The Steamwork Chronicles 3:

STEEL DOMINANCE

Cari Silverwood

www.loose-id.com

The Steamwork Chronicles 3: Steel Dominance

Copyright © January 2013 by Cari Silverwood

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eISBN 9781623001018

Editor: Crystal Esau

Cover Artist: April Martinez

Published in the United States of America

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

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* * * *

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Dedication

Once again I owe a great debt of gratitude to many people. Firstly, a thank-you to my wonderful beta readers, MJ, Bianca Sarble, and Sorcha Black.

Leia Shaw stuck by me as my crit partner for six or seven months while I assembled the big jigsaw that is Steel Dominance.

Both Nerine Dorman and Candace Blevins gave me impromptu and very helpful beta reads of the completed book.

And Cherise Sinclair came through like a cleansing storm after I thought I had everything perfect and shone her light in the dark, messy corners.

Though my fingers tremble whenever I send a book to her, I am in awe of her writing skills.

Thank you to everyone who helped.

Chapter One

Salonika, a coastal city in the Hellene Nation.

To Dankyo, from six hundred feet up, the fleet of spotlighted ironclads in Salonika’s harbor seemed as imposing as rubber ducks in a bathtub. He turned from his sightseeing and wrapped his fingers about the thick gold rope that ran up to the balloon, bracing himself against the push of the wind. The partygoers on this opulent gondolier airship were getting into the mood of these early New Year celebrations. Eleven o’clock by his pocket watch. The overhead blue and yellow voltaic lights swayed and sent shadows tilting.

The ambassador from Byzantium had brought his own entertainment. Two slave girls rose gracefully from their kneeling position at the clap of his hands. Both were veiled beneath their eyes by fine silver mesh. The other guests, in their suits and flamboyant gowns, moved to the edges of the gondolier.

One of the side effects of being an expert advisor for the Hellene government was receiving invitations to soirees like this. So long as he didn’t have to talk, this was pleasant.

Dankyo settled his back against the padded timber. The farthest slave with the short brunette hair reminded him of Kirsten. He snagged a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter. Sadness wasn’t him. Neither of them had suited the other. After a few weeks of Kirsten’s craziness, he’d wanted to throw someone off a cliff. The woman had been all into appearances and boasting to her friends as if he was some sort of prize. And too clingy. If there was a woman out there for him, leastways he now knew it wasn’t the fun, dizzy type.

He hoped that one day Kirsten would find a man who could match her, but it wasn’t going to be him. Being with her had been like being drowned in a vat of syrup.

What’s left? The serious, well-grounded sort? Someone who won’t scare too easily? Someone I can tease off their pedestal? Or drag off. There was no one, never had been. Yet for a heart-stopping moment, in his mind’s eye, he saw a woman’s lust-darkened eyes looking up at him. God. Yes.

It took a few seconds for the thud of his pulse to settle.

Sipping the tangy Riesling, he watched the second slave undulate to the wavering music of the sitar. A black braid of hair hung to her waist, swaying and whipping in circles to the music. Even her full breasts moved. The mesh and fine silk of her costume revealed enough of her figure to make him sharpen his gaze. Someone else’s, a slave, but desirable. Her long neck begged a man to set his teeth there.

Ever since Claire had showed him the possibilities, this new appreciation of women distracted him far too much. Thanks to her, he knew some women craved submission as much as he craved the reverse. So now he could watch her together with his commander, Theodore Kevonis, and envy their love for each other even more than he would have if ignorant. Though some days he still wanted to take Claire out and have her shot by firing squad. Pestiferous woman. They got on well in general, though. After all, she could strip a rifle and put it back together before most of his men could blink.

Not that he wanted a woman like that in his bed.

Dankyo swallowed more wine while admiring the dancing slaves. Damn life for setting him these challenges. Having an itch he couldn’t figure out how to scratch was irritating. People were best savored at a distance—some of them from an extremely long distance.

Light boomed, sprinkled, and blazed across the night sky.

The sitar faltered, and cheers and shouts broke forth from the guests as they turned to see what happened far below. Something burned bright as day and whistled skyward in rainbow colors.

Fireworks. Dankyo’s well-trained brain didn’t fail him. Early fireworks set off down among the ironclad battleships. A distraction. Why?

A tiny squeak made him look at the ambassador, who was staggering backward, hand at his chest. A small knife had sprouted there. Blood spread across his white shirt.

Assassination. No one near the man. The direction of the blade and a glimpse of the raven-haired slave told him where to run. He flung aside the glass and took off from his toes, his good leather shoes bending as he reached for the woman’s arm.

Their eyes met above the veil. With a miniscule shake of her head, and amusement in her eyes, she spun on her heel and sprinted for the far edge of the gondolier.

Did she mock him? His fingers closed on air, and he tore after her, barely two steps behind. Disbelieving, he saw her dive for the edge, flip into a somersault, and vanish. His shoes skidded. He grabbed at a rope to stop himself.

Something dropped with a crack and creak from the belly of the gondolier airship—a black thing, spinning. Then, in the flickering light of explosions and with moonlight painting splashes of silver, he saw wings snap out from the falling object—it slipped sideways, then soared into the night, smooth as an owl on a predatory errand.

“What in all the heavens,” he whispered. Admiration stung his voice. My God, the woman had stored a collapsible craft on the underside and used it to escape.

Dankyo contemplated the dark sky and wondered where the pretty killer was headed. Even if he wasn’t on duty, he’d let his guard down while he pondered about women and sex. This death seemed partly his fault. But enough wallowing in self-doubt. He never dwelled on the past unless he could learn from it.

Something told him morning would not spell the end of this matter. He was due to return to duties as head of security at House Kevonis, but this would put the cat among the pigeons.

The young Byzantine ruler, the Emperor-Bey Constantin, would be outraged at the assassination of his ambassador. From what Dankyo had heard, the ambassador had been here in Salonika to beg for aid. The politics of Byzantium were already as twisted as a bowl of spaghetti. Whoever this enemy was of the emperor-bey’s, they had employed a most efficient assassin.

* * * *

Byzantium. Capital of the long-besieged Byzantine Empire.

“Is it done?” the emperor-bey asked, barely glancing at his assassin, Xiang. He strolled the hill-top gardens that evening with a heavy coat of wolf fur about his shoulders. The high and open audience chamber of colonnades and white domed roof had always been a favorite of his.

The cries of gulls making a last run along the Bosporus river were almost lost in the whine of the winds. He drew the top of the coat closer. If he’d not had this need for secrecy, one of his women might have warmed him.

Xiang, all fine in her black armor and gray leggings, stepped closer. “Yes, Your Serenity. It is done. He died well enough to attract attention.”

“Good!” The emperor-bey slapped his palm on the stone balustrade, leaning a forearm on it as he surveyed what lay below. “I have already requested aid from the Brito-Gallics and the Hellene Nation to stop the evil Ottoman attacks. Of course that woman, Sofia White, also has to be quietly requested. You did well there, finding her. If her ideas are right, I can spit in the faces of the Heraklos. Trample on their graves even.” He smiled, staring across the rooftops of the city at the river six hundred feet below.

“Yes. Her theory of the Clockwork Warrior is intriguing.”

“Xiang, I can tell when you are scheming. You don’t move. You don’t smile. You’re like a hell-damned statue.”

He eyed his best guard, his assassin extraordinaire who also happened to have a damn fine brain and body. Not that he’d ever want her in his bed. Slaves were far safer than this snakelike woman who could slice a man to shreds in seconds and then drink tea without putting a digit wrong.

“Ah.” But now Xiang did move. One eyelid flickered. “I found a man I want.”

“Oh? To bed?” Well, Xiang had a heart after all, or at least the right parts between her legs. “Who? Why?”

“His name is Dankyo. I want him here so I can decide whether to kill him or not. May I?”

“Of course. You may. So long as it does not interfere with this new exploration of the Clockwork Warrior puzzle.”

“Thank you, Your Serenity.” Xiang bowed her head.

He inclined his head, smiling.

To be the one who orchestrated the solution of the ancient puzzle would truly place him among the greatest of rulers. And if that solution led to him acquiring a blueprint for an army of clockwork warriors, all the better. Soon the Ottomans and the Heraklos would tremble at his approach.

Chapter Two

Dankyo swiped his hand down his face. Three months since the assassin escaped, a whole file cabinet of political maneuverings later, and here he was…no murderer caught, but the president of the Hellene Nation had requested Dankyo’s help with the Byzantine situation. He adjusted his seat on the suitcase. The incoherent bustle of Salonika’s airfield threatened to explode his brain if he had to stay sitting here any longer.

The airships either left early or late and the bearers and luggage handlers and ticket office were swamped by buzzing swarms of tourists and other civilians with such urgent needs to travel that they had to shout everything. Screaming children and piddling dogs had taken over the one cafe that was open at six a.m. And he was stuck waiting for another civilian. A woman. Here he was, heading into a war zone, albeit the boring stagnant one at Byzantium, and he had a woman assigned to him. Damnation.

He took out the envelope and checked the contents again. The papers affirmed his temporary rank of captain, gave him ad hoc permission to own a slave while in Hellene territory, plus detailed his duties. Aid the emperor-bey in tightening his security and unearthing traitors. Protect this civilian Sofia White while she attempted to unravel the mystery of the Tomb of the Clockwork Warrior.

A smeary-faced child toot tooting like a train across the tiled floor threatened to steam straight into his shiny black shoes. He shifted a suitcase across, then beamed at the befuddled look on the child’s face. Good. A barricade worked. If only he could use cannon on them too.

The emperor of Byzantium had finagled a lot of aid from the Hellene Nation. And all for what? So we can get a portion of what might come from the tomb? A far-fetched idea that one. More likely the politicians aimed to keep the city out of Ottoman hands.

A woman caught his eye. Tall and elegant, in faded blue slacks, cream shirt, and long leather coat, she wove a path between the groups of jabbering people and pets. She put a hand on the curly mop of one toddler’s head as if to steady him, did a slip past a melted ice cream, and then spotted Dankyo.

He kept his gaze on her. Pretty. Forthright green eyes. Wavy walnut-brown hair that touched her shoulder blades and swung fluidly when she turned. He dipped his head slightly, and she set course for where he waited in his fortress of baggage.

* * * *

In all that’s holy. This one’s big. Sofia’s first thoughts made her smile. She compressed her lips to hide her amusement.

Since he blatantly studied her, she did the same as she approached. The kids and the scattered litter she had to dodge made pretending not to study him easier. Smart, sexy, and Asian. This had to be him—Dankyo of House Kevonis. He didn’t frown, but disapproval radiated from him. She tightened her hold on the case tucked under her arm.

He stood slowly, brushed off his tan trousers, and straightened the buttons, one by one, on his white shirt.

Her long stride made the distance close fast.

Rumors said he could be a ruthless bastard. But she could be a ruthless bitch. The struggle for university grants had taught her how important it was to pretend to be friends with your enemies. But, in the face of such an intimidating man, her certainty faltered. Stop this. I will not doubt myself.

Maybe if she kept practicing being ruthless, one day she’d believe her own press.

The man’s a little taller, maybe. Brawn does not beat brains. I can handle him.

“Hello. You must be Dankyo of House Kevonis?” She grinned and held out her hand. Her contralto voice came out warm. Perfect.

“Yes. Good morning.” As if he’d not already seen every inch of her, he examined her top to bottom and back up again. “Sofia White?”

She lowered her arm. Like that, huh? “Of course.” Who the hell else would I be?

“Your clothes are inappropriate.”

“What?”

“For a slave. You’ll have to change your attire.”

Was he trying to upset her? She bit out her words in a sweet voice. “I’m not a slave. I’m pretending. Once we reach Byzantium…”

“You will obey, or I am not taking you.”

“What? You can’t do that! You’re supposed to be helping me.”

His eyes narrowed the slightest before he steamrolled onward. “Let’s be clear from the start. Two-minute explanation. If I’m in charge of your safety, you will follow my directions. Your clothes are inappropriate. Now. Here. Not just in Byzantium.

“We are going to a city that has centuries of slavery ingrained in its system and spying is like milk to a baby to them. There will be someone assigned to watch us there.” He swept his hand in a small arc. “It is possible there is someone here. Slaves do not question. They wear far less”—he tweaked an eyebrow upward for a fraction of a second—“clothes. You need to be a slave to access the harem where the tomb lies, fine. To their eyes, you must be, not pretend. Emperor-Bey Constantin’s enemies will destroy him if they guess what you are truly doing. Mistakes may kill.”

She opened her mouth, sure from the burn on her cheeks that she was blushing furiously. “Look—”

“Here.” He held out a small paper-wrapped package. “I checked your luggage that you sent here and saw the deficiency. These are your clothes.”

At the last second, she remembered, there may be watchers, and lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “You checked my luggage! How dare you. How—” The anger closed her throat down, and she shook her head vigorously.

“Yes. I did. It was my job to do so. I seek out weak points. If you’re an enemy, I use them to take you down. If a friend, I fix things. Do you want to come to Byzantium, or not?”

“I…” She wound down. Keep yelling at him sotto voce—a behavior she hated in others—or shut up and take her medicine because this was what she wanted?

The implacable set of his face reinforced his words. Or I am not taking you with me. She had to go. This was the chance of a lifetime. Giving up this close to success was not an option. All the angry, argumentative words avalanched up in the back of her throat, dying to be said. Could this be as dangerous as he said?

To their eyes you must be, not pretend. She’d be okay in her own rooms or even in the emperor-bey’s harem while she studied the tomb. This was temporary.

Damn. I can see the logic, to a degree, though spies watching us here seems crazy. Damn. Medicine-taking time. This was going to taste bad.

“Very well.” She sniffed, then took the bundle from him. “Thank you. A porter should be bringing another small case. The contents are important to my work. Send it on to the airship, please.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go get changed.”

“Do that. In Byzantium, you’d be doing this in front of me.”

Oh sure. Not in a million years. Now he smiled? Bastard.

In the ladies’ room, she found a spare cubicle and took out the clothes. Little red silk bandeau top, matching panties, as well as a flowing dress-like top, and pants that cinched in at the ankles, and were as see-through as a mist of rain. Teensy diamantes glinted from the fabric. Plus there was a pair of red shoes like ballet flats, and a black leather collar.

“Oh God.” This was a slave collar. But no worse than wearing the clothes. It would be stupid to stall about this one thing, wouldn’t it?

What evidence had he given her that proved there might be spies here? None. There’d been that kerfuffle some months back and the assassination, but nothing since. Why would anyone watch her or Dankyo? They’d have to be suspicious already. Knowing what she’d heard of Dankyo, he was just being super conscientious and protective. Damn him.

But… She heaved out a sigh. No matter how much she told herself she was brave, the man daunted her. And he’d said he would leave her behind. Risking his displeasure seemed unwise.

She scrutinized the collar. Maybe she could meet him halfway? Well, nine tenths of the way.

She shut her eyes and counted to ten. Getting changed took five minutes, summoning the courage to walk out into the airfield boarding area took another five. But she did it.

As she walked back to Dankyo, she made sure to keep her gait businesslike. No swaying of hips, nothing feminine at all, yet every eye in the place seemed to center on her. She clutched to her chest her old clothes and the collar she’d not donned and prayed the outfit covered the essential bits.

The pile of baggage had gone and only Dankyo remained. The line of his trousers suggested a person who liked order. The close cut of his black hair said military. And the flagrant regard of her figure as she approached, well, that rumbled male, through and through, all the way up her spine.

She faltered. Her nipples tightened against the cool silk.

He stared at the collar.

“Can we skip the collar? I mean—”

He shook his head. “No.” Then held out his hand. “Your clothes?”

One day she’d get revenge for all this. She thrust the clothes at him, took a deep breath, and put on the collar. It didn’t feel so different. Just odd—like painting a target on herself.

“Thank you.”

“My other case?”

“It arrived. I sent it on. Follow me a few feet behind.”

She rolled her eyes, then trailed him out onto the landing field, feeling like some sort of lost puppy dog. The drone of passing gyrocopters and chug of pump engines drowned out sounds, but the salt tang in the air reminded her of the sand and waves beyond the perimeter fence.

Every half minute she had to stop herself from adjusting the fit of the collar.

She walked a bit faster to catch up to Dankyo.

“Excuse me, but is all my luggage aboard?”

Dankyo didn’t turn his head. “No. Most of it was wrong for a slave. You’ll find I kept the essential equipment of your profession and some toiletries but not much else.”

She gaped. This seemed ridiculous. But Dankyo was the supposed expert. It would also be ridiculous of her to ignore his advice without more facts.

“We’ll be lucky to get on board in any case. That much baggage would’ve gotten us grounded.”

Anxiety flared again and gave her courage. All this pretending would be pointless if she couldn’t do her work when she got there. Sofia tapped hesitantly at his broad back with her finger. “Much of that was equipment. If you’ve left any—”

He swiveled on his heel to face her, and she ran into his chest. “You must be smart, or you’d not be here. Use your brains. Slaves do not poke their owners.” His mahogany-brown eyes glared into hers. “Can you remember that?”

And not snapping at him took effort. She sucked on her lip, then took three calming breaths. This close she could smell him—a mixed, earthy and bitter scent. Gun oil? Cordite? It reminded her of her dad and shooting cans off tree stumps. Back when things were good between them. She blinked, then sighed. “Can we talk, please, on board?”

“Yes.”

She searched his face and found blankness. Damn, as readable as the wrong side of a playing card.

The midsized airship they headed for had a pale blue envelope with gold and black running wolves decorating the midline. At the bottom of the boarding ramp they met an Asian woman, Captain Kaysana Onomi, with her black hair perkily done up in a bun. Though she greeted them, a giant of a man called Sten had the final say. His fringe of messy blond hair swayed across his eyes while he poured a mean stare over Dankyo.

“Shall we let them aboard?” Kaysana cocked an eyebrow at Sten.

“Sure. Might liven the Princess Kay up if we get them to walk the plank.”

Dankyo drew in a long breath.

