Guilty as Sin (10 page)

body, fingers gripping her arms.

Her tail lashed so hard it hurt. Breathing deeply, Lise looped it through her elbow

and squeezed it against her side. Stupid thing. Lowering herself back into her chair, she

said, “Go on.”

“He
flirted
with me.” Dax shifted in his seat. “I think he thought it was funny.”

“Don
‟
t flatter yourself,” said Lise, dry as dust. “He doesn
‟
t have much

discrimination. He
‟
s done the same with me.”

“But you
‟
re female!” Dax sounded outraged.

48

“True, but you
‟
re an attractive man.” She couldn
‟
t help but laugh at his poleaxed

expression. “You
‟
re not a bigot about manlove like the Straight Church, are you?”

He mumbled something that sounded like a curse and shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think it was an act?”

He blinked. The flush became positively fiery. “No,” he said again, and Lise would

have given a wingful of flight feathers to know exactly what he was recalling.

“What exactly did he do, Daxariel?” she said sternly. “I need the facts.” Gods, she

was evil, but every nerve in her body thrummed at the thought of them together, all

that masculine power locked in a battle of wills.

Dax
‟
s generous mouth thinned and a
fellwolf
growl rumbled in his chest. “He kissed

me.” The words came out clipped, in a single breath.

Ah, real anger—for the first time. She shivered. A First Pinion warrior in everything

but the instinct to kill. What would it take to tip him over that edge? Did Michael have

any idea of the risk he
‟
d run?

“And then?”

After an agonizing pause, Dax said, “I was so— Godsdammit, he took me off my

guard. You were right about him, he
‟
s a slippery bastard.” A rummage in his belt pouch

produced a ball of fabric. “All I got was this.”

Lise unfolded it, smoothing the fine linen across the tabletop. “It
‟
s part of a shirt.”

“The only thing I kept a grip on.”

Lise grinned, bunching the shirt in her fists. “I bet you gave him a hell of a fright.”

Dax
‟
s broad shoulders moved in a shrug. “Hard to tell.” His eyes narrowed. “What

are you doing?”

She froze, her face buried in soft linen. “It smells of him,” she said with all the

composure she could muster. Shit! She hadn
‟
t even realized she
‟
d done it. “Could be a

clue.”

Without a blink, Dax said, “How do you know what Michael smells like?”

“Good question.” Lise folded the fabric into halves then quarters, buying time while

she processed a new realization.

Finally, she lifted her gaze and met Dax
‟
s green-gold stare. “I
‟
m good at what I do,”

she said. “It
‟
s one of the reasons I work for Jan. He appreciates my powers of

observation.” Her lips quirked in a wry grin. “Or so he says. But with you—”

She broke off to shake her head. “Veil-it, I missed everything about you I should

have picked up immediately. Even when you told me things straight out I didn
‟
t hear.

You have a way of being…I don
‟
t know…so godsbedamned calm. I can
‟
t be the first to

underestimate Daxariel the Burnished.” She raised a brow. “Isn
‟
t that so?”

“Um, no.” Though he looked vaguely apologetic, his eyes twinkled, green as a

forest glade shot with sunlight. “And before you ask, I
‟
m only four years younger than

you.”

49

Lise shut her sagging jaw with a snap. “I had no intention of asking.” How had he

known she
‟
d wanted to? “Come on.” She rose. “We
‟
d better get back.”

He didn
‟
t move. “You don
‟
t remember me, do you?”

Lise frowned. “No. Should I?”

“Not at all. I started at the Academy the year you finished.”

She shouldn
‟
t ask, but she couldn
‟
t help herself. “What is it you remember, Dax?”

she said softly.

“You were fine.” He favored her with a slow, serious smile. “In every sense of the

word.” Coming to his feet, he rolled his shoulders, filling the dingy tap room with his

bronze-winged presence. “You
‟
re right, we
‟
d better go.”

Before she could speak, he said, “About Michael? You
‟
re going to tell me what

happened?”

Fine?
What did that mean? Lise pulled her wayward thoughts together. “Only if

you promise not to laugh.”

Dax snorted. “After what he did to me? Not likely.”

Funnily enough, once she started, it was easy to walk the streets of Sere beside him,

talking, laying out the scene in her usual quiet, logical manner—easy enough until she

reached the point where Michael crushed his lithe body against hers. But Dax only fixed

a patient gaze on the rooftops of Sere and lifted her out of the quagmire of

embarrassment with a calm question. Lise drew a breath and found she was able to

continue.

