair curls at the ends, just past your shoulders, and the way your green eyes sparkle when you laugh. But then I guess I also liked being the only one who could see those things.”

“The name’s Trixie,” she said. Her voice had grown a little harder as she finally raised her head. “I haven’t gone by that other name in centuries.”

She made it sound as if it had just been a few years to her, but that was the long-lived elves for you. Time meant different things to them when they had centuries lined up before them.

I paced over to one of the workbenches and leaned against it, wishing that I kept a chair in the basement. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? You obviously don’t have to, but I was just thrown through a glass case in your defense and I have a feeling that they’re going to be back for more, so I would like to know why I am going to suffer physical harm for you.”

“Went through the glass case? Is that what happened?” she gasped as her head popped up.

“Nothing major.” I brushed aside her concern with a wave of my hand, causing a twinge of pain to shoot through my shoulder. I felt like crap as one beating seemed to bleed into the next, but she didn’t need to know about that. “Bronx was right there with the shotgun, covering my back, so everything’s good. Unfortunately, I doubt they left convinced that you don’t work here. They’re going to be watching the place.”

“I’m sure they will.” She loosened her arms and stretched out her legs so that her feet rested on one step lower. “They’ve spent a long time tracking me, but this is the longest I’ve gone since last seeing them.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s what I didn’t do.”

“And that was . . .”

“I didn’t get married.”

“And how long have they been hunting you for this?”

“For roughly three centuries.”

“And the groom is still interested after three centuries? You’d think he would have moved on.”

“The king can be a very stubborn man,” she said with a shake of her head.

“The king? You mean, the king of the Summer Court?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought he was already married. I can definitely recall his having a wife. Did she die?” A frown crossed my face as I wished I’d spent more time watching the entertainment news channels. The only thing more interesting to the races than the Hollywood celebrities was the royal families—both human and otherwise. And the elves had been blessed with three: Summer Court, Winter Court, and Svartálfar Court, though little was heard from the Svartálfar, or Dark Elf, Court.

“No, he’s still married.”

I rubbed my head against the headache beginning to form at my temples, hoping it was the remnant of a concussion I’d suffered when my head crashed through the plate glass. “Trixie, you’re going to have to start giving me more detailed answers here, because none of this is making sense to me. If the king already has a queen, how can he possibly marry you?”

“I would be taken as his second wife, more a type of concubine. The ceremony would make it impossible for me to ever leave him and marry someone else. It would also make any children he had with me legitimate heirs to the throne.”

“Oh.” Something clenched in my chest and weighed heavily on my heart as I listened to her talk about her situation. A deep sense of panic clawed at my chest, making it harder to breathe. It was becoming a struggle to stand still and not pace the small room.

“I grew up in the Summer Court and was taught to be an artisan. I spent centuries studying different art forms and techniques. During that time I caught the eye of the king, which would have made any family happy. Shortly before I left it was discovered that the king and queen could not produce children. To protect the throne, heirs were needed or the Summer Court could suddenly find itself under attack from either the Winter Court or the Svartálfar Court. Under our law it is only natural for the king and queen to take on concubines until children are born.”

“What happened?” I prompted when she suddenly fell silent.

“I ran. When I heard the news that the search for concubines had begun, I left the court and never looked back. I didn’t give him a chance to put the position before me because I would not have been permitted to say no. And if the Royal Guards are still looking for me it means that the queen has not succeeded in bearing a child yet.”

“Shouldn’t he have taken another concubine for the good of his people instead of chasing you?”

“Of course, but you know men,” she said with disgust. Her eyes narrowed uncomfortably on me and I shifted from my left foot to my right. “They are only enticed by the chase. I’m more interesting to him now that I’m on the run.”

I released a breath, rubbing both my hands over my face as the story swirled around in my brain. Centuries. This chase had been going on for centuries. Would the king still even really want Trixie if he was faced with her again after so long? I opened my eyes and looked at my companion with her wide green eyes and haunting face, and knew with no hesitation that the answer would be yes.

“I’m not sure what to do, Trix,” I admitted sadly. “I’ve got some tricks that can keep them at bay for a few nights, but if they’re confident you’re here, they are going to keep coming until they flush you out. You can’t stay captive in the tattoo parlor forever. That’s not a life.”

“Then I run again.”

“That’s not a life either!” I snapped, dropping both hands to my sides and forming them into fists. “You can’t keep picking up your life, cutting off all ties of friendship and support, and running at the first sign of trouble. That’s not living; that’s surviving, and only barely. Trust me, I know firsthand what that’s like.”

“I’ve tried making a stand and fighting and I’ve just barely escaped. They’ll kill me. The king would rather have me dead than allow someone else to have me.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do for you.”

“Would you marry me?” she asked softly.

I blinked twice, not sure that I had actually heard her correctly. I couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. “What?”

Trixie pushed to her feet, and with a snap of her fingers, the glamour that had cloaked her from the first moment I’d met her melted away. The vision of a woman with brown hair finally disappeared and I could clearly see the beautiful woman with the river of pale blond hair and sparkling green eyes. Her hips swayed hypnotically as she descended the last of the stairs. I knew that she hadn’t captured me in any type of elfin glamour because I had protection against such things, but I felt as if I was wrapped in some spell she was weaving just for me.

She closed the distance between us until her breasts slightly brushed against the front of my shirt, while her body heat washed over me in warm, comforting waves. Lifting her left hand, her fingertips slid across my cheekbone and down my jaw, forcing my wandering eyes to meet her amused gaze.

“I said,” she began in the same sweet whisper, “would you marry me?”

“I—I don’t see what that would solve,” I stammered, resisting the urge to step out of her reach. Of course, a part of me was itching to grab her with both hands and press her firmly against me so that every inch of her perfect body was molded to mine. My head stayed relatively clear only because I managed to keep my hands clenched at my sides.

“If I’m already married, then he can’t have me. I would belong to you. He would have to drop his suit,” she explained. Her hand slid around my jaw to my chin so that her thumb caressed my lower lip, parting it from the top lip.

She leaned in, gently kissing me, and by the gods, I didn’t do a damn thing to stop her. Sucking my lower lip into her mouth for a second before releasing it, she moved on to the rest of my mouth. All thoughts of restraint snapped in a heartbeat as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, something I had dreamed of doing so many times. I reached up with my left hand and cupped the back of her head, holding her prisoner as I deepened the kiss until she moaned into my mouth. Trixie wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her full length against me so that there was no hiding my erection, pressed firmly against her.