Is he going to get angry? And he wants me to be low-key? Panicking, she lurched forward into his back, rocking him. No one would know it was a deliberate distraction.

“Excuse me.” Dankyo swung around and inserted a finger under her collar. “Thank you for allowing us aboard. I must attend to my clumsy slave’s punishment.”

What? She’d been trying to help him. Being towed up the ramp with his finger hooked under the collar was the last straw. Her temper shot to boiler level.

She hissed. “You are not—”

His palm clamped over her mouth, but he kept urging her upward. “You need to control yourself.”

She bit him, hard, and though he glowered, he left his hand there.

By then Dankyo had tucked her into his body and held her even tighter. His hip and hard muscles rolled against her as they walked. That no one stopped him gagging her was alarming, but what worried her more was the way she warmed between her legs. A couple in long, flowing Eastern dress watched wide-eyed.

“It’s just a slave,” the man muttered to his partner, and they turned away and entered the airship door.

“No matter how you feel about this, no owner would allow that to go unpunished. You should be crawling to the cabin.”

Embarrassment, anger, and confusion flooded her. She so wanted to kill him. This was taking the pretending too far. By the time they reached the cabin door, Sofia had stopped biting, and his palm was moist and hot on her lips.

“I’m letting you go so I can open the door. Are you sensible now?” He loosened his hand.

Just to annoy him, she licked his palm as he lifted it away, then wiped her mouth with her fingers. While he turned the knob, she dragged her wet hand down the pretty finery of her clothing as if getting rid of something distasteful.

“Enter.” The word came out like a growl. On his palm she caught sight of the red and white marks from her bite.

Oops.

“Why, thank you, Sir.” She walked in feeling lost and cross yet determined to keep her head.

Her two lonely suitcases waited next to a neat brown bedroll. A row of tiny bottles in a timber carry case was perched next to it. Another suitcase lay on the bed, which was covered with a peach quilt. There was a chest of drawers, and a door to the right that must lead to a bathroom. Along the far wall behind the bed ran a row of small brass-rimmed portholes. The scents of lemon and furniture polish teased her nose. She sneezed.

“Gesundheit.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Dankyo strode past. He sat on the bed, making it dip and creak, and crossed his legs, showing black socks above his black shoes. As if she wasn’t ready to strangle, emasculate, and claw him to pieces, he unlatched his suitcase, pulled out a revolver, and proceeded to check its mechanisms.

The pistol made her pause only a second. He wasn’t going to shoot her. “If that’s for me to kill you, I don’t need it. My fingernails will do.”

He grunted and unloaded, then reloaded the gun.

Two sleeping places.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Alarms rang in her head. “Um…” She almost didn’t want the answer. “Where are you sleeping?”

“Here.” He raised one eyebrow. “I’m here. You are there.” He pointed at the bedroll.

When she only frowned and pulled a face, he added. “Again, you are a slave. I can’t do otherwise. There’s no other room in any case. And there are servants and passengers here. I trust no one.”

“And if I said you were taking this too far? That the chances of anyone watching are infinitesimal.”

“Infinitesimal is bigger than zero chance. The reason Theo is still alive is because I’m thorough. One day, you’ll thank me.”

Uh. Unlikely. She was more likely to get hit by a meteor than be seen by a spy…wasn’t she? He wasn’t giving in, though.

So she had to sleep in the same room as him? As this gargantuan man with muscles like rocks and a body as wide as a river barge? Surreptitiously, she flicked an assessing look over Dankyo. He was nicely built. Her mother would no doubt approve. God. Snap out of it. Stop drooling. My boyfriends, when I have them, are far less…dangerous than this.

“Very well, then you have the floor—”

“No. You can share the bed if you wish”—he smiled slightly, and she knew she must look appalled—“or not. But I will not sleep on the floor.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, then let her shoulders slump. The man imagined spies around every corner. Military life had warped his view of the world, and she had to suffer because of it.

“Go wash up, and then we will have this talk you wished. There’s courtesy soap etcetera near the bedroll.”

Only this man would say etcetera. The small, lidless carrying case with the row of bottles enticed her. Multiple clangs and the toot of a horn warned the ship was taking off. She braced herself. The floor softly rocked, and then the world outside the porthole fell away.

“The pilot is smooth,” Dankyo murmured.

“Yes.” She knelt and eyed the case. Thoughts slotted into place. Six little cut-glass bottles with painted labels. Each label hand-done with letters hidden among pale foliage and rainbow butterflies. The artwork was gorgeous. The more she stared, the more the leaves and tiny flowers beckoned her and formed into lines and letters.

“Sofia.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been looking at that case for two minutes.”

“Each of these bottles, though at face value seem labeled with words like”—she selected one—“perfume, has the name of a poison entangled in the artwork.”

“Put it down!” He was beside her in seconds and grabbed her wrist.

“Hey!”

“Put it down!” He made her set the bottle back into its niche. “Damn it, woman. Even touching might be dangerous. This is a trap.”

“Yes.” She smiled lopsidedly at him. “But too obvious to be real. Someone wants to scare us.”

“How did you see this?” He let go of her hand, leaving it tingling.

“It’s what I do. I solve puzzles. You must know that?”

He sat back on his heels and seemed to assess her, his stark brown eyes relaxing a little. Then he rubbed his chin and stood. “I did. And then again, in a way, I did not. I see you know your business. I also see that this has intrigued you more than scared you. Perhaps that was their intent?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps.” It was true—she did want to go to Byzantium more than ever. Puzzles made her alive, woke every part of her brain, and made the world itself like an immense puzzle that she had to solve.

However, she had to admit this strange little teasing perfume puzzle only emphasized how right Dankyo might be. Someone had been watching them.

“Hmm.” He indicated the pistol. “Can you shoot?”

“Yes. A little. I hit what I aim at, mostly.”

“Good. You may need that skill. Don’t move while I check the rest of the cabin.”

For ten minutes or more, she watched as he examined everything—vases, books, containers, the bed, and the bathroom, then returned to sit on the bed. “I can find no other traps, but if you see anything else suspicious, say so. Leave the poisons. I’ll dispose of them. Go wash your hands to be safe, though. Then we will talk.”

She returned, flicking the last drops of water from her fingers. A high-backed cane chair caught her attention, so she pulled it over to face the bed, and sat. And was suddenly again aware of how flimsily she was clad. Red bandeau and panties and little else except this overtunic that might have been made of whimsy, it was that see-through. Well, damn him, he could look if he wished. After all, he was quite an eyeful himself. She lingered on Dankyo where he sat against the pillows, pistol in his lap, with one hand resting on his thigh and the other hand laid palm down on a white pillow.

With big hands like that, whatever he touched seemed his. She shivered. Maybe this little adventure would have side benefits? Dankyo, that immense body, curled around her, on her…in her. The thrust and wet passion of sex came front and center to her mind. The shiver turned into a flare of heat that shook awake every particle of her flesh.

Oh, yes. If only he was agreeable. Already she’d thawed a little of that stern steel exterior. Dankyo was another puzzle she wished to solve.

Chapter Three

“Well?” Dankyo staring at her was like having a train bearing down on her. Large and one-way only, and if he kept coming, he’d flatten her.

“Uh.” She blinked, shook her head. Damn, the man was distracting in a should-she-run-and-hide-or-drool-on-him sort of way. “I understand that you’re taking this slave disguise more seriously than I thought necessary. But”—she leaned forward and clasped her knees—“I need some boundaries. I mean, you have me prancing around in this clothing.” She picked at the light, see-through tunic. “I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

“Boundaries? And what have clothes to do with protection?” He grunted and a line formed between his eyes. “In case you think I have no restraint, I assure you I won’t sexually molest you because you’re wearing clothes that show off your cleavage and other parts.” For a flicker of time he glanced at far more than her cleavage.

She resisted trying to cover herself but sat up straighter. Typical male.

“I’ll sum up what might be bothering you, shall I, Miss White?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I can always—”

“One. In public you must be, to other eyes, my slave, in every way. The Heraklos family is a far deadlier enemy of the emperor-bey than the Ottoman. Court intrigue is complex and small things lead to big bad things happening.”

Big bad things? She screwed up her mouth at one side. Did he think her dense? “I get that. Strangely, despite all my university degrees, I do know how to learn, Mr. Teacher.”

“Hmph. Two. Out of the public eye, you may relax a little. But to anticipate an error such as a door being opened while you’re doing something unslave-like, such as insulting me, we should try to stay in role as much as possible.” He sent her a level stare.

“I suppose. I’ll keep my insults low-key, then.”

“Thank you. So far I’m impressed by one facet of your intelligence. Which is good.”

“It is?” Dankyo was full of compliments. “So nice of you. Sounds like you see most as fools.”

He nodded, though his mouth twitched. “Precisely. This way I’m rarely disappointed.”

“And rarely make friends.”

“Perhaps. People are overrated.”

She gaped at him. “You know what? I’m told I have bad people skills, but you just blitz me out of existence on that one.”

“Ah. Glad to see you at last admit my superiority.” While she struggled over a comeback, he rolled on. “Three. In truth, I bluffed you at the airfield. Leaving you behind was not an option. I have orders to take you to Byzantium. But it will be on my terms. To help with appearances, you will learn some of the basic responses a slave might know. How to kneel, make obeisance, and so on. The Byzantines have strict protocols for slaves, slave dress, and even grooming. Learn them. I shall strive to keep us as low-key as possible at court.”

His tone was neutral, despite their little duel of words. I can be as restrained as you, Mr. Dankyo. “Sure. But you should understand that I’m not to be trifled with when I’m not pretending.”

“Of course. You also need to learn some self-defense skills. ” He heaved himself off the bed and went over to unscrew a porthole. Fresh sea air rushed in and riffled the bed quilt and sent a few leaves swirling away from the small pot of violets on the bedside table. Dankyo stepped to the bedroll, picked up the rack of poisoned bottles, took them to the porthole, and tossed them out.

Sofia stopped swinging her legs, then realized it must be safe. “We are over the sea already, then?”

“Yes. I generally don’t aim to kill people by throwing things out of airships.” The porthole latch squeaked as he screwed it shut. “Try not to think of me as stupid, Sofia. It will help you keep out of trouble.”

“I’d prefer Miss White, from you. You’ve a very bleak view of life, Mr. Dankyo. And I was hoping to like you. After admiring your physique and all.” She grinned inside. Teasing him was just a little perilous but fun.

But being caught in the knife-sharp flare of his eyes was not. She almost flinched.

“Sofia. I intend to call you what I wish. Let me be clear. I protect you. I do not serve you. You have a nice voice and a passable figure; don’t destroy my perception of you by being petty.” He walked toward her.

“Pfft.” Making the belittling noise sent a tinkle of ice through her veins, but she needed to stand up to him now, or she’d lose her nerve. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a stick up your ass?”

And now he was standing before her, towering just a mite, but she didn’t sink back in the chair. Nerves of steel—that’s me. Gulp.

“Often.” He leaned in, propped his hands on the chair arms, and gave her a thin smile. “Sometimes I beat them with said stick.”

She swallowed. “Eww. Sorry, but just plain ewww. That paints a disgusting picture.”

He smiled, crinkles appearing around his eyes. “Good. My jokes are improving, then.” He reached down and adjusted the fine embroidered neckline of her tunic. When his fingertips brushed her skin, swirls of cold, and somehow also heat, swept to her stomach. “I suggest you check your luggage, Sofia. I must go settle the cost of our passage.”

The soft stomp of his boots subsided as he made for the door. There was a quiet click, and she was alone. “Oh my God.” She slumped. “That man.” Half the time she wanted to kill him, the other half, she wasn’t sure. Her female nature seemed to be playing havoc with her emotions. It must be the time of the month.

“I’m sure I had other questions. But what in hell were they?”

She opened her cases and blanched. Not only had he left some equipment behind, all her clothes had been replaced. How? The man must have had no more than two days’ notice of her joining him on this trip. He’d even removed the clothes from the smaller case she’d brought with her, and how fast was that? Was the man a magician? He’d left her notes and the lithographs at least.

The new clothes stunned her. She’d spent her adult years only wearing a dress when she absolutely had to. Every single article of clothing he’d brought her was flimsy as a breeze, pretty and feminine, and as delicately revealing as lingerie.

I am doomed. She put a fingernail in her mouth and nibbled. Though, goodness, all this must be worth more than her university stipend for a year. Were those real gemstones?

Chapter Four

It was a two-day trip to Byzantium, with all the stops to let passengers off or to dodge around the Ottoman territories. Learning to do the slave’s obeisance and how to kneel gracefully on command without grimacing was nigh impossible. Dankyo never looked smug. He merely instructed, yet it bothered her no end. Her mind endlessly reminded her that this was so wrong.

The first time she did the obeisance with her forehead to the floor and arms outstretched, she’d had a fit of the giggles and earned a growl from the stupid man. This was not why she’d studied for years. But, she persevered, and so did he. And the first time she got it right, she’d waited in position for what seemed ages. The only word he spoke was a gruff, “Good.”

When she sat up, he had a look of what she could only think of as puzzlement on his face. She might be a puzzle expert, but this one had her stumped. Did he think her so inept that she couldn’t learn simple body moves and positions?

Maybe he did. To prove him wrong, she memorized and did the next two positions and moves perfectly in a quarter the time. Which had achieved exactly no more than a curt, thank you, from Dankyo. Annoying.

Even in sleep he annoyed her. She’d not slept in the same room as a man more than a few times at university, and none of them had loud nightmares like Dankyo. Though she detested some of his ways, she couldn’t help but wonder what haunted him, and couldn’t help but feel concern. When she tried to wake him by hissing words at him, he’d sat up and muttered some unintelligible curses at her in the dark—and that had scared the hell out of her.

By the second day, she was ready to gnaw her fingernails off from boredom and her shoulder surely had bruises from sleeping on the floor. No matter which way she’d turned, the timber floor had been like rock. The alternative was to share the bed with Dankyo, which was going to happen over her still-twitching corpse. Never.

If only there was something worth doing in the cabin. She’d pored over her notes and the lithographs of the tomb so many times the words floated before her eyeballs. The picture of the Clockwork Warrior in all his gold-and-mosaic magnificence always captured her attention. The two certified paintings of him, seated with his sword between his knees, were what she’d based her thesis on. She’d not thought anyone outside academia would read it, but it seemed someone had. The emperor-bey of Byzantium no less. She could see the smile on her father’s face as he congratulated her.

As if. He’d probably call it a lucky guess.

She slipped the lithograph of the paintings back into a folder, tossed it into the open suitcase, and considered her options. With her hands on the quilt by her side, she scanned the room.

All she had left to do was to read books on how to grow flowers or raise children, or to peer out the little portholes at the clouds.

The door banged open.

She jumped. “Oh.”

“Time to see how well you can shoot.” Dankyo stood in the doorway.

She heaved in a breath. “Lead the way.” Outside! Yes!

“I’ve arranged to tow a target from the rear gun platform.”

Gun platform? But she held her tongue, noting the curious passersby, and followed Dankyo along the corridor toward the rear of the ship. Head down, two steps behind. The mantra came to her automatically, and she realized how wise all the practicing, all the circling of the cabin behind Dankyo, had been. The backstabbing treacheries of the court at Byzantium were often featured in the papers. I just never thought my research would lead me to this.

To be allowed into the harem to examine the tomb close-up, the first foreigner to do so for centuries, was an incredible honor. Especially as she was damn near certain she could solve the mystery of the Clockwork Warrior. I can do this. Dankyo might be an arrogant, irritating—she glanced at his back—handsome pain in the rear, but he knew what he was doing.

They reached a steel-reinforced door. The hulking Sten waited there.

“Afternoon, Dankyo.” He nodded and swept her with an appraising look before unlocking the door.

“Sir.” Dankyo nodded back. “You’re well armed for a passenger vessel.”

“Yep. Never hurts to be careful, though. We’ve fought off a few pirates over the ocean. ’Specially where the borders are iffy. War brings out the worst in people, and round here there’s been centuries of it.” Sten ushered them through. Wind gusted. The gun platform was a semicircular room half open to the sky.

As she squeezed past Sten, Sofia felt the heat from his body. Once she and Dankyo were inside the room housing the gun platform, Sten came in behind and shut the door. The metal cupola with two gun barrels projecting outward didn’t distract her for long. The two men mightn’t be much taller than her, but they were both fit and well muscled. Sten had the physical dimensions of a statue of an ancient hero, even if he was dressed in khaki overalls. The presence of these two massive men with her in this small room made her want to shrink into the wall.

“I don’t like slavery,” Sten muttered. “You know that, don’t you, man?”

The darkness in his blue eyes made her cringe and shuffle back.

Dankyo gestured downward with his palm—the signal he’d taught Sofia for kneeling. “Behind me.”

She slipped to her knees, grateful to no longer be the focus of Sten.

“I gathered that when we boarded. I apologize if this offends you, but we will be disembarking soon.”

As if Dankyo had said nothing, Sten continued. “I was a slave once. So you see, I was planning on tossing you overboard if I found out she was one.”

Sofia let out a frightened gasp and trembled. Oh Lord! He’s planning to kill Dankyo! What did he intend to do to her?

“You’d find that difficult to achieve.” Though his tone of voice was as steady as that of a man discussing the time of day, Dankyo shifted his leg until his trouser cloth brushed Sofia’s shoulder. His fingers casually touched her head.

Calmness settled in her. She was trusting Dankyo? Internally she shrugged at herself. Then his fingers moved slowly on her hair. Between her legs tingled. Like an invisible ocean current, desire surfaced.

She shut her eyes. Here I am, kneeling on the floor, with two men discussing killing one another, and I’m getting wet? What is wrong with me?

Something about the kneeling position next to Dankyo, as if he truly owned her and protected her, gave a deeper significance to what had seemed a pointless exercise. Yet she couldn’t quite understand why.

“Guess I would. Stand down. I like you even if I haven’t the foggiest what you two are planning.” Sten chuckled. “If she’s a slave, I’ll eat my ship.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

“You’ve scared Sofia.”

