Unexpected Eden Page 6

  “Aren’t you tired?” God. What a lame question. Could she be any more bubble-headed?

  His mouth crooked in a tortured smile. “Sleep won’t come easy for me at the moment. I’ll be fine. Ludan and I will be upstairs if you need anything.” He angled for the door.

  The unfamiliarity of the room, the weight of everything she’d seen, the denied passion—it all coalesced at once. “Wait.”

  Eryx looked up, his hand on the doorknob, and jaw locked tight.

  “Would you mind…”? Christ, she was screwing this up. And, gauging from the expression on his face, torturing him in the process.

  The silk robe lay at the foot of the bed. To hell with that. “I’ll sleep in what I’ve got on and keep my distance, but I’d like it if you stayed.”

  Chapter 6

  Maxis pushed his unfinished breakfast away and sipped his coffee.

  Skittish, Brenna kept her back to him at the sideboard whenever possible, her gait more delicate than normal.

  Understandable. His early morning visit to her chamber had been harsher than he’d intended. A little stress relief for his lapse in judgment with Eryx in the way of Brenna’s not so willing body.

  His coffee cup clinked against its saucer. “Did you feed my guest?”

  Brenna flinched. Hands gripped tight in front of her, she turned and bobbed her head, eyes averted.

  “Good,” he said.

  A deep purple bruise stretched from her temple to her tightly clenched mouth. One strong wind and the tears would come again.

  “Never underestimate a human,” his grandmother had said. “They’re primitive beings and require a steady hand to keep them in line.”

  Good advice he’d do well to remember. Humans couldn’t be trusted, especially the ones with soulful brown eyes. “Clean this up then head to your rooms. You’ve got one day’s rest then you’re back to your chores. Understood?”

  Brenna nodded and set about gathering the used dishes, plates clattering beneath her jerky movements. With an impressive stack cradled against her chest, she turned for the door.

  “You wouldn’t try to escape me would you, Brenna?” He lowered his voice, barely above a whisper, but thick with warning.

  She stopped and shook her head. A fork teetered, nearly tumbling from the pile.

  “And what would happen if you tried?”

  “I’d be lucky if I made it to another estate.” Empty gaze locked on the wall behind him, she gave her deadpan recitation. “If I did, another Myren would kill me because humans are forbidden here.”

  Not an entirely true statement. Forbidden true, but unlikely another Myren would kill her. More like shuttle her off to one of the malran’s do-good warriors. Definitely not a detail he planned to share with Brenna. “And if they don’t?”

  She paled and the dishes wobbled and clattered. “You’ll find me and kill me yourself.”

  “Well done.” He dipped his chin and lifted his coffee cup. “You’re dismissed.”

  He sipped the dark brew and stared at the empty doorway. Too much wistfulness in her tone. Best to watch her for a few days and make sure she didn’t do something stupid. Breaking in a new house slave was the last thing he needed. He’d do well to remember that the next time his temper got out of hand.

  With a quick swipe, he wiped a trail of moisture from the corner of one eye. Blasted fucking sun. His sensitivity to light grew more pronounced as the color of his irises faded. They’d once been as green as his grandmother’s. Evanora’s emerald gaze was purported as the first thing to capture the malran’s attention two generations ago.

  For all the good it had done her. Instead of ending up malress of the Myren race, she’d wound up pregnant, only to have Eryx’s grandfather abandon her in favor of a commoner.

  He stood and marched toward the guest wing. The thick crimson rugs muffled his heavy strides and the dark stained walls lent a welcome refuge for his vengeful thoughts. Evanora would have her revenge. It was only a matter of time before a Steysis sat on the throne and humans served the Myren race as they were meant. If he played his cards right, the grieving baineann stowed in his guest room might be the trump card he needed in his overall strategy.

  Hysterical females were the last thing he’d willingly saddle himself with, but the one he’d found yesterday, prone and sobbing near his army’s training ground, had been too good to pass up.

