Guilty as Sin (47 page)

the time, the warrior within urged her to action, to launch herself into the sky and fly,

fly!
To take back what was hers—hers and Dax
‟
s.

Every night, she slept in Dax
‟
s arms, on the featherbed of his beautiful bronze

wings, amazed by the peace she found there. Sometimes they made love, slow and

achingly sweet, sometimes they just slept, curled together like children in a nest.

It was a fortnight before she could be absolutely certain Michael was no longer in

Sere and another four days with a pile of cargo manifests from the Merchants
‟
Guild

and travel permits from the Palace before she found the anomaly—a caravan guard

without papers. Nothing unusual in that, some traders made a practice out of illegal

hires, but this caravan had been the first out of the city after Veryl
‟
s death.

221

Lise didn
‟
t believe in coincidences. She and Dax had left for Valaressa the following

day.

Dax
‟
s optimism had never wavered, not even when they discovered they
‟
d missed

their quarry by a single day. He
‟
d wrapped gentle wings around her while she sniffed

and swore. Gods, she
‟
d been so sure! But gutted or no, Second Pinion warriors did not

weep.

“
Shh
,” Dax had soothed. “He
‟
s here, in Valaressa. You still have informants in the

city, don
‟
t you?”

When she nodded, he went on, “You find him, Lise. I
‟
ll make all the other

arrangements. We have to be ready to move on an instant.”

They
‟
d taken rooms at the Aetherii palazzo, and Lise had gritted her teeth and

begun all over again, picking up the threads of her networks, bribing, pressuring,

persuading.

Nothing. As if the blue waters of a canal had closed over his handsome head.

The missing grew to an ache, a deep yearning space in the center of her being that

never left her.

“What if he
‟
s…?” she whispered against Dax
‟
s neck as they lay twined together in

the dark. “Gods, I can
‟
t say it. But it
‟
s been over a month already. Anything could have

happened.”

A long pause. Powerful fingers carded through her hair. “He
‟
s not dead, chick.” His

chuckle came rich and reassuring out of the night, but she thought she heard an

unsettling echo as if he stood in some deep chasm, all alone. “Our boy
‟
s too damn

wicked to die.”

A sigh lifted his massive chest. “I miss him too,” he said. His voice dropped to a

weary rumble. “Hurts.”

She raised her head from his chest. “Dax, I think we should— I need—” She

couldn
‟
t go on.

“A Mating Flight,” he said. “I know, me too. We should do it, though it won
‟
t—”

He broke off, swallowing hard.

“Be complete, not without—”

He sighed. “No, it won
‟
t.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “But anything that

beautiful has to help.”

The next morning, they flew together, tail in tail, up and up into pure blue, until

they were higher than Lise had ever been before, only the furnace heat of Dax
‟
s huge,

naked body preventing her teeth from chattering. But when he slid inside her, their

wings beating in languid, sensuous harmony, she knew in her hearts it had been the

right thing to do. There were whispers, tears and tender laughter.

On the brink, Dax bent his head and kissed her, gasping into her mouth, “For you,

Lise. For Michael.” His arms tightened around her, hips jerking as his cock reared inside

her. “
Forever
.” His eyes rolled up.

222

The wind screaming in her ears, Lise maneuvered them into a long, shallow glide

over the coastline, holding Dax close, arms, legs and tail wrapped tight. Liseriel the

Gray held on to what was hers. She
‟
d never let go of the men she loved—
never
.

“
Mmm.
” Dax gave an indolent flap that flattened their trajectory. Another two beats

and he smiled, so much joy shining in his dear, honest face it almost banished the

shadow lurking behind his eyes. “Gods, that was good.”

Slowly, he began to work them back up again. The smile widened to something

entirely predatory. “Now, chick, I get to hear
you
scream.”

It never did any good to argue with Daxariel the Burnished, not when he had his

hearts set on something. By the time he finished with her, Lise was wailing her pleasure

to the sky, no longer able to form a coherent thought.

They flew back to Valaressa, both of them sticky, shaken and tear-stained.

The following day, the Ten Nations Fair had rattled into Valaressa and Lise was

struck by inspiration.

“Hmm,” said Fortitude McLaren, looking Dax up and down in a measuring kind of

way. “As it happens, I know the best fence in Valaressa. You might even say he
‟
s a

friend of sorts. I
‟
ve done the old scoundrel a few favors.”

His smile took on a certain grim relish. “I think it
‟
s about time for Barnaby to pay

up.”

After that, Lise was almost too busy to fret. Almost.

* * * * *

Up ahead, a spur of the Mountains of Morn reared a mist-purple shoulder out of

the landscape. Not far now. Lise let out a long breath, resisting the temptation to rub

her gritty eyes.