“Oh. Damn. Hey, I ain’t planning to do it, little Sofia. I was joking. Sorry, sometimes I get carried away.”

Little? She looked up at him and caught a wink. Little Sofia? She’d have spat out a smart and biting comment only yesterday. Today, though, she held her tongue, and almost held back the frown. With her knowledge of Arabic, Greek, and Ottoman, nothing at the court would slip past her. There would be worse said in Byzantium. I can do this.

Dankyo grunted. “Then I can’t see why you bothered suggesting it.”

“Just testing you. Being sure. Now.” He gestured at the open sky behind Sofia. “You said you wanted some target practice. There you go. I have to stay and watch, though. That cannon’s too lethal for me to leave you here alone.”

After a few seconds, Dankyo spoke. “Very well. Understandable. Sofia, rise and tell me if you can use this revolver.”

“Ha!” Sten leaned against the wall. “Knew it. No owner sets a gun in the hands of a little bed slave like she looks to be.” He jerked his head at her when she hesitated. “Keep going. I’m just watching from here on. Kaysana could likely shoot circles around this one, though.”

“Oh?” Dankyo steered her to a place to the left of the cannon’s handgrips and triggers. This gun was double barreled, and each barrel was a yard and a half of blue-and-gray metal with a fat green glass tube running along the underside.

“Here.” He dragged his revolver from inside his black coat. The metal clunked heavily when he placed the weapon on the timber edge of the cupola. “See if you can hit that out there.”

From an anchor point on the timber, a thin rope trailed out about ten yards, and at the other end, a small green balloon wobbled in the winds.

“Twenty drachma says she misses,” Sten declared.

What?

Dankyo regarded her thoughtfully and tapped his fingers beside the revolver. “You’re on.”

Something snapped. Damn them both, toying with me. I’m a scientist, not some horse to bet on.

And yet…there was more than that. She looked down, too aware of the bulk of Dankyo inches away, of his body’s scent and that of his garments. Everything rolled together. Her lack of clothes made her female vulnerability come to the fore, where it tangled up with her logical, don’t-fuck-with-me self. Two men with her, in a small room where her every breath was clogged with their essence. The thick sexuality made her skin tingle. Made her dread.

Something terrible seemed just there, beyond her fingertips.

Fantasies surfaced—the ones she always had, late at night, in dreams and nightmares. The ones where she lay helpless while a man did as he liked with her body; the ones that played in her mind when her staid, sensible lovers took her to the brink: the ones that she needed every single time to reach orgasm. The rape fantasies she’d never told anyone, ever.

Damn. They’re just imaginary, leave them be, stupid. Except now, it was Dankyo featuring front and center, inside her head, toying with her, doing what he wanted, bending her over the timber, wrenching down her panties…

What was worse, she knew all about his patron, Theo Kevonis, and what he got up to with his woman. Dankyo would know how to handle a woman who wanted what she did.

“Sofia?” Dankyo prompted.

“I’m okay.” She swallowed.

Her pussy clenched. If he touches me…

“Think your bet’s lost,” Sten said drily.

Her whole body throbbed, and her throat tightened. Want, need, and logic spun out of control. She tensed every muscle and fought off the choking fog of desire.

I’m not a thing!

She glared at the cannon. Fuck them.

This is just another puzzle. The way of the cannon’s mechanism slipped into her mind like a well-worn key in a lock. She took a half step sideways, slapped off the safety catches, grasped the handgrips, and was a millisecond away from blowing the little green balloon into smithereens when somebody grabbed her waist and hauled her off.

She wriggled. Four hands were on her. Sten released her and stepped away.

“Jeepers, little lady, don’t do that again. That fuckin’ cannon’s bullets cost me a day’s income if you shoot off a whole belt.”

“Language, sir.” Dankyo’s voice rumbled like a load of rocks sliding down a chute. He straightened her tunic. Her mind was in disarray. Thoughts tumbled. She stared down at herself. See-through. Sprays of yellow daisies all through the cloth. Pretty. She let Dankyo handle her like some doll. She trembled.

Forget he’s holding you. Damn damn damn. But she couldn’t stop thinking of how wet she was between her legs. Of his fingers at her waist and how he warmed her. And the longer he touched her, the wetter she became.

Focus.

Sofia stared at her shaking hands. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sten resumed leaning on the wall. “Just carry on. I guess I upset you earlier. Pay attention to your man. Do your shooting and we’ll all be done sooner than later. Forget our silly bet.”

“Yes. Forget.” Dankyo nudged up her chin with his fingers.

Mmm. The casual touch mesmerized her. She tilted up her head a little more and made herself meet his eyes. His dark brown eyes. Looking at her. Did he see what she felt? God. No. She tensed more, clamping down so she wouldn’t reveal how he affected her.

“Sofia, I don’t know what went wrong there, but I’m…”

She shivered, once, and felt it travel all the way down her body. Damn.

Dankyo stayed silent, but his eyes brightened.

Talk. Answer him.

“It was just nerves,” she said quietly.

He blinked, then nodded. “I see.” He flexed his fingers at her waist, then tightened them again. “I wonder, Sofia, would you call yourself the serious and well-grounded sort of woman?” Hidden meanings seemed to leak from every syllable.

She swallowed. Why do I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff? “I guess.”

“Well answered.” Then he smiled and ran his thumb along her lower lip before settling his hand at her waist. “That’s good. Very, very good.”

The silence pulsed between them, and she couldn’t bring herself to move, or to say anything. Somehow, she knew that her reply had been, all at the same time, both right and so awfully wrong. He left his hands where they were, holding her as if he had all the time in the world to find out precisely how she ticked.

Oh God. No.

“Hey, you two,” Sten interrupted. “I can see you have things to chat about, but I have a ship to run. Can we get this done?”

After that, shooting straight was unlikely. Not until the sixth shot did she manage to hit the balloon. Dankyo soon decided she needed a smaller pistol.

“That’s it, then.” Dankyo holstered the revolver. “Let’s go.”

Sten leaned in as she exited past him. “Told you, you’d miss.”

She shrugged. “You should have let me use the cannon.”

“Ha!” He grinned and thumped the doorjamb. “Saucy little slave you have, man.”

Dankyo twitched both eyebrows upward. “Yes. I know. I think I need to beat her more.”

The heat of a blush swept her face. Oh my. He is joking, isn’t he? Surely that didn’t come with the pretending?

He offered his hand to Sten. “Thank you, sir, for the use of your facility.”

“My pleasure.” They shook hands.

Though Dankyo stepped back, he didn’t turn away, and he hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets.

Sten leaned against the door again and waited.

“I’ve heard rumors about you and your Captain Kaysana.”

“Aha. What rumors?”

“That you were involved in some big problem in Tibet. Something that involved zombies and a lot of people dying. I even heard that you and she were heroes. Maybe stopped some sort of plague?”

“Really? Zombies? You’re joking, right? Zombies?” Sten screwed up his mouth, then shook his head slowly. “We’re a colorful couple, I guess, but nah, just a crazy rumor.”

“I thought you’d say that, but…glad I shook your hand. Honored, in fact.”

“Sure. Sure. Nice to make your acquaintance too.”

With that they parted ways. Sofia followed after Dankyo again, happy she was no longer the focus of his attention. Such a strange conversation back there. She assumed Dankyo had his reasons for it but strange nonetheless.

When they reached their cabin, Dankyo allowed her to enter first, and she ducked around him.

“I’d like to talk to you, Sofia. About what just happened.”

His words were so simple, yet they sent havoc coursing through her. Talk? She wasn’t ready for this.

He’d touched her lips. And she wanted him to touch her elsewhere…everywhere. Yet explaining her reaction might lead to him demanding to know her fantasies, and they were never seeing the light of day. Normal women didn’t want to be held down and raped.

Already her feet led her to the bathroom. Escaping. Yes. She opened the white-painted door. The doorknob was cold on her skin.

“Sofia?”

“I’ll”—she swallowed—“be a moment.”

Inside she sat on the tapestry upholstered armchair, laid her head back until it bumped the wall, and sighed. Damn him.

The door creaked as if someone leaned on it. Her eyelids snapped open. Did I lock it?

“Are you avoiding me, Sofia?”

Clearing the lump from her throat so her voice wasn’t raspy took a few seconds. “No.”

If he asked her what, exactly, she was doing in here, he’d get a nasty reply.

I’m safe in here. Safe.

From what? My own fantasies, or my fears? That was the trouble—her fantasies and fears were all knotted together in one big mess.

“You know, I think I’ll just talk even if you don’t answer.”

What? She frowned, drumming her fingers on one of the arms of the chair. Go ahead. Ramble on. The man was insufferable.

“I enjoyed holding you.”

God. This was getting worse.

“Have you heard of dominance and submission, Sofia?”

Don’t answer! But she sat up and listened.

“The way you reacted to me back at the cannon made me think you liked me holding you. Even liked me holding you very still and under my command. That is how submissives feel. Stop me if I’m bothering you in any of this. If you don’t speak, I’ll keep going. No need to respond if you aren’t comfortable. I understand. I used to be that way. Then I found out that I like being the dominant sexual partner.”

A pause. She kept her breathing controlled and shallow, though it felt as if he was strangling her.

“To a submissive, being held down, perhaps bound with ropes, having their hair pulled, and sometimes even having pain inflicted on them by the dominant, can be arousing—greatly arousing.”

Her eyes were shut. Her thighs were jammed together even though that made her groin seem to simmer with heat down there, right where her clit was. She squirmed a bit on the seat.

Not answering. Not! But not answering might be telling him more than she wanted to? Didn’t matter. Right now she couldn’t speak without sounding like a choked-up idiot. I’m a university-educated woman with my own mind, and I’m not throwing it all away because I want…I want a man to do things to me.

Dankyo had been silent a while. The door creaked again as if he shifted position.

“Let me tell you what I’d do to a submissive, if she’d given me permission to dominate her.”

Ohhh. Damn him. She sneaked her hand to her crotch and gently circled her clit through the panties. Lust uncurled and spread.

“Let’s say I found her standing here in front of me. First I’d make her undress for me. Maybe throw the clothes on the floor. When she was naked, I’d turn her around and make her go to the wall. I’d put her so her body was right up against the wall, then kick her legs apart so I could touch her and see her everywhere.”

Another pause. She’d crept her other hand beneath her top and taken hold of her nipple. Already tingles washed in little waves from her breast to her clit as she rubbed those fingertips around and around the hardening bump.

“Then I’d jam her right against the wall with a hand on her back.” His voice was rougher.

Did he know she touched herself? Though she tried to hold them in, her breaths came quicker, harsher. She pushed her groin up into her hand and found the edge of the panties, then slipped her fingers inside. Wetness met her. The glide of her fingers along her cleft, then onto her clit made her release a little moan.

“I’d slide my hand over her ass and up inside her. Maybe one finger at first.”

Oh God. She did as he described and pushed a finger inside, then arched at the pleasure. Her walls were tight and hot and spasmed down. Her thumb rubbed her clit.

“Then two fingers, then three, until she groaned at me to stop. But I wouldn’t. I’d bite her and keep touching her, rougher, harder. I’d make her wriggle and try to escape. But I wouldn’t let her, because she’d be mine.”

By now she was gasping desperately. Dankyo holding her against that wall. Making her writhe, making her come. Her thumb and fingers rubbed and thrust. From her nipple an electric path blazed and connected. Her body tightened. Her thighs clamped onto her hand.

“I’d keep at her, and I’d not let her go, until I’d pleasured her, over and over.”

With a last straining push up inside herself into the messy wetness and a few rhythmic presses on her clit, her body unraveled. Lust roared through and drowned her. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. Gradually the waves of heat ebbed. Her heart pounded. Her mouth gaped as she struggled for enough air for her heaving lungs. Slowly she collapsed down into the chair with her hand still inside her panties.

How would it be to have Dankyo’s hand in her pussy? She kept her eyes closed and let imagination take her to that time and place where he held her against a wall and did to her what he wanted.

“Think on it, Sofia.” Then he stepped away from the door. When the outer door opened and closed and his footsteps receded, she was certain—he’d known what she’d been doing.

Cleaning up and then composing herself took a long while. She found a boring book and sat down to read. When he returned, she stayed silent and didn’t react. Nothing in his manner betrayed what he’d said to her through that closed door.

She began to think, to hope, she’d been mistaken, because she’d never tell him. If he had a knife at her throat, she would not tell.

Or would she?

* * * *

She didn’t know what to do next.

Passion waited inside her, just there, and she both dreaded and craved that next jolting step. Why did he not dare? Yet he remained aloof. Sometimes, if she mocked his stern manner too much, he’d dismiss whatever she’d said and then simply step closer, and look at her as if he understood what his proximity did to her. She’d feel like shrinking away, her chest squeezing in. But she’d watch him and make herself look back. And he knew that he bothered her. Satisfaction radiated from him. The bastard.

On the day they descended to land outside Byzantium, she’d managed to put her strange reactions aside. She had a job to do. Her sexual madness had passed, even though she remembered every tiny detail of what had happened in the bathroom.

The bow viewing lounge with its three long reinforced windows was crowded with eager passengers. Dankyo had found them a spot at the front and stood behind her, his body up close, his chest pushing at her when he inhaled, and his palms heavy on her shoulders. She’d have protested and stepped away, but there was nowhere to go and no way to do it without seeming strange.

So instead she breathed in and out with little tight movements, watched the scenery go by, and dug her nails into her skin.

Scenery, watch the scenery.

Ahead was the city of Byzantium with the crosses and domes of churches and mosques lacerating the sky, and farther to the right was a slithery silver hint of the Bosporus. Beyond that, just visible on the opposite bank, were some of the taller buildings of the rival Ottoman city. Centuries of off-and-on sieges had left Byzantium with stout metal walls shaping its outskirts, and they shone with gold and silver in the afternoon sun as if they intended to flare into molten incandescence at sundown.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yes. I remember it well.”

She turned her head. “Remember? You’ve seen Byzantium before?”

“When I fled from the Greater Asian Monarchy with other refugees, we came here first. Some stayed. I went on to London and the Brito-Gallic League—where I met Theodore.”

“I see.” She searched his face for emotion but as usual found few clues. “Were you sad to leave here? To leave your friends?”

He shook his head. “I left no friends. Three died crossing the border in the mountains, but that was long before Byzantium. An avalanche.” He grimaced. “Those I regretted leaving, but none here.”

A loudspeaker came on. “Time for disembarkation in twenty minutes. Passengers are advised to have their baggage in order.”

People either side of them moved away, and when only a few were left and Dankyo hadn’t said a word, she made to follow them. He stopped her. His hands tightened on her neck, and he shifted behind her until his lower body pressed into her buttocks.

“Stay.”

She stiffened.

Then he nipped her ear and spoke in a warm, rumbling tenor. His breath carried his words in deep to curl inside her mind and paralyze her with their power.

“This is Byzantium, where slaves do as their Masters bid them. Where no one will know if you surrender yourself to me. Not your friends; not your family.” As he spoke, he slid one hand down her front, following the curve of her breast, then lower, until the flat of his hand rested on her belly. He pulled her back against him, gentle but sure.

“Sofia, will you let me take you to the edge and beyond?”

Poetic words, in their way, and they sent her reeling. She’d held her breath but now had to let it out, shuddering as she did so.

“Sofia?”

He hadn’t moved again, but he didn’t need to. He both scared her and electrified her.

I’ve wanted a man to say this to me my whole life. But not him. Not big, dangerous Dankyo. He breathed quietly behind her. A force of nature waiting for her reply. Yes and no tore around inside her mind until her head seemed made of paper and a storm had caught her up.

Say no! God, say no. She opened her mouth, still unsure, closed her eyes, and licked her lips. Say yes. He’s dangerous but that’s precisely why I want him, I want to feel alive while someone does as he wishes to me. I need this. Such a dirty, naughty, terrible want.

“I…” She shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t know you.” He could do anything. The thrill of that swept her again.

“Ah. Then think some more.” Then he bit again, on the side of her neck above the collar—a possessing bite, and he didn’t release her as he moved his hand farther until his fingers touched her at the top of her legs. Her clit throbbed to life, and her nether lips swelled.

“There’re people,” she rasped, eyes shut while she marveled at the tendrils of lust unfurling from where his hand shifted. Thick, luscious heat rolled up her, seeking out her nipples, her neck, connecting her to him, making it impossible not to arch into his hand. He had her in a hard embrace between his teeth and his hand, and he wasn’t letting go. She moaned, then caught herself and stopped, gasping a little. The first peak of impending orgasm spilled through her, rising higher with the press and press of his hand on her pussy.

He wrapped his arm across under her breasts.

“There’s no one except one man watching, and to him, you’re a slave. I think you enthrall him. He’s watching you become aroused, watching your body respond. As am I.”

She let out another gasp and rocked into him.

Then he stilled and drew back, only supporting her as she panted. She ached so much.

“There.” He kissed her neck where he’d bitten. “A little of what I would do to you. Think on it. I expect an answer tomorrow. I expect a yes. Do you hear me, Sofia?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, because she couldn’t bear to. Her body said yes. Her mind whispered the same, surfacing from the places of her dreams to tell her she was mad to resist. Give in. Let him. Find out if you want this.

But what if he hurts me? The most frightening thing was, she almost wanted him to. She wanted him to do…anything.

At last she summoned her voice. “I will think.” Then added, shaking a little, “I may not say yes.”

“You will.” He ran his hand up into her hair and tugged. “You will, because now I know that you want this. If you’d said a straight no, I would still have wondered, but saying, maybe”—he dragged her head back until she blinked up into his eyes—“maybe means yes. You’re afraid?”

His brown eyes dissected down to her soul. Though her throat had seized up, she squeezed out the words. “Yes. I am.”

Then he smiled. “Tomorrow, then, I will have your answer.”

The world shrank in and waited. He still gripped her hair and gave it a small jiggle as if to make more words spill out. She stood there, head tilted back, drowning, lost in the sea of helplessness that washed over her. He was right. She would say yes, because really, that was all she could do.