  Well, the golden torc around her neck had been too good to pass up. A warrior’s torc—presented to each warrior’s baineann to denote her station. Between her tears and the faded bonding mark along her forearm, it didn’t take a genius to deduce her mate had very recently died—most likely “on the job.” And didn’t that leave an ideal opportunity to leverage?

  One more possible inroad to the Shantos camp.

  He paused and stretched his senses out around the property, a smooth-surfaced net gauging for any unwarranted ping of energy. Brenna in the kitchen and his guest above, as he’d expected. Few Myrens knew of his home, let alone visited, but interruptions wouldn’t serve his task.

  Waiting outside the closed door, Maxis strained his ears for any whisper of movement. Nothing. He rapped on the door and stood back.

  The gentle swoosh of fabric sounded, followed by soft footsteps.

  The handle turned and Phybe’s timid face peeked between the tiny opening, her weak smile belying her red-rimmed eyes. “Wesley.”

  Maxis stifled a harrumph. Barely. After seventy years hiding his identity from the bulk of Myren civilization one would think he’d choose his aliases with more care. “I hope you’re feeling more yourself this morning?”

  She pulled one pale pink lip between her perfect teeth and fidgeted with the doorknob. Her appearance matched her demeanor—pale, light brown eyes and unremarkable, straw-blond hair. The type of woman one might appreciate given enough time, but never one to call direct attention. Perfect for his purpose.

  He nudged the door wider and let himself in. A flick of energy spread the curtains open wide, letting in the unmerciful sun. “I wanted to give you more time to sleep, but we need to get you back to your family. I’m sure by now they’ve noted you’ve gone missing.”

  Too much longer and they’d follow her link to his doorstep.

  He strode to the small sitting area situated near the fireplace. Fruits and pastries covered the table, not a single piece touched. “I really wished you eaten.”

  She stayed grounded near the doorway, one hand against her stomach. Her pale blue cotton gown accented her fragileness. “My stomach can’t abide the thought of food.”

  “Please.” He motioned at the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Won’t you at least have a zurun before I see you home? It would do my worried heart good.”

  The flowery words nearly made him retch, but they worked. Joining him at the table, she peeled a bit of the baked confection between her dainty fingers.

  He situated himself in the chair opposite her. “I can’t have one of our fine warrior’s baineanns going about uncared for, now can I?”

  A shiver rippled through her tiny frame.

  He let her stoke on her loss for a moment, counting each bite that passed her lips. “Would you care to talk about it?”

  “There’s not much to talk about.” She took another bite. “He chased one of our criminals to Evad. Said humans were at risk because the man was violent. That’s all I know. He’d barely been gone ten minutes before I felt a violent pain in my chest. The pain they tell you you’ll fill when your mate dies—it’s so much worse. I couldn’t breathe or think. I just…ran.”

  She shoved away from the ivory plate.

  He stood and held out his hand. “Have you contacted anyone in your family? Anyone at all to let them know you’re safe?”

  Phybe shook her head and stared at her food. “No. It’s selfish of me, I know. I just can’t…”
She swallowed, ignoring the hand he offered, and clenched her fists in her lap. “I should have contacted his family, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.”

  Maxis tsked in the most solicitous tone he could manage, cupped her shoulder, and urged her to her feet. “It’s all right, my dear. You’ll see. Your fireann’s fellow warriors and their lovely wives will support you. I understand the malran is very supportive of those who suffer the loss of one serving our race.”

  Her lips pressed together in a shaky line and her eyes clamped shut. “It’s customary for a baineann to present herself to the malran if her mate dies in service. I never thought I would be one to practice the observance.”

  Maxis pulled her close for a conciliatory hug, putting as much warmth behind the gesture as he could feign. “I’m sure the malran will be most sympathetic to your situation. Give him a chance to make things right.”

  Phybe pulled away, her face flushed, gaze darting in every direction but the one where Maxis stood.