“Chick.” Dax
‟
s tail tugged at hers.

She turned her head.

“Look,” said Dax softly. “Look at him now.”

More than a thousand feet above the stony foothills of Morn, the master thief of

Sere was fast asleep in Dax
‟
s arms, trusting as a child. One palm rested against the

Aetherii
‟
s chest, the other arm dangled free. Michael
‟
s mouth hung a little open. Her

mind spinning, Lise wondered if he
‟
d relaxed enough to snore.

Smiling, Dax dipped his head to rub his jaw over the tousled hair. “You see,

sweetheart?” he said. “There
‟
s always hope.”

Framed against the blue of the sky, his hair and plumage glowed like a mix of

sunset and dawn, his eyes brilliant with purpose. “Which is why I never give up.

C
‟
mon,” he said.

His tail released hers as they lost height, drifting into a gentle spiral. “It
‟
s the other

side of this bluff.” He led the way.

223

“Oh.” Wings churning, Lise came to a dead halt in midair, her lips curving with

genuine pleasure. “
Oh
.”

Relaxing, she caught a warm updraft, letting it carry her closer to the perfect

jeweled cup nestled in the shoulder of the mountain. Gods, it was gorgeous.

The meadow was no more than a hundred yards across, sheltered from the

prevailing winds by the bulk of the mountain but nicely exposed to the sun. As they

neared, she could make out the sweet, white faces of goddess daises, a wild
gaeta
vine

locked in a passionate embrace with an ancient candlewood. There was a grove of trees,

a small forest of sun-dappled shade. A narrow stream jinked its way over the rocks to

debouch into an almost circular pool, its surface a wind-ruffled pewter.

By way of contrast, the red-and-gold-striped tent under the trees was a cheerful

splash of color, unapologetically out of place in all that tranquil beauty. The pennants

on the ridgepole snapped cheerfully in the light breeze.

Dax surveyed it all with the deepest satisfaction. “Like it?” He slanted her a grin.

Lise cleared her throat. “Like
‟
s a pale word.” She shook her head. “It couldn
‟
t

possibly be any better. I had no idea—”

Dax side-slipped close enough to link tails again. “Mirry didn
‟
t want to give up the

location, but once I talked to Fledge…” He chuckled. “Griff got the tent for me.”

“You
‟
re amazing, you know that? Also sneaky.”

“I try.” When he batted his eyelashes at her, she had to laugh.

Michael stirred. “
Mmph.
”

Dax backwinged, landing neatly near the tent. “Welcome back,” he said, setting the

other man on his feet but keeping an arm around his waist.

Michael blinked, once, twice. “Where—?” He broke off, his mouth snapping shut.

Lise dropped out of the sky beside him and furled her wings. “The southernmost

flank of the Mountains of Morn. Over a thousand feet up.”

Without a word, Michael shrugged Dax off and stalked toward the pool, tension in

every line of him. When Dax would have followed, Lise laid a hand on his arm. “Not

yet.”

Hearts thudding, she slipped her tail around Dax
‟
s waist and watched the thief

complete a full circuit before kneeling by the pool to drink. Wiping his mouth, he

turned back to the tent, his eyes flat and hard.

Setting his hands on his hips, he said, “Congratulations. It
‟
s pretty.” His mouth

contorted as if he
‟
d bitten into something sour. “But it
‟
s still a jail. Why am I here?”

Lise folded her arms. “You belong with us.”

“We missed you,” growled Dax.

And then Dax was speaking over her and she was trying to get a word in and the

whole thing degenerated into an unholy mess of half-completed sentences and

interruptions and waving arms and tails lashing with agitation.

224

“
Quiet!
” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I can
‟
t hear myself think.”

He was still very pale, the shadows beneath his eyes like bruises.

He gestured at Lise. “You never do anything without a plan,
never
.” His lip curled.

“So, let me in on it, why don
‟
t you?”

Lise had imagined this moment many times, longed for it with an almost physical

ache. She
‟
d accepted there might be a certain degree of nervous tension, but she
‟
d never

envisaged sheer terror. There was a roaring in her ears, like the wind rushing past as

she fell headlong out of the sky, her wings bound behind her, writhing and helpless.

Gods save her, this was the rest of her life—no,
three lives
—that she held in the palm of

her hand.

Lise wet her lips. “First, we will never lie to you, either of us. You need to know

that.”

Michael
‟
s expression didn
‟
t change. “Go on.”

Dax kissed the back of her neck. “Keep going,” he whispered. “Tell him.”

“We want three days, that
‟
s all. At the end of that time…” Her throat was so dry it

was difficult to speak. “The decision is yours.”

A brow arched. “Decision?
‟

“Go or stay. With us, I mean. Always.” Dax stepped forward, cupping the other