Chapter Five

Everything had changed. By showing his intent, Dankyo had jumped from possibly dangerous to being a man she didn’t want to turn her back on. Yes, he made her quiver. Yes, she wanted to see what he would do to her, desperately. But away from his physical control she knew, plain knew, this was bad for her.

I have a mind, but he’s only seeing me as a conquest. I don’t want that. Grow a spine.

So she subtly dodged around him when they gathered belongings, then departed the airship. Most of the other passengers had found transport and were driving away already. An articulated red bus with the logo of a hotel emblazoned on the side was one of the last vehicles to go. SEE THE HAGIA. TOUR THE BAZAAR, was written on the side. The walls of Byzantium looked to be at least two miles away. The shadows were long; the day was drawing to a close.

“Sir! Sir!” A bearded youth clutching the reins of a string of horses and mules beckoned to them and two businessmen in bowler hats and black suits. “Top quality mounts!”

“We’ve missed the taxis and buses.” Feet planted as if he expected an earthquake at any minute, Dankyo motioned Sofia forward.

A horse? “I can’t ride.” The nearest one had big teeth. To her relief, the businessmen hustled forward and claimed the horses first.

As he strapped luggage onto his mules, the youth signaled and grinned to Dankyo. “Don’t worry! I will return in an hour!”

“An hour?” Dankyo glanced at her. “Perhaps I should have resisted your charms.”

She couldn’t stop herself. After how Dankyo’d handled her back there on the airship, she had to show she wasn’t a wilting flower. “So now we wait in the dark because you couldn’t control your urges.”

He drew a pair of black leather gloves from his coat pocket and pulled them on, settling each finger in place, then took out binoculars and sighted through them toward the city. “Hmm. Haste makes good targets.” He clicked the large central wheel of the binoculars as if focusing. “Sofia, I see you have revived. I thought you were afraid of me?”

He dropped the binoculars in his pocket and stepped closer to her.

The question brought their recent dalliance in the ship back fresh to her mind. “I’m not. That was an aberration.” She held her ground, seething a little, shrinking a little, trying not to drop her gaze. Meeting his eyes was getting harder.

“No? You’ve already given me power over you while we are in Byzantium.”

“Only in public. And only so that I can do my job.”

“What are you afraid of then? Kneel.” He gave her the palm-down signal.

If her eyes hadn’t flared red-hot, they should have. Damn him. She wouldn’t do this just to please him. “Learn to trust me.” He smiled. “There’s a limousine coming.”

Past his shoulder, she glimpsed the oncoming dust cloud and the glint of gold metal. He signaled to her again as it rolled closer. She sank to her knees.

“Better.” Casually, he patted her head. When she glared back beneath her eyebrows, he shook his head. “Angry? You know, I like seeing that. Angry means you haven’t given in.” He fished inside his coat. “Giving in means you have no fire. Fire to me says passion. And passion, now that is—”

Two vehicles approached. The first was a pale blue half-track truck with MAINTENANCE written in Greek along the side. The doors slammed open. Five large men in overalls spilled out. Carrying clinking packs, they ambled to the ramp, exchanging crude jokes in Ottoman. Curiosity spiked, and she observed them out the corners of her eyes. This was the first time she’d heard the language spoken outside the university.

Next, the limousine pulled up beside the truck—a long gold-and-white vehicle with four steam funnels curling off the back like misplaced horns. Each window bore a frosted-glass logo—an engraving of a saint’s head with a halo. The driver’s door opened, and a gray-clad chauffeur stepped out and smoothly swung out the passenger door.

“Sir? Dankyo of House Kevonis? Emperor-Bey Constantin XXV sends his regards and summons you to court.”

“Thank you.” Dankyo nodded to him. Then he turned to Sofia and let a silver chain unfurl, clinking, from his hand. The clip at the end opened at the press of his thumb. “Present your neck.”

Her stomach dropped. No. He didn’t mean this. But he clearly did and merely waited quietly. Bastard. She leaned forward and extended her neck. The snick as the chain clicked shut and the jingle of the chain affirmed he’d leashed her.

“Come, Sofia. Crawl to the car.”

Calm. You can do this. Why, though, why is he doing this to me? It seemed unnecessary, humiliating, and silly.

Two yards and an eternity of wondering if they were staring at her butt, while going ouch at the rocks poking her knees, and then she climbed into the dark interior of the limousine. Floor or seat? Reluctantly she chose to be careful and knelt on the floor.

“Well done.” Dankyo settled onto the cream leather seat.

With a subtle tap of his hat, the driver saluted. “Sir. The passenger section is private and soundproof. If you need to speak to me, the speakerphone is there. I’ll go load your cases.” He shut the door, busied himself at the trunk, then slipped behind the wheel.

A memory flicked across her thoughts. Something about the maintenance men irked her, but then the thought zipped away. Things like that had a habit of annoying her again. Her subconscious never played fair, but the thought would come to her if she waited.

As they drove over rocks, the tires crackled before falling quiet on the asphalt. Dankyo put his hand on her head and left it there a moment.

As a hint, she eyed the seat and the blue velvet cushions, then raised her eyebrows.

“You know”—he leaned in to whisper to her—“you’re asking permission. That is good. Now show me some fire again.”

He was telling her to get angry? Could the driver hear if she shouted? Almost ready to burst out with a swear word, she sucked on her bottom lip instead.

“I see the cat has got your tongue. Come, sit beside me. Let’s talk. Whisper in my ear.”

Sedately, she sat next to him. A thick glass divider separated them from the front. Outside the window, green trees whizzed past.

Talk? Boy, did she have something to say to him. “Why did you make me crawl?”

He said nothing.

“You have to answer this. Can’t you see that I need to know? Okay, so I have to obey you in public, but I’ve agreed to nothing else. You did it to get me unhappy with you?” Now she’d started, her thoughts ran onto her tongue without anything filtering between them. She was angry. “What do you mean, fire and passion? If you get me deliberately angry and I do something wrong in public, that’s not just my fault, it’s yours too! Where’s all this we must be careful or others will get hurt?” She stopped, panting, finally out of words, yet still brimming with confusion. “Why?” She slumped back on the seat.

Dankyo had turned to face her properly, and though he’d still said nothing, a small line creased his forehead. Slowly, he exhaled through his nose. “You’re right.”

“What? Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are?” Oh my God. “Then why’d you make me crawl?”

One eyebrow tilted; then he sat forward and said conspiratorially, “Because I wanted to see you fire up. And because I wanted to watch your ass.” A smile broke across his lips.

“Oh. Damn you. Don’t smile! Do not smile.” She frowned. How dare he want to see my butt, yet hell, that’s so sexy—knowing he looked.

“I lost control, and I never do that. We do have to be careful in public. However, I won’t guarantee not to look at your ass, especially in private.” A challenging glitter sparked in his eyes.

This was getting too personal. She shook her head. “You do not have permission to look at my ass.”

“Not yet.” His voice dropped even deeper. “Tomorrow you will tell me yes. After that I promise to do far more than look.”

The rumble of the car under her body seemed to drum his words in deep.

God. That again.

She looked aside. “I’m not… I never said—”

A rocket trail fizzed past the window.

An explosion ahead sent fragments rattling onto the metal skin of the vehicle. A tiny frosted star cracked in the front windshield. Flames blossomed, and they shot through a cloud of smoke. The car went by the two businessmen frantically clapping their heels to their horses’ sides to urge them to gallop faster.

Cold dread crackled through her. She watched openmouthed as the men and horses went past, then dwindled in the rear window. “Won’t they…mightn’t they get hurt? Can’t we stop?”

The chain clinked, and she realized Dankyo had freed her from the leash.

“The attackers will be aiming for us, not them.”

“What?” She stared at him and clenched her fingers into the curve of the leather seat. Her heart hammered into overdrive.

Something whirred, and metal shutters clattered down on all sides, darkening the interior even more. The divider slid down, and they could see blue and yellow blinking lights on the dashboard. An unarmored slit along the front windshield left the driver able to see. A periscope sight dropped and unfolded from the ceiling.

“Could sir check for hostiles?” the driver inquired.

“Of course. Armaments on this vehicle?”

“Just a Gatling miniturret linked to the periscope, sir. It pops up on the back section of the roof.”

All the military efficiency left her unsure what to do. Her mind whirled through the terrible possibilities of this attack. Was there something she should be doing?

With the efficiency of ingrained training, Dankyo sighted through the periscope, winding it around in a full circle with a purr of meshing cogwheels. “Just one man on foot heading north by north-west. Half a mile off. Departing the scene. He has a launcher.”

“Thank you, sir.” The driver unhooked a radiophony microphone and reported the finding before hanging up. “A landship patrol will check him out. Nothing to concern oneself about. The zealots never hit anything.”

With Dankyo manning the periscope, she had no one and nothing to hang on to except her own hands. Until they reached the city wall and drove through the enormous set of gates, Sofia sat upright, waiting for something to hit them. When the gates boomed shut behind the car, she sagged back onto the cushions.

* * * *

Safe at last—the zealots might have hopeless aim, but it never hurt to stay alert. His eyes would have circles around them from the periscope’s sight. The window shields slid away, and the internal opaque divider purred up into place. Dankyo relaxed back on the seat, blinked, and gave each socket a last rub before glancing at Sofia.

The woman looked terrified. Though she’d swiftly opened her eyes when he rocked the upholstery with his movements, the paleness about her mouth, and her stiffness betrayed her.

“Sofia. There’s nothing more to be afraid of.” He frowned. What do I do with a scared woman?

“I’m sorry.” She screwed up her mouth. “This is so stupid. I’ve just never been shot at before.”

“Ahh. You get used to it, in a way. Though fear is always there. That is natural.”

“Yes. I suppose.” Then she swallowed and looked fixedly out the window. “Palm trees are everywhere. Almost tropical?”

The talking was to distract him from her fear. Clear as crystal. He’d been in charge of enough soldiers to know. Can’t tell her to shape up or send her off to do field drill.

And he itched to touch her. She hadn’t said yes to him yet—though that other matter was simply mutual sexual attraction. This desire seemed different. He wanted to grab her and hug her until the little shakes in her hands died away. Damn. I’m being stupid. This is just sexual, and I shouldn’t make her think otherwise.

He sighed. “Come here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

Doing was easier than saying. Besides, she was so obstinate, she’d likely say no. He reached out and pulled her into his side, then wrapped his arm about her shoulder. After a few seconds, he patted her. She relaxed into him. Another few seconds, and he began to rock her.

“Stop,” she said in a growly voice. “I’m not a baby.”

“Hmm.” He stopped.

“This is nice, though.” She snuggled in closer, and her next words came out muffled by his coat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her hair smelled like flowers, and he rested his nose near the top of her head, then inhaled softly.

“Are you sniffing my hair?”

He hadn’t been that obvious? “No.”

“Huh. You’re sure?” She wriggled and got more comfortable. “How long have you been with Lord Kevonis?”

“Fifteen years.” He didn’t have to think, knew it automatically.

“And you don’t have a girlfriend, back there?”

“No.” A little piece of serenity settled over him. Sitting with Sofia seemed to match something inside him perfectly, and his prickly state of alertness faded into the background for once.

“What’s my hair smell like?”

“Flowers.” Damn. He stared down at her.

Sofia shook with silent laughter. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. You’re so proper sometimes, and sniffing my hair is odd. Cute, but odd.”

“Odd!” He pinched her butt where it met the seat.

“Ow! Ow, ow! That’s”—she squealed when he did it again, and squirmed frantically—“enough!”

“You are too clever for your own good.” To show he’d forgiven her, he gave her a quick hug. A last suppressed giggle made him grin.

Then her fingers curled up within his, and a strange lump formed in his chest.

“If you’re so afraid at this first small danger, why are you here?”

She didn’t answer.

The car bumped onto some rougher surface, then cruised through a crowd of people of many races and countries. There was a mix of multicolored wraparound tunics, dresses, veils, bare faces, beards, turbans, trousers, and small caps. Byzantines and Ottomans mingled freely here. Faintly, the Greek and Ottoman languages filtered through the glass in the singsong cadence of traders announcing their wares.

Sofia turned her head and peeked up at him with those sea-green eyes. He recalled his first sight of her at the airfield. So attractive, and now she was in his arms. The glossy brown waves of her hair spilled over her back and his coat. At the same time that he wanted to just hold her close and comfort her, his groin stirred.

Concentrate on her words, not her body…and not on how her breasts swelled like soft hills from the yellow silk top.

He’d chosen this garment from a pile at the clothes shop. Taking it off her would be glorious. Making her take it off would be better.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” she asked drily.

“I am now.” He smiled down at her. “Go on.”

“Hmph. You smile a lot more than I thought you would, Mr. Dankyo. Anyway…why am I here? Because I have to be. I don’t think you’ll understand, but this is something I have to do. I can taste this puzzle, I’m so close.” Her eyes lit up, and she lifted her head. “An ancient puzzle that no one can solve. No one! But I can do it. I can!”

“I think I do understand. There are some things in life you simply have to do. I understand that. Like I have been…” By Theo Kevonis’s side for all my adult life—his protector and sometimes confidant. Thank God, Byzantium is temporary. “I do understand.”

For a moment he cruised his gaze along her body and down to her thighs. She did a little wiggle with her legs as if something had made her uncomfortable, and he looked at her face. Their eyes met. Pinkness tinged her cheeks.

Is she blushing? “What are you thinking, little Sofia?”

“Um.” Squirming, she slipped from his arms, then adjusted her clothing. “Nothing. Nothing I’m saying to you anyway. Tell me. Are there many real dangers out there?” She gestured as if the dangers lay just beyond the windows.

Nothing she would say to him? What he wouldn’t give to lay her across his lap and smack her right there and then until she squeaked it out. Having her withhold something from him seemed wrong—tantalizing, and so very wrong.

He kept his arm lying along the top of the seat. If she wanted to get away from him, she had to squeeze up against the opposite door. Though her brow furrowed the tiniest amount, she stayed put. He toyed with a lock of her hair that had strayed across his fingers. If he tugged, he could haul her to him.

“Dangers? Here? That depends on our luck, forethought, and abilities.”

“All that?”

“Yes. The zealots are a minor problem. They’re a group of people who dislike the way the Qu’ran and the Bible fight it out here and yet also intermingle. Some zealots want Christianity. Some are for Islam. Most in the city don’t care for doing anything worse than verbally arguing their point on religion. The dangers are more from the Byzantine court intrigue. The emperor-bey panders to both sides. The Heraklos family wants his throne and are also happy to keep things running the same way as long as they can get hold of the reins.”

She nodded. “I’d heard that. And the Ottoman siege isn’t changing either?”

“No. There’s no indication of new trouble, apart from the assassination a few months ago. Money talks here, as it does anywhere, and business doesn’t want real war. So you’re safe as long as we keep quiet your search for the secret of this tomb.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume there is some power to be gained from the tomb.”

“Yes. My research indicates that. So, if I am careful and we play our roles well, I will be safe?”

So sure of herself all of a sudden? He tweaked the curl of hair.

“Ow!”

“Safe from the Heraklos perhaps, but”—he moved over, cornered her, and took her chin between finger and thumb—“not from me.”

She did nothing. Her chest stopped moving, as if she waited to see what he’d do next.

So he lowered his head, watching her eyes and the dilation of her pupils as he did so, and kissed her sweet plump lips. Her gasp as he touched her mouth and nudged her lips apart made lust surge forth. He used his tongue to open her more, then slowly increased the force until her neck bowed back and she was caught between him and the seat. The curl wound around his finger made a nice anchor. His other hand he placed on her breast to circle the bump of her hardening nipple.

At last he lifted away and studied her. Eyes shut, and her mouth swollen, open, and panting. Her breasts rose and fell delightfully. He couldn’t resist cupping one and stroking his thumb across to feel the heaviness.

“Sofia.” Her name rolled from his tongue like a clear ocean wave—precious and pretty. He’d never thought a name could thrill him so much. “Don’t forget how to say yes.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Hmm? That was cheating,” she said huskily.

The hair sprang from his finger in a coil. He tucked it into the mass of her hair, then rested his head beside hers and spoke. The words came out softly in the intimate space between them, as if they exchanged some secret avowal. “Not cheating. I just wanted to sample the wares before I bought them.”

“Oh! You—”

“Shh.” He put a finger across her bruised lips. “We’re here. At court. Be good.”

Seeing her swallow and compose herself so she could pretend to be his slave was somehow pleasing. He liked her both ways—as a feisty beautiful goddess and as a subservient slave. Strange.

His finger still rested on her lips.

He’d never been interested in doing anything in public with Kirsten despite her pleas, yet with Sofia, especially after seeing how she’d reacted earlier with another man watching, he could imagine himself taking this so much further.

“Answer me this, dear Sofia. Are you the sort of woman who says yes when she means no? Or no when she means yes? This is important, so take your time to answer.” He glided his finger around in a slow, serpentine movement that brushed her lip, then her chin only to return again. She half closed her eyes.

The engine of the limousine had switched off, but the driver would wait until Dankyo signaled.

“No. Yes means yes. No means no.”

When her tongue tip darted from between her lips, he brushed it and felt the moisture cool on his skin.

“Good.” Then he slowly moved his finger downward, trailing over her throat, then lightly across the cloth around both nipples, and down farther to traverse her belly button and trace a circle around and around the edge of it while he watched her face. Only whisper-fine silk separated his fingertip from her bare flesh.

When he went to go lower, she grasped his wrist and said firmly. “No. Please.”

There was lust yet also determination in her gaze.

He took away his hand and pulled her clothes into place. “Time to meet the emperor-bey.” He’d let her have this extra day to think. To ache. She would be dying for release after that.

He’d always liked hunting, and Sofia was the most delicious prey he’d ever sought.

Chapter Six

Her blood was still knocking rapidly in her veins when she stepped out after Dankyo. One advantage of playing the slave was the view of his back. Big, broad, sexy. The way he’d looked at her in the car from inches away…after he’d kissed her. Her lips remembered how that had been. Dankyo of House Kevonis wanted her.

