The Dream Crafter (19 page)

Heh.
And if the situation were reversed, she’d do the same thing and wouldn’t be able to control the giggles as she did it.
Bastard
, and damned if she didn’t smile at the hint of pleased smug in his gaze. Giving up, Fallon leaned against the wall, positioning herself so she fell into the line between comfortable and battle ready. “I need your help to get the Spellbook. Merc controls it. That sums up our problem right there.”

Reign’s body projected perfect nonchalance. “Your problem, not mine. The knowledge of the Spellbook in Merc’s hands amuses me no end. It lends our game a wild card element I find…
exhilarating
.”

“You mean, unlike the Corpse Bloom Queen, who lends a wild card element you might not describe as exhilarating?”

His lip curled in a half smile, allowing a peek of fang to show through. “How was your meeting? I’ve only heard snippets.”

“Pure sunshine and roses. We should all do a group date sometime.”

“Good to hear. Will you sit next to me at the movie?”

Even putting the whole
vampire
thing aside, Fallon couldn’t imagine Reign – well-tailored suits and so sexual men and women fell to their knees in front of him – surrounded by popcorn and sitting in sticky chairs. Still, she said, “Sure, as long as you get me the Spellbook. I’ll even let you hold my hand.”

“Tempting.” In a deliberate sweep, his gaze traveled at slow speed over her, from her face to where her neck met shoulder. From there, it caressed its way down to the hand hanging at her side – A hand she took no notice of until this moment, and now fought to keep still.

It was a mistake to let down her guard and play with him, one she needed to rectify now. Stripping the humor from her voice, Fallon said, “Problem is, Merc isn’t keeping the book. It’s going to auction, and while we haven’t been able to pin down a buyer’s list, I can name a dozen people neither of us would be happy to know they got their hands on it.”

“That’s what we’re meeting under? The
enemy of my enemy
reasoning?”

Fallon shrugged. “Strange that a book which can cause as much mayhem and destruction as this one can is useless to necromancers. More than that, it will hurt your kind beyond even what it can do to us. If you’re smart, you’ll want it in our hands, since you know we won’t sacrifice a continent in the hopes of getting rid of you. You can’t make the same claim about some other factions. Unfortunately for me, that line of reasoning means you are the most
trustworthy
–” and not for gods or money could Fallon hold back the snort that followed that word “–person I can ask to help me get it back.”

He inclined his head, the move
touché.
“And payment?”

“Mutual benefit not enough?”

Now Reign began to move, a slow, circular pattern that had Fallon straightening from the wall and had her wary senses sharpening to pinpoint readiness. “While you make a compelling argument, the fact is there are others beyond the Guild who I would entrust the Spellbook to with full belief they either could not or would not use it against my kind, and indeed, they would be
very generous
in their thanks should we deliver the Spellbook to them.”

“And what kind of
thanks
would sway you to our side?”

Reign stopped a hairsbreadth from her, all pale skin and burning red eyes. “Are you willing to deliver on my price?”

Bravado was what this situation called for, and no one would know whether it was real or faked. “Nice try, Master Vampire, but I never agree without details.”

“I ask for nothing unreasonable, merely…” and here he paused, lowering his face to hers, close enough his breath brushed across her lips. “I wish to touch Tenro.”

The vein in her neck pulsed, so hard that even though his eyes never left hers, Fallon could not convince herself he hadn’t noticed. “There has to be something else.”

“You heard my price. Will you pay it?”

“And if I do?”

“Those under my control will deliver the Spellbook to your control. Now, may I?”

“Do not allow this!”

Her tongue begged to be let free to swipe over her mouth, but Fallon pushed back against her body, brought her breath and heartbeat under control, deadened her eyes into careful amusement and detached observation. “I won’t stop you.”

Without touching her, he ran his hand over the contour of her face, the curve of her neck, down her shoulder, to reach behind her for the sword.

Tenro glowed red. Magic pulsated in violent shock, and Reign fell back under the attack, shielding himself in instinctive motion before turning back to face Fallon.

Triumph glowed in those deep red eyes, and his smile showed every inch of white fang within that seductive mouth.

Weariness fell over Fallon, further battering her ruined defenses. But not here. She couldn’t fall apart here. With practiced nonchalance, she turned and walked to the door, calling over her shoulder, “I expect the Spellbook soon.”

It took two steps to notice Laire in the doorway, a puzzled look in her eye.
Not now, not…now.
Fallon pushed past without waiting to see if Laire followed, heading for the elevator, heading anywhere away from here.

‡

“I
don’t want
to hear…I couldn’t care less…Just fuckin’
do it!!!
” Hadrien flung the phone away from him in disgust before falling on the bed.