  “Let’s get you home before your family can hear of what’s happened from someone else. I’ll see you there myself.” Another hour in the infernal sun flying to Havilah and back was the last thing his tortured eyes needed, but losing the chance to get Phybe in the malran’s good graces would be worse. If the malran’s men hadn’t yet come looking for the woman, they soon would. Maxis wanted her waiting and ready.

  The trip went off with little conversation, only the barest essentials to gain direction to her home along the way. They flew through the air, their bodies at a respectable distance but for a mild line of cool weather. Maxis hovered close, sheltering Phybe from the brunt of the unexpected chill.

  They touched down on the outskirts of an isolated village reserved for warrior families. The small, pleasant homes were a colorful hodgepodge of adobe walls and slate roofs, deep green plants dotting the scenery with their vibrant rainbow blooms.

  “I’m afraid it’s best I remain here, my dear.” Maxis took her hand and laid a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “I wouldn’t want any of your peers to get the wrong idea—you being seen with a strange man and all.”

  Phybe remained silent, her free hand toying at the torc around her neck.

  “May I ask you one last question?”

  She gave a small nod and folded her hands demurely in front of her.

  “You do have friends to lean on here, don’t you? Someone you can talk to? I hate the idea of leaving you here alone at a time like this.”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I suppose so.”

  Ah. Finally. He’d been prodding and hinting since he’d found her to no effect when all he’d to do was ask. “Perhaps you need a friend outside your current circle. I would be honored to offer you my link. You could call on me whenever you needed someone to talk to.”

  He paused, letting her adjust to the idea along with its implications. Linking with a Myren outside of family or mates wasn’t taken lightly as it allowed two people not only to communicate telepathically, but also to locate each other. Other than the link a warrior made with his strategos upon his oath of fealty, such connections were rare due to the risks involved. It wasn’t the type of act anyone knew how to take back.

  Maxis set his face into a mask of sincerity and politeness and waited.

  Wariness sparked in Phybe’s gaze. Had he misjudged the situation?

  A trembling smile lit her face. “Yes, Wesley, I will link with you.”

  His inner predator purred with triumph. He’d won. He reached for her tiny hand. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he sent tendrils of his energy through their joined palms.

  Her tentative response tickled through his skin, a delicate thread of pale pink in his mind’s eye.

  Latching onto it quickly before she could summon it back, he wove it firmly within his own. If the link provided him precious knowledge from within the Shantos camp, his gamble would be worth it. Particularly if he could use Phybe to prove Eryx had brought his delicious human into Eden.

  He laid another, more reverent kiss atop her hand, the warmth of his success putting an extra bit of sincerity in the act. “I’m honored by your trust.” He released her, reached around her to a shoulder-high bush, and plucked a flower about the size of her ear. The petals were the coral of an Eden sunrise, the flower’s center a deep indigo with tiny white dots.

  Phybe cocked her head and glanced between the bush and the flower in his hand.

  “My grandmother once told me the krocious flower symbolizes a steadfast heart.” He tucked the blossom between her blonde hair and temple so it rested in the ridge above her ear. “I’ll be that for you, Phybe. You are not alone.”

  A tear slipped free and her lips quivered. “Thank you. Your comfort means more than I can ever repay.”

  Maxis tucked a strand of hair behind her other ear and smiled in what he hoped was something remotely sweet. “I’m sure someday I’ll have to rely on you for some kindness. I only hope the malran shows a decent amount of contrition for the loss of one of our own, especially one lost trying to protect those vile humans.”

  Phybe shuddered and glanced toward the row of homes in the distance.

  He caressed her shoulder and turned her toward home. “Go. Contact your family. Let them know you’re safe and then go see the malran. I’ll come to check on you in a day or two. Would you like that?”

  She nodded and trudged toward the village, disappearing into a villa with sunny yellow walls.

  A chipper color, perfect for his mood. He’d had a very fortunate morning. And Phybe would definitely repay him.

  Sooner than she could anticipate.