Little me—who’s never done anything more exciting than study too late at the university library. Half of her was ready to dissolve at his feet. The other half was appalled that she’d even think it. Bad, scandalous, maybe even promiscuous, were all labels that might fit.

This is not the path I planned. Father, and her brothers, Louis and Hector, would be disgusted. Her brothers liked to pretend the same outrage as her father. It was hard being the eldest girl, especially when all the men in the house thought you should be either making money being yet another shopkeeper, or married to someone solid.

Was Dankyo solid? Perhaps, on the outside, but even her pretending to be his slave would give her father a heart attack. Not that she cared what he thought anymore. Being told your father has washed his hands of you tended to do that. Galling, but she’d tucked it away, and it no longer hurt like it had once.

A stray thought popped into her head, and she almost smiled. Mother would wink and ask what Dankyo looked like naked.

“Come.” He motioned her forward.

The limousine had been drawn up beneath a broad roof big enough for a train station. Guards were everywhere in their antiquated but eye-catching chain mail and leather. Teamed with modern firearms, it made for a quaint look. Another group of people were ahead and being allowed through the double timber doors set into the wall of stone. A guard near them unslung his FREN rifle. She admired it. The gun would look good on the wall of her dorm room along with her Bedouin musket and sword.

Her subconscious poked out its nose and jolted her. The men, the maintenance men—the miniscule bulges under the overalls, the glimpse of shapes within the bags—the outlines came together in her mind like a jigsaw floating into being. Weapons. Her attention snapped back to Dankyo.

“Wait. Wait!”

He half turned. “What? You look pale.”

“Please believe this.” She talked staring at the ground, hoping no one thought she was being forward for a slave. “I have this…this thing I do. I solve puzzles. I see things others don’t, and they fit together in my head.”

He grunted. “Yes, I gathered this. Go on.”

“The maintenance men, at the airship, they were carrying weapons. Lots and lots.” When he looked skeptical, she bit her lip but then hurried on. “Please. I know this. Do you think it means something bad?”

She watched him from beneath her brow.

Nothing of Dankyo moved as he studied her for a long while. “Yes. If true, then yes. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t know.” Helpless to explain further, she pleaded with her eyes.

“Okay.”

He swiveled on his heel, went to the nearest guard, and had a terse conversation. The guard hurried away, and Dankyo returned to her. He shielded her with his body and spoke quietly.

“There’s too many people close, so listen but don’t reply. I’ve done what I could. They’ll send out some soldiers to check. From what I saw of Sten, if they were enemies, he’ll stand a good chance of besting them. Now, put this out of your mind.” He flexed his knees and bent down to whisper even softer. “I need you totally steady. When I hear more, I’ll say. Okay?” He looked in her eyes.

Forget what might be happening to those on the airship? To Sten, when he seemed so nice? Hard to do. Yet an idea hammered at her—Dankyo trusted her? Not many would have paid attention to her flimsy facts. Her heart seemed glow with warmth. She nodded and smiled.

“Good. You’re next. They want to put you to the sniff test.” Dankyo twitched his eyebrows upward. “Stand still.”

The what test?

A guard led forward a rotund clockwork creature like an anteater made from metal and wood. The creature unrolled its segmented nose and probed her all over, sniffing loudly as it went, sometimes suctioning the fine material to its snout. She jumped when it ventured too close to her crotch, and the guard chuckled.

“A sensitive one,” he said in Greek. But he called back the clockwork sniffer. “Done. Not many places to hide weapons and poisons on her, is there, sir? You’re clear.”

A distant series of booms made Sofia flinch again. The guard looked upward, then shrugged. “The Tuesday propaganda bombardment. You’ll get used to it. We’ll be scrubbing walls and stomping the clockies tomorrow. You may go.”

“Thank you.” Dankyo strolled on.

The palace of the emperor-bey was a maze of buildings and open gardens, promenades and water areas. Successive terraces led onward and upward. By the time they reached the portico of the Decagon, with the curved dome above and ochre walls below, Sofia was thirsty and tired, her feet were aching, and a fleet of ravenous bugs were whining about her ears. The orange sun at their backs was split by the horizon.

A soft-faced, plushly dressed vizier, a man with a voltaic trumpet, and a bevy of guards followed them into the foyer of the audience chamber. Here they were announced, examined again for armaments, and finally chivied between double gold doors. Another party, all men in Ottoman dress, arrived in the foyer as they left it.

At the end of the opulent room, past a double array of guards, was the Emperor-Bey Constantin XXV. He sat on his throne dressed in white silks and a gold brocade coat. A boy servant beckoned them and announced Dankyo. Being supposed a slave, she was ignored.

The trumpet blared as they approached the emperor-bey. Lean and alert in appearance, his black curls framed a smooth, pale face seemingly unmarked by more than twenty-five years—except she knew he was nineteen. Being the emperor-bey had taken its toll.

With Dankyo, she knelt, listening as he spoke.

“Your Serenity.”

“Dankyo of House Kevonis, you are welcome in my country.” While he spoke, the chamber was clearing of people. All methodically filed out save for the emperor-bey, the vizier, and two nearby guards—one man, one woman. Both guards were in immaculate polished armor, helmet, mail, and black leather with the saint and halo logo engraved on their breastplates.

When the room was settled again, the emperor-bey waved at Sofia and Dankyo. “Pray, have some wine and honeyed pastries. These are trusted people. There is no need for pretense here, Miss White.” Then he added, chuckling softly, while his gaze drifted from one of them to the other. “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the flies. I love your jokes. I give you leave to speak freely in my presence.”

Sofia noted they weren’t given leave to rise. But eating and sipping wine while on her knees gave her feet a rest, and she happily munched on a pastry and drank as Dankyo gave thanks for their invitation and a million other boring things.

“Of course,” the emperor-bey said abruptly. “Your thanks are accepted. Though I no longer need you to help organize the palace security or to find traitors. In compensation for your travels I will allow you to assist your countryman, Henry, in his delivery of arms for my soldiers. I believe he is being well paid by your government. The other matter—Miss White, would you like to see the tomb?”

She gulped a mouthful of pastry and set her glass aside. “Yes, Your Serenity.” Her sore muscles revived at the thought of finally seeing the tomb.

“Then tomorrow you shall do so. May I say how surprised I am, Miss White, at your appearance. Your beauty astonishes me. Dressed as you are, there can be no mistake. Your hand.” He smiled and reached toward her.

Is he flirting? My hand? Oh. She offered the back of her hand, and he drew it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“But first, you and Dankyo have a dinner to attend tonight at the house of Dimitri Heraklos. You must establish yourself as being, to their suspicious eyes and ears, a true slave before I will risk allowing you to enter the harem. My vizier will direct you to a place of refreshment so you may both bathe and make ready.

“I dismiss you.” He clapped his hands, and servants ran into the room from somewhere behind the throne area. Seconds later, the double doors opened, and the guards and other attendants returned, silent except for the scuffing of their shoes on the tiled floor.

What? They were going to a public dinner with his enemies? Now? Tonight? A whole field of butterflies swarmed, fluttering frantically, into her stomach.

Without a single protest, Dankyo bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Serenity.”

Even as she too bowed, thoughts scampered screaming through her mind. But, but, but… Stop. No!

Yet there was nothing she could do. When an emperor said do this, you did. Maybe her head wouldn’t roll, but clearly she’d never get into the tomb if she refused.

She had to pretend to be Dankyo’s slave in front of the emperor-bey’s direst enemies. Being this up close and personal with them was not on her plan for Byzantium. She rarely swore, but now seemed a great time for it.

She sighed and let her shoulders droop. How hard can this be? I’ll just be very humble. I can do that, can’t I?

As long as they didn’t make her kiss Dankyo’s feet, she could do this.

Ugh. Note to self. Make sure he cleans his feet really, really well.

As they were escorted away, Sofia heard the emperor-bey speak. “Bring Helena and Josephine to the Octagon bedchamber. I have need of their ministrations.”

Whether the ministrations were what she thought or not, another thought bothered her far more than the emperor-bey indulging in hanky panky with two women straight after he’d kissed her hand. Tomorrow she would be alone in the middle of this labyrinthine place.

Grow a spine. Half the parties at University are more dangerous than this place. The emperor-bey will forget you two minutes after you leave his sight. And he probably needs a servant to wipe his bottom and blow his nose.

Besides, everything about Byzantium seemed to zing straight into her blood and pump her awareness to the highest level. With Dankyo and his dark, enticing promises, with the vibrant colors, with the tropical lushness, the clash of armed men, war and weapons, and all that mingled with religious fervor. For a second she shut her eyes and just…breathed. Byzantium was alive like nowhere else she had ever been. She needed to be here. Somewhere in Byzantium was the path to her future.

Dankyo took her by the elbow, and she saw a boy in servant garb hurrying away.

The hard look in Dankyo’s eyes softened, and he seemed to run through something in his head before he spoke. “Sofia, thank you. The men at the airship tried to take over the Princess Kay by force. There was a fight, but they were all killed. All is good.”

“All? No one else was hurt?”

“No. From what Sten told me, he’s a well-trained fighter, and the rest of the crew is ex-military too.” He rubbed her elbow gently with his thumb. “I’m impressed. Later, you will say how you do this.”

“Sure. I guess. I can try.”

“Thank you.”

She shook her head at this sudden kindness and went to follow him down the corridor. Time to get dressed and be a slave for a night. Even that had her buzzing. And she knew why, she knew exactly why. And his name started with D.

Chapter Seven

She’d expected a room that she would have to share with Dankyo, but instead they were directed to two separate rooms. When she stepped into hers, the door clicked shut behind her, and she faced four women and a submerged bath filled with steaming water. Bearing staid expressions, the women came toward her.

“Hold on.” She held out both palms. “Wait.”

It made no difference of course, and a half hour later she’d been washed, primped, and manicured. She now stood naked and glowing with warmth from the bath, and before her the women held up the clothes she must wear.

Oh. Hell.

The ruby-accented pantaloons were to be expected. As was the tunic of silken cloth, shaded from wine red to palest pink, that flared at the hips into a soft hoop with a strange tinkling assortment of little silver chains. What wasn’t expected…

Sofia gaped. “No.”

Fifteen minutes later they delivered her to the adjacent room where Dankyo waited, dressed suavely in a moon-silvered gray suit with a high collar.

She colored just thinking of what she wore but stood her ground. The women, giggling, retreated from the room and left her standing alone. I can do this.

Yes.

Except her nipples reminded her of how they were strung up on and gripped by the devilish silver spirals of wire with those feathery wisps of fabric woven onto the wire. The tunic had a neckline that was really a breast line for it cupped her just beneath her breasts and left those precious assets utterly uncovered. Her nipples poked up even perkier just remembering the woman applying the silver wires.

Whenever she moved, the wisps of cloth floated and drifted and tugged at her. It was disconcerting, especially when Dankyo leisurely examined her, walking around her. She turned to follow.

“No. Stay there, Sofia.”

“Uh.” The idea of obeying, just for a second, made her slow, and he smiled.

“Stay.”

Inexplicably, she did. This was his power, and she knew it. She wanted, needed, to obey. Those images she’d always had, of going to her knees before a man, returned full force. Sharp enough to keep her still and to send a tingle to the moistening center between her legs.

“Good, Sofia.” How she adored the sound of her name coming from his mouth. “You know, you are so lovely, and I can’t appreciate you properly unless I see all of you. From here.” Briefly, he placed his palm on her buttock, then walked farther to come full circle. “To here.”

This time he only gestured at her front. Her breasts lit up with warmth. She swayed. Her ass remembered the line of every one of his fingers as they’d lain upon her flesh.

I let him touch me. Wake yourself. I’m still deciding…aren’t I?

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. She repeated that in her head all the way through the Decagon palace, as a passenger in the little chugging steam cart and then in a new limousine—all the way to the walled-in palace of the Heraklos family. Minarets pointed skyward at the four corners of the main building. As she trailed behind Dankyo up the terracotta steps to the front entrance, she muttered prayers. She was so confused.

“What are you saying?” Dankyo asked quietly without turning around.

The thought of answering with the truth terrified her. If he interrogated her, she would have to face herself.

When she didn’t answer, he stopped and looked at her.

Caught with one foot on a higher step and one lower, she felt singled out, targeted. Again her body responded. Her lips parted as she strove to think of an answer that made sense yet didn’t betray her. A breeze sifted across, making the cloth attached to her nipples flail at her gently and rattling leaves on the nearby trees.

“Well?” He put his hand to her face and caressed her.

Shaken, on the verge of answering, she was saved by a summons from a steward above.

“Sir! The party begins. You must enter now or be locked out.”

“Later, then. I will ask again.” His eyes held the promise. “Perhaps tomorrow has come early?”

She shook her head, but he only smiled grimly. “Don’t lie to me, Sofia. Never ever lie.”

Oh God.

Numb with fear and some emotion she couldn’t understand, she followed him.

They were led along a wide corridor furnished with low chairs and tables, then through a keyhole arch into a large squarish room. Anxiety clamped down onto her stomach. Rather than a single central table, people were gathered about low knee-high ones.

With her gaze at Dankyo’s feet, things flashed into sight and caught her eye before something else intrigued her—damask cloth and the brilliant sheen of embroidered cushions, the silver of pouring jugs and platters, lemon scent and sweet smoke and roast meats. The eyes staring at her were made up with kohl, and the mouths below with poppy red. The tinkle of teacups and spoons and forks. The gentle moans of the aroused.

The people.

She stumbled.

Barely clothed men and women at the feet of their owners. Some naked. Bare breasts were being fondled. Men ate while their slaves did all manner of duties—feeding them or holding their plates or massaging their feet.

“Here, sir. Food is being served. Enjoy.” The servant left.

“Sofia.” Dankyo took her elbow and gently tugged. “Sit, or you will be noticed.”

“Oh.” Afraid someone might grab her and force her to participate in what might easily become an orgy, she sank to her knees and sat back on her heels.

Dankyo was on the divan. With his hand on her upper arm, he pulled her to him, then closed his hand on the back of her neck. “Listen to me before the servants return. There is nothing to be concerned over. You are with me. No harm will come to you.”

At the touch and his voice, she became a little calmer. She wasn’t alone. But dozens of questions still trampled through her thoughts.

As food arrived and they were left to themselves, she relaxed. Sometimes men glanced at her, but none ventured over. Her clothes were demure compared to utter nakedness—though her nipples ached from the sensations constantly buffeting them. For a while Dankyo ignored her and merely asked her to hold the platter up where he could reach. To her, right now, being ignored was bliss. Her heart rate descended. It seemed this was a dinner where simply attending was enough. Good.

From out the corner of her eyes, she cataloged the people and was surprised to see two of the emperor-bey’s personal guards attending the vizier who had escorted them at the palace. The female guard, at the least, was the same also. Though the guard wore a helmet that covered her eyes, Sofia recalled the thin scar across her mouth.

When only a small portion of the food remained on the platter, Dankyo speared a piece of spiced meat on his fork and put it to her lips. He smiled at her hesitation.

“Eat, Sofia. Some Masters enjoy feeding their slaves.”

Hunger made her stomach gurgle. She opened her mouth and took the morsel.

Dankyo fed her the rest of the meal, then gave her iced wine before allowing her some of the dessert. Men visited them, greeted Dankyo, and left after exchanging a few words. If this was a slave’s lot, she could tolerate it.

Quietly, and gradually, the atmosphere changed. Some of the men began using their slaves in sexual ways. She tried not to look, but curiosity enticed her. Most fascinating was a young redhead lying on a divan, attending to her Master who stood before her. While she fondled his cock, his fingers were pumping inside her cunt. With a shudder and loud moan, the woman came. Her Master chuckled, then took charge of her head, thrusting deep inside her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Sofia whispered. She’d never watched another couple make love.

“Sofia?” Dankyo bent and said softly, “Your nipples are standing up more than they have all night.”

Instinctively, she raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“No. Don’t move.”

What? She looked at him, and he shook his head. Ah. Of course. Slaves did not cover themselves. Blushing furiously, she put her hands on her thighs.

“Very good.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I will only look, not touch. I like the appearance of those wires on you.”

She caught her lip in her teeth. Sitting as she was on her heels, with her breasts outthrust, she couldn’t stop imagining him doing something to her—licking her nipples, and sucking them into his mouth. The room became just her and him. With his trouser-covered knee inches away, the temptation to put her head down and rest her cheek on him seized her. She so wanted to put her nose to the fabric and inhale.

She squeezed shut her eyes a second. What is this? Silly. Am I such a besotted wretch?

The harem pants were diaphanous. Were they transparent enough for him to see the moisture leaking between her legs? Concealing herself seemed a good idea, but when she shifted her legs to close them, he reached down and placed a hand on her thigh.

“I said, don’t move.”

Anger flared. He was playing with her. He knew she couldn’t deny him here. Yet that knowledge fuelled her arousal. Her pussy clenched, sending a delicious message running up her body.

Teasing back might be unwise, but she moved her legs even wider, then licked her lips with her wet tongue tip. He wouldn’t touch her. Dankyo was too well-mannered, too in control. Perhaps it was she who had him at her mercy? Dare I do more?

Pulse quickening with apprehension, she did a little movement this way and that way so her breasts bounced enough to attract attention.

Elbow on knee, he came close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Beware, young lady. I have limits. Move again, and I will make you touch yourself.”

Frozen, she fumbled to decide if he was genuine or not. If he commanded her out loud, she would have to obey. Sure her eyes were wide with worry, she stayed still. And the fact that she did, and that he’d made her, somehow went round in a circle and put a noose around her chest, made her breathe stiffly. As surely as if he had touched her, his words aroused her. Below, her clit was hard and protruding.

Why do I like this? Why? For several minutes they looked at each other. Her stock-still, him with his hands splayed on his wide thighs. He blinked at times. He studied her. She studied him until the very air on her skin energized. Her awareness expanded; her body waited…for something.

The tromp of armored men shook the wooden floor. Metal jingled and leather creaked. Voices were raised, though not in anger, but in command.