Fucking Merc. Fucking
piece of shit
Merc – Mister Top Dog, Mister There-Ain’t-Nobody-Better. What utter
bullshit
. If he was half as good as he was supposed to be, none of this would be
happening
.

Here he was, being hunted like a rabid animal at a time he shoulda been king of the fucking world, all because Merc got up the asses of the Guild. Merc shoulda been able to disappear, do something sneaky, fucking just appear right before the auction. Even with the bound the asshole couldn’t do anything right.

Fuck!

Hadrien rubbed his hand over his face, taking only a moment before he bounced back up and grabbed the whiskey from the bar.

Just a few days
. He gave a salute with his whiskey glass to that thought before swallowing the liquor down. Just a few days, he’d have the money to be free, and he’d gift-wrap Merc to the Guild or whoever else wanted him. Hells, maybe make it easy and let the bound take care of the bastard.

Until then, he’d just hafta keep bouncing like he was.

Fuck, it wasn’t happy, but he’d had worse. At least he had the money and connections to keep to the nicer places this time, lots of people real interested in keeping him healthy and hidden so the auction would take place.

Shit ton of problems or not, grabbing that Spellbook had been a good idea. Get through to the auction, get the money, and disappear forever. Just a few more days, and the now’d be nothing but fucked memories.

The knock sounded through the hotel room, and satisfaction quickly overtook irritation. There was the other good part of this whole deal, waiting for him to let her in.

Never let it be said his hosts didn’t know how to treat him right.

She was Goldilocks – just right in every way, from the silky blonde hair hanging to her waist to the huge tits to the schoolgirl skirt that showed long, long legs. “Come on in sweetheart.”

She moved past him without saying a word, instead looking around the hotel room. Didn’t matter. As long as she knew to open her mouth when he told her to in bed, it otherwise didn’t matter.

As she wandered the room he took in her figure, really enjoying that ass. Perfect and lush – ah yeah, he was going to do some damage. “Get undressed.”

“There’s nothing here.”

Her voice was smooth, like she took singing lessons or somethin’. She’d sound good screaming. “Whada you mean?”

“Whoever is housing you is an idiot, because there’s no protection. You’re defenseless.”

Sweat broke out over him as the girl turned to face him fully, but fuck, she wasn’t a whore, not with that look in her eyes. He turned, but his neck hurt, and he put his hand up to pull away a needle coated with…something…

*

The door to
the suite was ajar as Nemesis approached. She pushed it farther open with the tip of her steel toed boots, one hand going to the dagger on her thigh.

Her source insistent this was where Hadrien was staying, but as she walked in, it took only three long sweeps to see what occurred in the now empty room, and her hand dropped from her weapon.

Sorry darlin’. I didn’t make it in time.

‡

A
happy sigh
escaped Amana’s sleeping form, and Merc reflexively glanced over at the small woman on the bed. Yeah, a slight, sweet smile on her face as she snuggled deeper into the bedding, reassuring him it was indeed a sound of contentment.

Too bad he couldn’t claim the same. There was a corner deep within where gladness over their closeness nestled, but other concerns crowded around his mind.

He might have had a small part of her tonight, their attraction spiking high enough to push back all other problems for awhile, but now those problems were smacking him upside the head and demanding their due.

Like how Hadrien was still out there on the run. Like how he had a bound connecting him to someone who existed on the lowest rungs of the evolutionary scale. How Amana was still twisted up with her brother, and though he didn’t believe she’d give the book to the Guild anymore, she’d still betray him to save her brother.

How the Spellbook kept reaching for him, brushing up against his consciousness in an unrelenting siege, scraping like a dog against a door to be let in.

Merc reached for it now, the leather warm in his hands as he set it in front of him, and it wrapped around him like he was in the embrace of an old friend, much missed and very welcome.

He gripped he corner, battling between opening the book and letting it alone. It was disconcerting how much his fingers itched to pull back the cover and flip through the pages.

It wasn’t like he was a wizard, for gods’ sake. His magic had been etched into him one line at a time, the brush of ink pushing powers into his skin as Shisen pushed his body and mind to their limits, creating him to be a worthy receptacle for the ancient magic.

His fingers curled around a pointed corner, and letting it bite into his flesh he pulled –

The buzz of his mobile sounded sharp in the nighttime quiet. Placing the book down, he put the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

“Bad news,” came Nemesis’ voice. “Someone not me got Hadrien.”

Merc’s body sagged, frustration knotting his gut tight. “Who?”

“I arrived after the fact. It was a professional, and if you pushed me, I’d guess Blackguard, though I wouldn’t swear to it.” Her voice tightened, lowered, the worry coming through. “Are they allied with the Guild, or do they have a special problem with you?”

“If it’s Blackguard, they have a special problem with me.” Putting it mild there. Griffith was legendary in his ability to not hold grudges and let a job be a job. In fact, there was only one exception to that rule.