  * * * *

  The soft snick of a door latch nudged Lexi from sleep. Silk sheets caressed her cheek, and gray stone lined the walls. Not her apartment.

  The previous night’s events dominoed into place as she eased back the bed covers. Her heart slugged along at an unwilling pace and her thoughts staggered in a haphazard pattern. Where was Eryx?

  Her gaze connected with a dark wooden trunk and she jolted upright. Not just any trunk, but an ancient piece of artwork with wrought iron handles and hinges—one that floated in the air, waist-high near the bathroom doors.

  A full-figured woman who looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties poked her head around the still drifting box, and Lexi yipped.

  “I waited until I thought you’d had enough of a nap before I brought your things.” The woman lowered her hands as though she were motioning a church choir to sit.

  The trunk dropped to the floor with a muted thunk.

  “So much easier to handle these things on my own than wait on those boys to see to them for me.” She dusted her hands, planted them on her hips, and hustled forward. “Now then. I’m Orla Weathers.”

  Cinderella’s fairy godmother, cornflower blue gown and twinkling eyes included—except this version had silver hair to her hips, proudly displayed her curves, and didn’t carry a wand. Kind of a fairy godmother gone flower child.

  Orla plopped on the edge of the bed and pulled Lexi into a motherly hug. “I knew my Eryx was up to something. Had to be with him in Evad all the time, but the boy refused to talk.” She edged back, but kept a hold on Lexi’s shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. He’s found you now and that’s what counts.”

  Try as she might, Lexi couldn’t get any traction for her thoughts. A decent cup of coffee would fix it. Or at this point, maybe a case of Red Bull.

  Orla’s happy expression faded. “I’m so sorry.” She stood and put a good three feet between them, twisting her fingers. “I’ve completely startled you. And after the night you’ve had—”

  “Wait.” Lexi scissored her legs, not an easy feat with her jeans still on even if the sheets were slicker than sin. “Maybe we could try again?” She stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Lexi.”

  Orla took one glance at Lexi’s outstret
ched hand and beamed, hustling forward. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m not shaking hands with the woman who’s got my boy’s heart. You’re family now.”

  Strong arms wrapped around her once more, but nothing gripped her as tightly as Orla’s words. Family. A steady warmth spread through Lexi’s chest and her throat tightened. Maybe Orla had misunderstood her involvement with Eryx. Or had a penchant for drama and romance novels. “You’re Eryx’s mother?”

  Orla pulled away, a wistful smile on her slips. “No, Eryx’s parents passed to nirana many years ago. I’m the lucky woman who’s seen to him and his team of hooligans since he came squalling into this world.” She tapped the edge of the bed and bustled away. “You have a seat and I’ll get these things unpacked for you.” The woman might be past middle age, but she hustled with the energy of a two-year old. “If you want I can help you get a bath drawn before Eryx gets back. The tub in there looks decadent. Not surprising given Graylin’s eye for fine things.”

  Lexi halfway listened while Orla pulled outfit after outfit from the case, none of which looked like anything from home. There were at least three simple gowns similar to Orla’s, a stack of leggings and tanks like the ones Galena had worn—all silks or cottons in bold, jewel colors. Right behind those came four pairs of lovely leather sandals with sparkling beads woven into the design.

  Orla chattered about Graylin and Ludan, how she’d been surprised to learn of the cottage, and that she had plans to lecture her boys about keeping secrets.

  It was hard to follow the finer conversation details and catalog the trunk’s contents at the same time. “Is all of that for me?”

  Orla looked up, whatever she’d been talking about screeching to a halt.

  “I’m sorry.” Lexi tugged at the hem of her tank top. “That’s just a lot of clothes for a few days.”

  “A few days?” A wide-eyed blinky blink, but otherwise Orla stayed frozen in place.

  “Well, I figured Eryx would bring me some things from home. Or I’d go myself and get some.” Or would she be going back? Could she? And what about Ian? Shit! She looked around the room for her purse or phone. Ian had probably left a hundred voice mails by now.