It woke her. As if she’d been hypnotized, her heart kicked back into action and thudded up to normal speed. Her eyes seemed dry from not shutting them enough. One deep breath and she turned to see what the fuss was about. Dankyo caught her chin.

“Don’t look. It’s janissaries.” He lifted his head as if to watch what was happening behind her.

Janissaries? She knew of them. The original janissaries were trained as soldiers by the Ottomans from the children of captives. As centuries passed and the siege of Byzantium grew old, the customs of the two facing cities had intermingled. There were churches across the Bosporus, and mosques and minarets here, and janissaries too. Many, she knew, had reached high office in the Byzantine government.

“Sofia, it appears you may be a little discomforted. There’s a regulation regarding slaves here that someone has decided to police. You will have exemption, I’m sure, but it may take some debate to convince them.”

To convince the janissaries? These men were renowned for their fanatical devotion to rules. Whatever did Dankyo mean by discomfort?

“Present her.” The rough order was stated by a man behind her.

“You may look,” Dankyo said. “So that it won’t surprise you.”

A woman squeaked, and cloth rustled.

At the sight of the slave lying half naked and legs spread on a cleared table, Sofia tensed.

Oh-oh. Not good. This is not a friendly game of doctors and nurses.

The girl’s Master placed a hand on her abdomen. “See. It is all in order.”

The man peering at her crotch adjusted his spectacles, then rubbed his beard. “Yes. Let it be recorded as so.” His blue robe nearly swept the floor. Tucked into the cloth wrapped about his waist was a small curved knife. Beyond him, and a few yards back, were three armored soldiers. And past them, she glimpsed the female guard of the emperor-bey as she paced a step closer and stared.

They turned to her. All her blood rushed somewhere else. On her knees with men staring down at her, make that three with Dankyo, and they had some sort of inspection in mind.

“Present the slave,” snapped the janissary.

Dankyo stood. The bulk of him unfolding next to her both reassured and frightened her. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Don’t annoy this official, please.

Clearly there was some rule to do with slaves, and they expected her to qualify.

“I am not from Byzantium and am merely visiting with my slave. She does not have the clitoral ring as do your slaves.”

Cold dread danced down her spine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they intended.

“Ah. I see.” The janissary frowned while tugging at his beard. “I understand, but you must go through the correct procedures. First the inspection. Then the form will be reported, and thence and thereafter you may ask for your slave to be excused. Yes?” He sneaked his eyebrows upward as if asking, but already he gestured at her. “I see she is collared at the neck, so that will be recorded. The table is best. Have her lie back. I may not handle your slave, so you will please arrange her body.”

Desperate to see some way out, she shot a look at Dankyo.

He shrugged. “She will do this. Then it will be over, and you may go your way.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you for being reasonable. First, though.” He handed a clipboard over. “Fill in the details, names and so on.”

As Dankyo scribbled details on the form, she fought off a rising tide of panic.

Oh God. My clitoris? They want to look at that? Stay calm. Ride the wave of serenity or something. Calm, calm, calm.

If she found out later that she could have avoided this, she would do something dreadfully fatal to Dankyo.

Having handed back the form, Dankyo sat on the divan once more, then said coldly, “Lie back.”

His tone speared panic into her middle until she remembered they were pretending. He couldn’t reassure her, not properly. Couldn’t be seen to be other than her Master.

Have I fallen into some hole that leads to hell?

The table had been cleared and cleaned long ago. Feeling like the next meal for a pack of wolves, she lay back on it, then realized she had to take off her harem pants for them to see whatever it was they had to inspect. Her face heating with a raging blush, she made to wriggle off her pants, but Dankyo flattened his hand on her stomach.

“Let me help.” He placed a finger on her forehead to make her stay prone, then waited, searching her face. “Are you ready?”

The others vanished from her sight. Not wolves, just one man, Dankyo, a man who desired her. Everything would be fine. If she trusted him. If.

In that moment, she understood, this had become so much more than his surface question. She slowly nodded.

Then he reached under the jingling silver chains at her waist to roll down her pants. His fingers brushed her bare skin, sketching in wisps of lust that writhed deep. He touched her again as he skimmed the cloth over the curve of her ass and down the front contour of her thighs. His sharp fingernail grazed her inner thigh. The scoring between her legs set her throbbing. She moistened. Such a primitive reaction to a man’s skin on a woman’s. Her lips down there engorged.

She watched him and wondered if a Master should do this—help his slave undress. The others, she refused to let them disturb this moment. She didn’t see them, only him. She drew up her knees to show how she lacked the metal ring. When Dankyo asked, she parted her pubic hair to expose her most private parts.

She never let her eyes stray from looking into his.

When they left after marking down the facts, she barely noticed.

To her, it had been a revelation. Having Dankyo care for her in this way elevated him from just a man to her lover. His careful way with her body had woven some magic spell. She stayed on her back, waiting.

Dankyo again placed his hand on her naked stomach, pressing lightly, then murmured, “Sofia, tell me. Tonight, are you mine to do with as I wish?”

Her toes curled. Her heart thudded. His eyes were dark.

“Yes.”

Chapter Eight

The sight of Sofia lying before him, mostly naked, on her back on the table, waiting for whatever he might choose to do… God help him, it was a heady sensation. Kirsten had been totally different. They’d never found common ground. The few others since then had not meant anything to him. He’d never had a woman truly offer herself up to him. This was not something he would rush.

But he didn’t mind how long it took him to discover where he and Sofia’s needs and wants intersected. Not at all. The journey would be as worthwhile as the destination.

As she breathed, her belly pushed at his palm where he held it flat against her soft skin. Sofia was delicious. A woman waiting for his decision. And her secrets waited also. The subtle yet full curve of her upper thighs led his gaze up to where they met, to her dark triangle, to the hint of a split where her sex was partly concealed from him by the way she half closed her legs.

He placed his other hand on top of one thigh, letting his fingers drape into the inner curve. Her breathing quickened.

“I like that you don’t speak, Sofia. It lets us both savor this.”

Blinking her lids over those wonderful green eyes, she nodded.

Could it be that exposing herself aroused her? When she slightly closed her thighs together, he stopped her.

“No. Leave them.”

The little freeze in her movements and expression made him wonder. But her mouth opened more, and then she let out a long tremulous sigh. He moved his hand up her thigh, over the taut muscle, feeling her flex and relax, flex and relax. When his fingertips were an inch from her slit, he found her moisture and halted. She strained a fraction upward. He firmed his grip. Ahh. She did like it.

“You’re causing quite a stir. Don’t look.” Quickly he lifted his hand from her stomach and V’d it under her jaw. One hand gripped her there, the other wrapped over her thigh and almost on her pussy. She shuddered.

Damn. His cock quivered too.

“Byzantine women remove their pubic hair. So you are different. They look and watch you because of that and because of your beauty.”

Even just this, holding her down, was enough to keep his cock standing at rock-hard attention. Nothing he’d done with Kirsten could compare. Nothing.

How far would she let him go? No. How far would he go? She’d said yes. But…

He pitched his voice low, so no one else could hear.

“You said you’re a woman where yes means yes and no means no. From now on, I trust you to keep to that. But you must trust me not to hurt you. Yes?”

She nodded.

“Or not to hurt you any more than you deserve. Or need. And when I say deserve, I mean I intend to reinforce my decisions with pain if I have to, or want to. I expect you to obey when we are like this. When we are playing. Disobedience leads to punishment. Agreed?”

He concentrated on her face. This was so crucial. She seemed to like what he wanted to do to her. Him in command, and her surrendering. But perhaps not. Perhaps not. He knew that without this, their relationship would be hollow. This, he needed, absolutely.

She stayed silent, then swallowed a few times and shut her eyes. Under his hands he felt her shift as if testing his grip.

“Sofia? If you refuse, I am still your protector. Whoever falls under my protection is precious. They are my responsibility, and I move heaven and earth to keep them safe. This does not change that.” He shifted closer and said quietly, “But this will mean that you are mine, in all other ways.”

Those green eyes opened, and she stared up at him, then spoke so softly he had to lean in farther. “I like you…like this. In charge of me. Yes, tonight only. I have…fantasies, but I don’t know… I’ve never really done anything like this.”

“Shh. I understand.” He flicked a glance around the room. Men and women were watching, but only to see what happened. None could have heard. He’d never done much in public. But Sofia—somehow all his instincts called him to display her. He could play this by ear. See where it led.

Some of the other women were restrained with their hands behind their backs while their Masters toyed with them.

“I—” He’d almost told her what he was planning. But no. “Put your hands here.” He released her neck and patted her tummy, then raised his hand and clicked his fingers.

A servant arrived quickly.

“Do you have ankle and wrist restraints and some rope I could use?”

“Of course, sir.”

Within minutes he had a set of locking metal manacles with inner leather and fur padding. The slaves here were well pampered. No bruises for them. Or none worth quibbling over.

He picked up her hand and slipped on the first manacle, tightened it until it was firm, locked it, then looked at Sofia while still in possession of her wrist.

Eyes wide, nostrils dilated, tongue tip on her upper lip, she looked stunned.

He kept the amused twist of his mouth to a minimum, took her other wrist, did the same, then swiftly attached the ropes to the table legs behind her head. The more forceful his actions, the less give he allowed her, the more she seemed aroused.

She likes me ruthless. So be it.

This time, as he manacled and fastened her ankles to the other table legs, he made sure to do it fast. She was his, and he took that gift and ran with it. His muscles versus hers equaled no contest.

Oh, yes. One spread-eagled woman with her legs separated enough to see and do what he liked.

“Now I can see your cunt properly.” He tugged the curly point of pubic hair at the base of the triangle and twisted it into a spiral.

“Mmm.” She wriggled her ass. “Dankyo—”

“Shh.”

A stray breeze skittered past and sent the fabric tails on her nipple jewelry flipping across her breasts. Such pretty breasts—heavy enough to be attractive and perhaps to tempt him to try decorating or flogging. Making her breasts and her ass red could wait for another day. There would be another, because for this to be a once-only exercise for them, he’d have failed to please her. He almost laughed out loud at that thought.

He sent her a slightly evil look. “How many orgasms shall I extract from you, Sofia?”

Her strangled gasp boded well for the night.

Hmm. Where to start?

He eyed her upper leg where his hand had been a few minutes ago. So edible. Slowly he leaned in and put his mouth there, then opened up so the stubble on his chin scraped her thigh. The scent of her pussy thrilled him. Then he bit her hard enough to mark. Her squeal almost made him come.

THE SPIKE OF pain from his bite crashed through her. When it zinged to her clit and wire-clasped nipples, the pain shot straight into pleasure. Writhing away only made him hold her down, and God, that did things to her. Everything sank. She shuddered, feeling the helplessness and the power he had over her flip the world.

I can give in. Let him take me wherever, however.

For a wonderful moment she did, oh God, she did. Her muscles relaxed. She hummed.

The world came back. Dankyo was staring down at her.

Again she felt the way he’d bound her. Arms tied somewhere behind her so her elbows were beside her head. Ankles fastened at the other end of the table with her feet flat on the floor. The way he’d dragged her limbs into place, given her no chance of escape. Yesss. Her pussy clenched at the memory.

She could move side to side, but not when he held her down, like he did now as he knelt between her legs. Then he propped his elbows either side of her stomach. The man was between her legs. Not knowing what he intended ramped up her excitement.

“If I had feathers”—he reached and took hold of one of the tails of material trailing from her right nipple—“I’d tease you here.” Then he took one from the left also and tugged them both. Her nipples pointed down at him and stayed that way since he didn’t release the pressure.

The spark of tingling pain and the heat, the easy possession of those parts of her, made her wriggle.

He cupped each breast, squeezed them together, and bent down to lick each nipple, one after the other.

God. She bowed up, wanting more. Moaned.

“You can speak if you wish, Sofia. Though I like your other sounds also.”

He licked both areolae and sucked, drawing a nipple into his mouth and pulling hotly on it for a long, delicious time. Wetness leaked from her cunt. She tried to wriggle, but he pinned her with his weight. The pressure of his body flared into her clit. She panted and writhed under him and got precisely nowhere.

Her whimpers filled her ears. “Please. Inside me. Please, please.” The simple words meant she stayed low, inside his power. Thinking wasn’t good. She wanted to feel. Wanted his possession of her body and mind.

Dankyo chuckled. He slid down her body, steadied her with his forearms across her belly, and licked her clitoris from slit end over the top and into her hair. Then again, and again until she was crying out for release. Lick, licking. Umm. With a bite now and then. His body kept her open. The climax built, thudding into her. Driving her up. Liquid hot heaven. She arched and panted and tried to struggle. Muscles strained. But he held her, controlled her. Oh God. Oh damn. Pleasure erupted, and she jerked spasmodically, orgasming, gasping, and knowing he was there, still licking, licking. Molten wet tongue.

Oh…heavenly gods and demons.

Her pulse hammered at her chest and temples.

The table was hard under her back. She pried open her eyelids.

“I am never forgetting that.” His stare was hot. “You just fulfilled a singular need of mine.”

“Oh?” she said weakly and drew her tongue across her lips.

“Yes. Seeing a woman I own climaxing.”

Uh. I own? I should be protesting. But Dankyo’s words just seemed so right.

That he planned a second orgasm was obvious when Dankyo plunged his fingers into her cunt. A gasp broke from her.

She wanted him inside her, but not just his fingers. She raised her head and watched, enthralled, feeling the rhythmic dilation, then spasm inward as he thrust in and out.

“I’m…I’m…” Oh, that felt so great. She shut her eyes. The pause as he wriggled another finger in made her grunt. Then the shove of all of them up, up, up. Heat rippled outward. Her head dropped back onto the table with a thud. Something cushioned her. A cloth of some sort. Damn.

“I’ll let you move more, Sofia. Let me see you move.” His words sounded thick and rasping.

He was watching her, getting aroused by this. So would be the others in the room. And that fact slammed into her at the same time as he fed his fingers up inside again. The delicious stretch made her want to arch. He’d said she could, so she gave in to what her body desired. She arched—head back, neck tensed, body in a curve that led to where he pumped in and out of her slit. Yet she managed to push more, and thrust a little toward him with each shove of his fingers into her. Her wetness made thick squelching sounds—loud declarations of her arousal, of her lust.

“I like your taste, Sofia.”

He set his mouth on her again and sucked her clit in. His teeth caged the nub, and his tongue swept across and toggled it to and fro. The slip and slide made her concentrate on that, made her climb into ecstasy territory yet again. Inevitable. Couldn’t stop. Tied and controlled by Dankyo, and the man had a dangerous tongue.

Her groans and gasps came louder this time. She opened her mouth as wide as it could go, dragging in air. A tidal wave smashed through her, obliterating thought. As everything peaked, blackness screamed in, her mind disintegrated, and she fell, convulsing with pleasure, into soft, gentle darkness.

Chapter Nine

She wasn’t non compos mentis for long, but she remembered. Or thought she did.

Did I have an orgasm, then black out?

And someone big was carrying her. His coat rubbed against her hair and made scratching sounds right next to her ear. When she peeked up, she saw it was Dankyo. The rocking motion as he walked made her thoughts slow again.

“What happened?” she mumbled.

“You fainted.” He smiled down at her.

“Oh.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I’ve never—”

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I take it as a compliment. It happens sometimes. We’re leaving now. Close your eyes.”

Such a casual dismissal? But she did what he’d said—closed her eyes. Being right next to his chest, with his arms around her and with his heart thumping under her ear—it was so relaxing. When they reached the vehicle and slid into the backseat, she cuddled up to him again. By the time they arrived at their destination, she’d recovered a little but stayed in his arms.

Their steam limousine drew to a halt near the lamplit entrance to an arched gateway. Their vehicle was too large to drive through. Above, the facade of a long building climbed into the dark sky.

She tried to get out and walk, and Dankyo blocked the door.

“This is the Hellenic delegation’s compound, Sofia. If you get out like that will you be happy at the impression you make?”

She looked down. Remembered. Bare breasts. Nipple jewelry. Uh-oh. At least she had the harem pants on. Somehow, braving public scrutiny at the dinner party had been less confronting than here where people would see her every day. Perhaps in a week this would mean nothing to her, but not yet, not tonight.

“Your coat?” she asked hopefully.

He slowly shook his head. “I’ll carry you again. Snuggle in, and no one will see a thing.”

Grrr. The staring match lasted all of two seconds before she gave in. Damn. How does he do this?

She snuggled. As he followed a guide and carried her up stairs and along corridors, she recalled all the arguments with her father and brothers. How much they would have paid to know Dankyo’s secret for getting her to say yes.

“Here.” He nudged open the door their quiet guide had indicated. “Our bedroom for a while.”

Our? The innocent yet somehow astounding word made her wriggle from his grasp. Her bare feet hit the cool timber floor. The click of the door shutting made her whirl, and she felt the tug of the fabric tails on her nipples.

It was true, though. She had to stay with him. For appearances. Was it such a hardship? She swayed. Her eyelids threatened to close down altogether. If she hadn’t trusted him, she would have roused, but she did. Trust him. What a strange concept.

But, I do. So tired.

“Go get washed up.” He indicated. “Unless you’d like me to help?”

Hell no. On automatic, she trudged to the indicated bathroom, slipped off her clothes, cleaned up, and went back into the room, then hesitated. One bed. No other bed, nowhere else to go. Half-asleep already, she considered.

He’d given her orgasms, sucked and licked her down below, tied her up. What was sleeping next to him after that? So she climbed into bed and sank into oblivion.

At times during the night she half woke and found his body right up next to hers, sighed, and went back to sleep

Morning. She woke up alone.

Sun streamed in through a window veiled by light netting curtains. She listened to the sounds of the nearby river. Somewhere out there boat engines started up and men called the raucous greetings of those setting out early for work. Birds cawed. Motors chugged.

Yawning, stretching her kinked muscles, she eyed the bare, crumpled sheet next to her. No Dankyo.

Slowly she sat up. Thank God.