As they entered the welcome shade of the Aetherii palazzo, she realized with

astonishment that she
‟
d told him everything, right down to the humiliations she hadn
‟
t

been able to admit to Jan—the feather Michael had plucked, the featherpearls he
‟
d

stolen, the wig stuffed down her shirt. The only thing she kept to herself was the

patronizing press of the thief
‟
s lips on hers, and the way she trembled and burned every

time she thought of it.

What an extraordinary thing. She felt…comfortable with Daxariel the Burnished, at

ease in a way she
‟
d never been able to achieve with Mirry or Jan.

“I have a plan,” she said to Jan when they arrived.

Her superior grunted. “I should hope so.”

“Here.” She slapped a sheet of paper on his desk. “A list of all my informants—and

yours.”

“It
‟
s the logical place to start.”

“Shouldn
‟
t take long to run him down.” She glanced at Dax
‟
s interested face. “Dax

wants to work at Fledge
‟
s school in the mornings, but his afternoons and evenings are

mine.” Unaccountably, she blushed.

Two nights later, he walked into her office and handed her a steaming mug.

“
Babybane
,” he said. “Hot and strong, the way you like it.”

50

His hand rose as if to touch her hair then dropped to his side. “Your tail
‟
s lashing

all over the place. I thought you were off to pick up the thief?”

“So did I.” Lise made a furious noise deep in her throat. “But it was nothing, just a

squat in a warehouse. He hasn
‟
t been there for weeks. Rip the Veil, Michael
‟
s making us

look stupid.”

Dax leaned forward to brush the back of her hand with his fingertips. “You
‟
ll find

him” he said, deep and sure. “I know you will.”

“Thank you.” Taking a grateful swig of her
babybane
, she managed a smile for him

over the rim of the mug.

How it came about, she wasn
‟
t sure, but Dax
‟
s calm and good humor stopped her

seething and cleared her head. His presence helped her to think.

“How do you like Fledge
‟
s school?” she asked.

“It
‟
s…interesting.” Dax grinned. “I
‟
ve struck a bargain with the boys—I teach them

hand-to-hand fighting if they promise to shut up and listen when I read to them.”

Lise was startled into a laugh. “Very practical. What about the girls?”

Dax
‟
s broad cheekbones pinkened. “Oh, they
‟
re no problem.”

Of course not. They
‟
d adore him.

Lise gazed into her mug, her lips curved in a fond smile. How fascinating. There

was something inherently
good
about Dax, but it didn
‟
t mean he was a prude or stuffy—

far from it. He was…he was… She
‟
d have to think about exactly what he was.

It wasn
‟
t until just after midnight an endless, frustrating three days after Michael
‟
s

narrow escape that it came to her. Staring blankly at the plaster cherubs cavorting on

the ceiling of her bedchamber, Lise examined the startling thought. She
‟
d been recalling

the afternoon
‟
s stormy discussion in Jan
‟
s office, the steady way Dax had met her gaze

across the desk as he handed her his notes. She
‟
d even completed sentences for him a

couple of times and thought nothing of it, while every now and then it seemed as if he
‟
d

read her mind, as he
‟
d done in the tavern. So comfortable, so…
easy
.

Rip the Veil, she had a friend.

His was a shining spirit, a bright soul. It shone out of those beautiful green eyes.

No, wait. Lise frowned. That wasn
‟
t quite right, in certain lights they were flecked with

gold. She
‟
d seen a temple cat with eyes that color once. Come to think of it, he could

move like a cat when he had to, the big body surprisingly graceful, all sinew and

controlled power. In his native element, gliding through the air on those enormous

wings, Daxariel the Burnished was sheer poetry.

His Mating Flight would be incredible.

Lise hissed in a breath, her whole body flushing with heat, tail twitching. For all she

knew, Dax had given that gift of ultimate trust already. But gods, was there a female of

her race strong enough to support the weight of his unconscious body as they soared

among the stars? Because only in a Mating Flight did a male Aetherii allow himself a

51

complete orgasm—both testicles. The sheer force of the double rapture meant he
‟
d pass

out, only for a few moments of course, but still…

Hmm. If they were high enough in the first place…

Abruptly, she sat up, snatching a vial of featheroil from the nightstand. The bath

chamber in the palazzo was luxuriously appointed and she
‟
d have the place to herself

at this time of night. A good soak in one of the deep tubs and a thorough grooming

should settle her mind.

A Mating Flight was a beautiful thing, a sacred once-in-a-lifetime experience.
By the

Veil
, she thought crossly,
pull yourself together, Liseriel the Gray, and act like the professional

you know you are. He’s your trainee. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be his friend?