She was here to finish a task. To prove she was the one person able to solve the Clockwork Warrior mystery. To get a job and success from this. Not to become Dankyo’s…mistress. And boy, she’d really gotten off to a good start doing that.

The ache in her nipples reminded her of the grip of the wires. And that brought back to her exactly what she’d done—let herself be tied up, displayed, and made to come in front of a room full of strangers.

This is Byzantium, where slaves do as their Masters bid them. Where no one will know if you surrender yourself to me.

Those words had given her freedom.

She shook her head. While it was happening, last night had been strangely wonderful, and that she’d been watched by others had made it even more erotic but not to be repeated. Just like she’d told Dankyo. But if she kept sleeping in his bed, next to his—she shut her eyes—glorious body, she’d never manage anything.

So, did she drag off the bedclothes and dump some in a corner to prove her point?

She got up, picked up a pillow, and eyed the rugs, the chests, the lack of spare space, and sighed. Where?

The door opened, and she realized she was wearing precisely…nothing.

The pillow suddenly became an important accessory. She clutched it to her, concealing groin and breasts.

Dankyo entered, then merely raised one eyebrow and stalked toward her. Black trousers, buttoned-up ivory shirt—all neat and businesslike, as always. Words avalanched into her mind—daunting, scary, and hell, sexy. Backing up only worked for two steps, when her shoulders hit the wall.

“Morning,” she squeaked.

He propped his arm overhead on the wall, caging her in. “Good morning, Sofia.” His other shoulder moved, then a second later, his hand smoothed down her bare side. “I see you’ve not dressed.”

“I’m—” She swallowed, sure she’d just flared her nostrils, and feeling the weight of his stare. Might as well paint YOU MAKE ME NERVOUS on my face.

“What? Not sure what to do? You said yes to me last night.” Now his hand slid upward, leaving a trace of heat, and awakening her flesh. He reached her neck, then her jaw, then her mouth.

Sensations trickled from where he gently thumbed along her mouth.

Tasting him became such a desperate need her tongue ached. But her mind clamored at her. How do I get out of this? I’m about to slide down the wall.

“I said yes was temporary. Not today.”

“I see.” He kissed her forehead. The closeness, the way he’d trapped her, made weakness shimmy through her body. His breath warmed her, and his mouth pressed on her skin. “There is only one problem with that, my lady. After last night, yes is no longer what I’m looking for. If you want me to stop, I need to hear a no. Understand?”

His weight was on the pillow now, squeezing her firmly into the wall. No and you can’t bobbed up in her head, then sank again. She inhaled, long and shakily, then let her muscles relax. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Now. The pillow.” Though she grabbed instinctively, he pulled it away in an upward direction. It was either hang on to the thing and look silly, or let it go.

Damn. Not good.

The mean twinkle in his eyes made her scowl while she tried to figure out whether to cover her important bits with her hands.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, snared one hand, and kissed the back. “Let me see you.”

“I’m not some prize at a fair.”

“No?” His eyes shadowed into darkness. “To me, you’re the greatest prize of all.”

Her heart seized up before thudding merrily back into action.

“But prizes—” He switched his grip to hold both her wrists, then inexorably lifted her arms above her head and clamped her wrists to the wall. If he’d nailed them there, she’d have had more freedom. Warmth flared into her groin.

His gaze travelled from her face downward, lingering on her breasts before lowering. “Prizes need to be displayed. And touched.”

Though his eyes met hers for a second, as if checking her response, he wasn’t giving her any choice—not now anyway. As his big hand covered her body, shaping into all her curves and stirring to life every portion of her, her breaths came harder and harsher.

“All of you is mine to handle. From your breasts…” She flinched as he came near her already sensitive nipples, but he fondled each one, using his nail to cut a fine circle about each areola before his palms smoothed in the southerly hot direction. By the time he reached the triangle of her sex and cupped her mound, she was arching into his hand. “To here. And you are so wet.”

One digit carved a path between her swollen labia. She closed her eyes to appreciate the thrust and slide of his flesh on hers. She opened her legs a little farther.

Being handled suited her just fine.

“You like that, Sofia?”

God, yes. I have to say? She nodded curtly.

“I thought so. Not only am I going to learn every bump and crevice”—his finger cruised up inside her and she jerked and moaned—“I’m also going to learn your mind.” He slipped out his finger. “Because your mind will help me learn how to make you squeal and wriggle. I like squealing, wriggling, squirming, sometimes even screaming.” His bit her neck for an excruciating second. Then he kissed the bite and added, “Leave your arms up high.”

He released her and stepped back. “Turn around, Sofia. Face the wall. Palms flat.”

She obeyed, feeling her breasts heave as she struggled to control her reaction to being commanded. If she let him, he would take her to whatever place he wished, do with her as she wished. He wanted a no before he’d stop. This was no pit in hell; this was her fantasy come true.

With his flattened palms, he drew slow arcs across her back, sides, and ass—warming her up like a sculptor playing with the clay before he formed some new creation. She sighed and hung her head, staring down at where her nipples poked out in little nubs. To have a man simply run his hands over her…bliss.

Then he came in close and molded his body to hers, his groin to her buttocks with the length of his erection settling into the divide of her buttocks. He flicked and sucked the lobe of her ear. “You have a wonderful ass, my lady. Tell me, what am I not allowed to do with it? There are so many ways I’d like to mark you.”

She shuddered at the pure lust in his voice—as if she were indeed some prize he’d waited years to find. Excitement zinged through her, livening her nipples to such tight points they throbbed. But what did he mean?

“Sofia?”

“I don’t know.” She exhaled a long, miserable breath and felt tears spring to her eyes. Then she shook her head again, over and over as she spoke. “I don’t know. I just know I…want! I just know what you are doing means so much to me. But what I want, I do not know. I wish I did! I thought I just…”

Oh God, those rape fantasies, but no. She sensed there was more than that. But what? I like him holding me, doing…things. Just that concept enthralled her.

“Shh. It’s okay.” The quiet rumble of his voice soothed her, and he drew her even closer with both arms wrapped under her breasts. “It’s okay. Then I think we will both enjoy finding out. As you said, you are a woman who can say yes and no when you need to.”

She snuggled back into his arms. The desire was there still, but simmering. The confusion had blown it away. “Yes, I can.” With her neck canted sideways, his chin rested just beneath her ear.

He shifted one arm, and then the sharp pain of a pinch zipped into her buttocks. She yelped and wriggled. Another pinch, and she jumped again. The heat connected with her clit. “Mmm.”

Dankyo chuckled. “There. Experiment number one. Pinching is good. See, we are making progress.”

“In pinching?” She screwed up her face. “I’m not sure this is— Hey!” Another pinch came an inch from her lower lips, in the crease of ass and thigh. “Ow. Wait!” But when she wriggled, delicious heat spilled through her. She squeezed her thighs together.

“The word, remember, is no, if you want me to stop. I think—”

Something banged and shattered the window like a musical explosion, blew a gust of wind and glass past her to tinkle where floor and wall met. A large curved fragment of bronze thunked into the plaster two feet from her nose and sat there hissing as it cooled. Smoke and dust curled into the air.

“Hell! What is that?”

“You have bare feet. Stay over here.” Dankyo bundled her onto the bed, then strode to the door, his hand already whisking a large revolver out from under his coat. As he held the door half closed, he frowned at her. “Remember. Stay. This will lock. I’ll be back.”

No shots were fired in the next few minutes. She listened, knees clasped to her body while she perched on the bed’s edge. Down below someone shouted, and perhaps men were running, but nothing worse than that. The noises subsided. The voices sounded calmer.

She wrinkled her nose at the shard still sticking from her wall, then chewed on her thumbnail while she came to a decision.

“No way am I staying here to be shish-kebabed by the next stray bit of whatever-the-hell that is.” This room seemed as perilous as anywhere in this foreign place, but Dankyo…despite all his dangerous airs, something about him said, safety.

Clothes, though—where were they? She fished under the bed for some shoes, then got up to look. If she could find some clothes that would also hide her face, she’d go find him.

Chapter Ten

All the people she encountered were far more interested in picking up debris than watching her. Careful to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible, she peered into a few rooms. Finally she found him inside a shed on the south side of the courtyard their room overlooked. Smoke still wafted through the double doors that had been slid open to their stoppers. Something within clanked and chugged like an ill-balanced steam engine. She slipped inside, making sure she didn’t impale herself on any of the metal debris strewn across the concrete floor.

Quiet as a mouse. She grinned. In the black tights and long black hooded shirt she’d found in the wardrobe, she might be a sleek and deadly ninja. She tugged off the hood.

A row of funnel-shaped voltaic lights dangled from the high ceiling, casting yellow tones over the timber workbenches and eliciting glints from the bronze and steel contraptions parked on the floor.

The most remarkable was an eight-feet-high man in verdigris green and gold. Chunky yet warlike, she thought. A standing replica of the Clockwork Warrior. The spiked head had been knocked crooked, and metal showed raw and twisted in the center where a nose might be expected. Above his back, steam hissed from torn pipes as round as her wrist. The machinery noises came from within his body.

The engine sounds stopped, and more steam gushed from his joints and wounded metal.

“Sofia.” A quiet word, but she jumped. Dankyo had seen her, and he moved toward her, as purposeful as an ironclad in full battle array. His pale shirt was streaked with black, and his face bore smudges as if he’d wiped his hand across his forehead.

Behind him a lean, gray-haired man poked energetically at the hissing steel statue using a wrench and a long screwdriver. A pair of strap-on binocular eyeglasses were tipped up on his forehead.

Dankyo’s eyes…oops. Mean as a wolf on a mission. She took a step back. Didn’t take much for this man to turn her into a quivering mess—half anxious, half aroused.

“What—” she began.

“You left. I said to stay. And you’re out by yourself? A slave without her Master?”

Her temper fired up. “I’m disguised! I never said I’d—” The words she meant to say vanished when he grabbed her collar between finger and thumb and stared down at her.

“Sofia. I had reasons. I always have reasons.”

She bit her lip, and peeked around him but barely had time to see the other man was paying them no notice.

A tug on the collar, and Dankyo’s hand on her chin brought her back. “Me, Sofia. Don’t look at Henry.”

His voice dropped into a barely there rumble that made her toes curl. “Later I’ll attend to this properly. I think your ass needs some reminding to stay where I tell it to.”

“What? My ass needs reminding?”

He nodded. “Precisely. I did say I’d reinforce my decisions with pain if I had to.”

The words sank into her like a sizzling stone to the bottom of a lake and stayed there bubbling, rippling outward, keeping her still. What was he planning? He released the collar.

Blinking, stunned, and still processing the echoes of nervousness and desire running crazily up and down her body, she watched him turn and walk back to Henry. Her feet couldn’t seem to move.

Do I go, or stay? Do the wrong thing and, and… God, what an arrogant asshole. But he’d left her one hundred feet high in the clouds, wondering what his hand would feel like on her backside.

She sucked in her first breath for ages. The room quivered into focus.

When he put his hand behind his back and crooked his finger, beckoning, relief freed her. She stepped forward.

Am I turning into an obedient little puppy dog? Never, surely?

Henry glanced at her, then circled the warrior replica, tapping with his screwdriver. “It’s a local metallurgy fault. Won’t happen again, sir. Once I sort this out. Just have to locate the faults. You know me. But, my word, amazing the way the trajectory of the fragments was so even. Straight as a ruler. Head height.” He pointed out the door. “Pow! If I hadn’t ducked…”

“Perhaps pow, but once those bits ricocheted off things, they went everywhere. A piece of him is stuck in my bedroom wall. And is he disarmed now? No more surprises?” Dankyo asked.

“No more.” Henry reached up and waggled a metal key that hung on a lanyard around his neck. “This is the disarm key.”

Dankyo enclosed her hand in his and drew her close. “Henry, this is Sofia.”

“Welcome! Welcome!” He grinned at her and shook her free hand in a manic way. “You’re the one here to solve the tomb puzzle. Yes?”

“Yes. I am. He’s a good copy.” She nodded at the metal man—anything to distract her from the way Dankyo was playing with her fingertips. Wherever he touched seemed to pulse with energy as if every nerve thrummed to life just so she could feel. It had been like this with her first boyfriend. But Dankyo wasn’t that, was he? This was merely a dalliance. A meeting of two people lusting after what the other could provide.

“A good copy? Was, maybe. Before he exploded. So you can solve the mystery?”

“I think I can.”

Dankyo squeezed her hand. “She’s a little overoptimistic.”

“Am not. Maybe a great lummox like you would find it difficult to solve, but it’s a piece of cake for me.”

“Great lummox?” He growled.

“Uh.” Oops again. “Small lummox?” she squeaked. This was the day for her ass to suffer, it seemed.

When Henry resumed poking at and tinging the metal, the sounds burrowed into her head and…clicked.

An idea seized her. “I think I can help you, Henry.” Though Dankyo didn’t let go of her left hand, she stooped to grab a second screwdriver from the tool box at her feet. Then she rose and did some tapping of her own.

Henry waggled his eyebrows at her. “Say again?”

“Look. Hear that?” She reached up to hit a spot on the metal warrior’s neck. Henry cocked his head. “That duller ting is where the faults are.”

“Oh! Oh, yes!” He applied his own screwdriver, making a series of plinking sounds. “Terrible! And wonderful. I can use this method. Not precise, though. Needs refining, but thank you so very very much! Will save much time. Say…are you two?” Henry’s gaze flitted from her to Dankyo and back. From a back pocket of his overalls, he sneaked out a measuring tape.

“No. We’re not—” she started. Then stopped, wondering what he’d really meant.

But already Henry seemed intent on measuring her height before he switched rapidly to gauge leg, then arm length.

“Whatever are you—” When he snagged her wrist, she tugged it from his grasp.

“My word,” Henry muttered, scratching his eyebrow with the stiff end of the tape. “Remarkable. Most women are of different dimensions. Less up top.” He made vague circular motions with both hands while absentmindedly eyeing her breasts. “Still, I like challenges.”

What the hell? She shuffled back. Is he quite mad?

“Henry. Not now.” With those few words Dankyo halted Henry’s pursuit of her measurements. “We have an invitation to the palace. You’re coming too. Get whatever you need. Get yourself fed and cleaned up. Eleven sharp.”

“Sure. Sure.” He nodded like an overwound clockwork marionette. “I’ll be ready. I have some weaponry to show.”

“Good. Now, is that your office? I need to use it.” Dankyo indicated a door at the far corner of the workshop, past a stack of crates.

“Yes. Of course. Be my guest. I’ll trust you to lock up. The Hellene traders in the compound here are terribly nosy. Steal anything, they will.”

“Come, Sofia.”

She hadn’t much choice with Dankyo tucking her arm into his and walking toward the office like a man out for a stroll with his sweetheart.

Nervous about his intent, she fumbled for something to say. “Why are we going in there?” No answer. “Are you serious about taking this Henry before the emperor-bey. Is he likely to explode anything? The man seems dangerous.”

“He’s not. He knows his business. This is the only accident I’ve ever seen as a result of his work.” They’d reached the office door, and Dankyo turned the knob and swung it open. “Ladies first.” With his hand at her back, he propelled her through the door.

A glimpse revealed a paper-bestrewn desk, a chair, blackboard, and battered blue filing cabinets.

She scooted about, to walk in backward. Protecting her rear seemed a good idea. “Now. You have to tell me. What are we doing in here? I should be getting ready to go to the palace.” The edge of the desk bumped her thighs.

Why am I always going backward around Dankyo? The answer was obvious. Because he’s dangerous.

“It’s eight. We have a few hours. Ample time. That was a remarkable display of…something, out there. Intelligence? Some sort of genius? But it does not excuse you.” From a coat pocket he removed a single black glove and tugged it on, then adjusted the fingers.

“Um, thank you, but what is that for? It had better not be for what I think it is.”

“It’s for your rear end.”

“Umm.” Watching the gloved hand—the hand that reminded her of a snake about to strike—wasn’t wise when a big man stood between her and the door. Some morsel of self-preservation made her search for an escape route.

“I told you I would expect obedience. You agreed.”

I did? Oh yes. “Uhh. That was last night, not now.”

“But you also agreed to keep going. Remember? To stop, I need to hear a no. This was an instruction I gave for your own safety, which makes the infraction worse. Anything might have been happening outside. So I need you to say you’re sorry and that next time you will pay me heed. Or tell me no. Not just a temporary no. I want a full ‘I don’t wish to keep this relationship going’ type of no.”

Just like that? The finality of it just plain stopped time. She blinked. An ache spread in the center of her chest. This wasn’t fair. I only just got used to the idea of being with you, of trying to find out what it is I want. Damn.

“If you say no to me, then I won’t spank you. But I’m still disappointed. I expect better compliance with my orders in future. You did not know the full circumstances here. You might have gotten yourself killed.”

“This—” He what? Oh. So she was wrong no matter what? She halted, feeling half choked and shook her head, suddenly aware of a strain between her eyes. “Not fair.” She stared, frowning, struggling to dam up those stupid tears. “When you said I could say yes or no…I never thought no would mean everything stopping.”

Dankyo breathed out long and slow. “It won’t. It doesn’t. Only now and only this time. If you say no, I will step aside and resume my duties as simply your protector. Sofia, I’m not going to hurt you beyond your capacity. I will only punish you if you need it. This is a part of the equation for me, and I think, for you also.” For once there seemed an air of wistfulness to his tone.

He lowered his head a little and leveled a look at her. “Sofia?”

The air seemed to crackle with tension; then her decision thumped into place. The pull inside her dissolved, washing away like the last gust of drizzling rain sweeping across a meadow. For me also? She wasn’t sure of that, not yet anyway. This whole thing seemed like being a newborn babe. Tiny steps. Try. See. Okay. I can do this.

“Um. You want me to say sorry?” She inhaled and smelled Dankyo. He was so close, so masculine. Damn. This was making her wet, scared…and confused.

He waited.

“Sorry?” she squeaked hopefully. His lips twitched, as if he strained to hold back laughter.

“That’s a start. Do you understand the why, though?” This time there was a tiny crease down his forehead.

Ugh. And then a spark of understanding and empathy came to her. He was worried about her. Maybe not in a deep, I love you forever, kind of way, but worried. The realization made her stomach sink. And she guessed she had been stupid. Here he was trying to help her, and she’d messed up.

She bit her lip. “Yes. I think so. And I am sorry.”

“Good.” Such meaning in that one word, for it seemed as final in tone as someone shoving a rock in a doorway to keep it open.

Her heartbeat drummed a tattoo on the inside of her ribs. She shut her eyes, but still she could see his black-gloved hand. I am scared, and this is insane. But, I do want this. Without this, without handing him control, they had nothing special.

Her knees quivered. I’m not scared of the pain. I’m scared of where this might lead. This was the unknown.

She opened her eyes and found him studying her. His eyes were a gorgeous dark toffee brown—too pretty. This is the only man who’s ever seen this strange side to my soul.

“Done?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in the quietest whisper. But he heard.

“Turn around, undo the buttons on your pants, bend over, and put your hands on the desk.”

Still a little unsure, she slowly did as he asked. Paper rustled as she slid her hands across the surface. With her head to one side, she listened to his approach.

“Good. I’d tell you to do this part, but”—he shoved her shirt high up her back, then inserted his hand in the waistband of her pants—“I think I enjoy it too much.” She heard him suck in a deep breath before he yanked her pants down to her knees.

“Yes. I’ve seen this bottom before.” His hand caressed her there, moving in slow heavenly circles.

God. Too nice. Heat spread through her pussy.

She lifted her head. Something made her tempt fate. “Had you forgotten it already? Maybe I need a younger man?”

He pinched her.

“Ouch! Damn you!” Wriggling crumpled the papers under her forearms, and pens rolled onto the floor. Half straightening her arms, she went to stand up.

He flattened her to the desk with one hand between her shoulder blades. Air whooshed from her lungs. Her breasts were squashed onto the blotter.

“Hmm. If you’re this feisty, I need to hold these.”

Within seconds he’d gathered her wrists, then pinned them in the small of her back. The easy force of it jolted her. The fight, her smart answers, all leaked away along with the strength of her muscles. She sagged onto the desk top. Her legs trembled. Her eyes drifted shut.

“Much better.”

The first and second blows smacked into her butt, jarring her, stirring pleasant sensations in her groin. That was punishment?

“And the business end of this.”

What? Then four iron-hard smacks rained down, jarring all the way up her body. Fire-sharp pain radiated from her ass. “Oh lord! Ow!” She tried squirming but got nowhere. Her hands stayed trapped in his.

“That was mild because it was your first time. Now will you stay put when I tell you to?”

As if she’d say no when her butt was in range of his hand? “Yes!”

Something small and cold skittered across her backside, leaving lines and dots of pain.

She flinched and swung her head. “What was that?”

From the feel of it, Dankyo had scooped something up. He moved in so his thighs jammed hers into the desk. Then the rhythmic quaking of his body on hers puzzled her a moment. “Are you laughing? What was it?”

“This.” He held a golden metal creature the size of her palm before her eyes.

“Oh!” She jerked her head back. It wriggled…had many legs. And damn, it reminded her of a cross between a spider and a crab.

“It’s a clockie,” Dankyo said. He put a squarish glass jar on the desk, dropped the creature in, and screwed on the lid. “The Ottomans bombard Byzantium with them every Tuesday or so.”

“Ugh.” She peered at it, her thoughts strung between the feel of Dankyo’s body pressing on her and watching the thing scrabbling about in the jar. “What are they for?”

“They write religious graffiti. Don’t worry. It only got as far as G.”

“G? Where?”

“On your ass. G is for God.”

Oh hell. And now he really was laughing. “Damn you! Stop that!” She squirmed about to shout at him, but he only leaned in and squashed her flat with his whole body.

“Shh. Stay there. I’m not finished with you yet.”

And that statement made her freeze. Clockie a foot from her nose, some writing on her throbbing sore ass, but with him on top of her, the world drifted far, far away.

“Mmm. Yes.”

Nothing much happened after that. He lay on her, breathing softly, holding her down, at times playing with her hair. The weight of him was enough to keep her still but not hurt her, enough to keep her from escaping or wriggling, and slowly, like a tide washing in and filling a rock pool, his presence filled her up. A word came to her that seemed to sum up how she felt. Possession.

Why am I so happy? The question nibbled at her.

Because right now I am His? It seemed so.

Strange, so very strange.

Chapter Eleven

This was the morning Sofia would finally see the Tomb of the Clockwork Warrior, and it swept past in a tumble of small tasks and muddled thoughts. This was the day, and yet all she could think of was Dankyo and how she’d gifted him with the key to her body…and in some ways to her mind.

She followed him here and there while he helped direct the cleanup of the compound. It seemed the man couldn’t stop himself sticking his nose in when things needed doing. And people let him. It was cute in a way. The idea of Dankyo being a good Samaritan, despite his rough gruff exterior, warmed her.

Metal had ricocheted everywhere, though luckily no one had been injured. Then she'd watched him talk to a Captain Riccardo, who was in charge of security at the compound, and then he’d made her sit and wait while he did some fighting practice with a sword.

Around three sides of this little hidden courtyard, a small roof projected above a raised timber platform—perhaps for an audience to sit in comfort. Sofia adjusted her seat on the blue cushions. At least he hadn’t made her kneel. But breakfast was long overdue. The smell from the food on the platter on the low table made her stomach ache.

Almonds, fruit, cheese, and bread. Iced water too.

This is good practice for you, he’d said. Slaves wait for their Masters. She shifted again.

If this pretend slave had to wait much longer for her Master, she’d eat him when he arrived. Though… She glanced up as Dankyo did a last whirl, leap, and slice at the air, ending in a half crouch with his sword tip extended. Though he does look edible.

He sauntered over, the slim naked sword hanging from his hand. His loose white cotton pants ended halfway up his calves. Sweat glistened on his bare biceps and pectorals. He had so little chest hair compared to other men she’d seen.

All the better to see your muscles. She swallowed and made herself concentrate on Dankyo’s face as he halted before her. The scent of his sweat teased her, warning her that here, within touching distance, was a man.

“Kneel properly, Sofia.”

There was no one else to see if she obeyed like a slave should, yet she wanted to do this. He’s watching me so closely. Does he wonder what I’ll do?

Sofia got up onto her knees, put her palms on her thighs, and waited. Between her legs, sensations stirred. Her breasts seemed heavier. He’d made her feel like a woman with so few words.

His chest rose and fell. Still she waited.

“You are so beautiful. I have commanded many men, and I enjoy doing so. Yet this”—he nodded a tiny amount—“Seeing you obey me, is far headier.” He reached and put his hand on the side of her face. “I like this. And you?”

The warmth from his compliment and his hand settled inside her. She squeezed her thighs together. “I like it too.”

“Good.” He straightened and seemed to shrug off his serious tone. “The fighting. I believe you don’t know the sword? Would you like to learn?” He casually swept the point of the sword across the perimeter of the courtyard. “This place was once part of a palace. It’s like a rabbit warren. Impossible to get tight security, but there are places like this where it’s private. I cannot teach shooting to you here, but the sword, I can.”

“You’re asking me?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Yes.” He smiled all the way to his eyes. “I love the way you obey me, but I don’t want a lapdog.”

“You don’t?”

He tsked. “No. A lap woman perhaps, though?”

“Hmph.” Her inner playfulness awakened. “Don’t be too cocky, Sir. I’m not always agreeable. Sitting in your lap just to wriggle about is not on my agenda, as yet.”

“Ahh. The fire is back.” The satisfaction in his voice baffled her.

She frowned. “Teach me the sword if you wish. I like the patterns of fighting I saw.”

“You saw the patterns? The katas? These fast moves? You have an excellent eye.”

“You know patterns and puzzles are my forte.” She waved her hand at the vase of petunias set on the table. “Even in the unfurling of the petals of a flower there is a pattern. But in fighting, those patterns are weaknesses. I can predict your moves.”

“Oh?” He chuckled. “Pattern predicting or not, to be a good swordswoman you need skill, strength, and speed. Besides, they are only the base of my moves. Can you see the pattern in this?” He rested his sword beside his leg, picked up the petunias and stripped the petals from them in one swipe of his fist. After again taking up the sword he strode to the center of the courtyard.

“Watch.” He flung the petals skyward. In the quiet air, they slowly fluttered back to earth in a pink-and-red cloud.

He began. A dance, she marveled. No other word described the elegant turns of his body, the whirl of the sword, and the coruscations of light flickering from the steel. With each slide and stamp of foot, with the flow of the blade as it spiraled through the air, dozens of petals met their end, split on the fine edge of the steel.

There is a pattern, though.

She came to her feet and tensed, watching without blinking. She couldn’t quite comprehend such a swift interweaving of moves. Almost, almost, she saw the pattern, and then it was gone again. If she could slow it down—but then Dankyo lunged once more, and speared the last petal an inch from the earth.

She paced closer, looked. Each petal had been severed in two. A field of them lay slaughtered in a magenta circle about the man. And yet he was serene and barely out of breath.

“That was incredible.” She grinned. “You must show me how.”

“I will. But now, we will eat. After that, you will prepare to see your tomb. Come.”

Prepare to see your tomb. She’d looked forward to this for years, and yet she shuddered as if ice water trickled down her back.

Bah. She shrugged it off.

Dankyo pulled on a shirt, and they sat on the cushions and ate. Though onboard the ship they’d been like two wary animals circling one another, here she found it so simple to be beside Dankyo, shoulder to shoulder. At times he fed her an almond or a portion of cheese. The urge to do the same for him finally overcame her shyness, and she offered him the last piece of the sweet, flaky pastry.

“Thank you, Sofia.” He took the food into his mouth, his lips brushing her fingers.

“You’re welcome.” How odd the pleasure that had given her.

“Before we go to get ready, I want to discuss something serious.” He took her hand in his, pressed it to his thigh, then patted it.

“What, Sir?”

“I am supposed to be your protector here, yet the best way to do that would be to send you home.”

She raised her eyebrows. No way, Sir. Just try it.

“I can’t do that, unfortunately. This tomb business is a government directive for you. Just as I am here at the instruction of the Hellene government. To list everything of consideration.” He tapped the back of her hand. “One. An ambassador of the emperor-bey’s was assassinated in front of me a few months ago. The female assassin involved was tracked to this city.”

“Oh. I never knew about this—”

“It was kept quiet. As far as I know, there is no reason to suspect she is targeting you. Two. The poison bottles. That was aimed at you or me. Considering the puzzle clues on them, I think someone knows you are coming. Not the Heraklos, as they would have had you killed out of hand, or denounced you to embarrass the emperor-bey, or both. The Ottomans? Very unlikely they would be so subtle. I think someone at court may not like your mission. I have no idea who.”

“Uh.” She sank back. “Not good.”

He patted her hand again, then squeezed it. “They seem to be only warning either you or both of us. I will advise the emperor-bey of this today. He may be able to help. Three. The attack on the Princess Kay. The men were discovered planting an explosive in our cabin. Though all of them died in the firefight, we were in some way also their target.”

“How, if we weren’t on board?”

“I think they planned to discredit me. I have a reputation as an excellent man in security. An explosion there might show I’d failed, or perhaps incriminate me in some way?”

The ramifications of his list seemed endless. “Political machinations are not something I understand. What can we do?”

“I thought you could see patterns?”

She screwed up her mouth. “People, no. People and their messes just annoy me.”

“Ha.” Yet amusement showed in the lines creasing about his eyes.

She smiled back. “You seem happier than you did on the ship.”

His gaze gentled, and he regarded her for a moment in silence. “I…enjoy life more around you, Sofia.”

“Oh.” Her smile went shaky as tears wet her eyelids. This man was sneaking under her defenses in every way. She shifted on the cushion. Stick to the topic. “Well then, what can we do about all that? Are we likely to get attacked again?” Her insides scrunched up tight. She hadn’t come here to get shot at or poisoned.

“I don’t know. I’ve talked to Captain Riccardo, and he’s increasing security. He’s hiring more men, but they’re locals, and we can only screen them so far. I’ve told him to get more of our own men sent to Byzantium. However, that will take some days to put into effect. At the palace…” He peered down at her, then heaved out a sigh. “For whatever reason, I’m not to aid in security there—more secret intrigues, no doubt. So there’s not a lot I can do once you’re there, by yourself. Truthfully, I would rather send you home.”

“What?” She wriggled her fingers, for he was squashing them. “No. I won’t. I can’t. This is my career, my dream. I wrote a whole damn thesis on this! Don’t you see? I’ll be okay.”

“A thesis? That is all?”

“And I’ll get a government job also.”

“How does puzzle solving do that?”

“Cryptography.” She looked to see if he understood. This wasn’t exactly a secret.

“Military codes.” He frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. They promised me. It pays a good respectable wage.” And my father will probably faint when he hears of it.

“I see. You are quite amazing, if crazy, little Sofia. Very well. I can’t command you in this, though I would like to.” His smile, this time, was grim. “Perhaps they will continue to only fire warning shots across our bows.”

“Perhaps. Besides, couldn’t this all be because of the weapons being sold to the emperor-bey? Some enemy of his may wish to stop that from happening? It may not be aimed at me at all.”

“Yes. I have already warned Henry. There are other possibilities.”

“Yet, you’d send me away?” Her heart seemed to squeeze in on her. She added in a small voice, “I thought you wanted me here?”

“I do, sweet Sofia.” He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. “But I don’t want you hurt.”

Oh my goodness. She searched his eyes, wondering where the grim and precise security professional had gone to. “I won’t be. Not with you around. You’re the most bulletproof man I’ve ever met.”

“I try. But, my lady, even I have scars.”

* * * *

The limousine ride to the palace grounds was already becoming familiar, though this time it was more of a procession due to Henry following their vehicle in a steam lorry. Her clothes however were not familiar. Sofia plucked the train of the ivory ensemble from beneath her derriere. Little emeralds dotted the see-through fabric, swirling out like a whirlpool of gems from the nipple area, then congregating again over her loins. And all this, she was certain, without concealing enough of her. From the back it would be almost decent, if only the train hadn’t been split down the middle so her ass played peekaboo.

She sighed. Well, she’d just keep her legs together, a lot. Nipples…seeing nipples wasn’t that bad, was it? She’d displayed them already.

“What is it?” Dankyo, of course, was in a somber dark gray suit with a frock coat.

“You,” she muttered disgustedly, “probably have enough layers of clothes to bounce a bullet off, while I am practically naked. It has never been my ambition to show the world my pubic hairs.”

“I chose well, did I not?”

She glared. He wasn’t quite laughing, but… “Damn you, stop being amused at me.”

And that did make him guffaw. “Look here.” He unfolded a small writing desk from the back of the driver’s seat. “Help me with my haiku instead of complaining, Sofia.” With that he reached, put an arm about her waist, and pulled her in to tuck against his side. “Mmm. You smell good. What a pity I can’t mess up that outfit.”

The dark rumble of his voice, the scent of his cologne, and the easy force he’d used to drag her to him made her just plain quiver.

She ran her tongue across her lip. “A high what?”

“A haiku. It’s a type of poetry.” His gaze met hers, then drifted lower to her mouth and breasts. Her nipples tightened. “You are too tempting.”

He dipped his head and kissed her gently, their lips touching like two butterflies alighting on a flower. When he drew away an inch, she couldn’t help her forehead creasing. That’s all?

He rubbed his nose on hers. “I see a frown. It is not good to frown at your Master.” Then he added,

“The sparrow alights:

On reflected winter sky

Where dark wolves bestir.”

As the poem ended, he raked his fingers into her hair and rose above her.

“That is a haiku.”

Then he descended on her lips and kissed her like a monster from the underworld—a glorious deadly-but-sexy monster. Kissed her hard so he bruised her lips, and deep, for his tongue forced into her mouth and made her gasp. His fingers found their way past the flimsy panties made of gemstones and silk and whimsy and slid inside her. Then he fucked her slowly with his fingers while he pinned her to the seat with his body, with his hand in her hair, and with his mouth. She moaned and writhed, then moaned some more.

When he stopped, she kept her eyes closed for a while. Her mouth ached, and lord, she knew she’d been kissed.

“That should keep me in your thoughts until tonight, my lady.” He readjusted the cloth between her legs. “We have arrived at the palace. Would you like to disembark?”

His casual possession of her body shook her. She was giving in to Dankyo so easily, as if this was what she was born to do. All those weird dreams—was this what she wanted after all?

His fingers still rested on her upper thigh, wet and cool on her skin for they’d been inside her only moments ago.

She sucked in a lungful of air, swallowed, then murmured, “I thought you weren’t going to do any of that…messing up of clothing.”

He canted his head. “I changed my mind. It is my garment. Just as you are mine.”

Defiance flared. His? That was going a little far.

“I’m not y—”

“Oh? I think you are. Time will tell which of us is right.”

At the piercing amusement in his eyes, she made herself hold her ground and stared back. But compulsion found her. She looked away and lowered her gaze to her lap.

For a few seconds, he gripped her leg tightly, with his whole hand spanning her thigh. At his gentle kiss on her hair and whispered, “You’re beautiful,” she wanted to snuggle into his body and stay there with him, forever.

“Sofia, listen well. I want you to keep your wits about you today. The incident with the janissary at the party we attended—I think that may have been arranged to test us in some way. I’ve no proof, just suspicions. But politics and intrigue are second nature here. Take care, please.”

She nodded. Strange. If arranged, then she’d been put on display deliberately. Was it a test to see if she could act out being a good slave? She should be horrified. A week ago she would have been, yet without that nudge, perhaps she’d have missed finding out how much she yearned for what Dankyo could give to her?

Armor clinking, a guard stepped up and opened the door on Dankyo’s side.

The shock of recognition jarred her from all other thoughts. This was it. The path was out there that would lead her to the tomb.

And I’m scared. Elation and fear warred inside her.

Get moving. Be scared later, when it’s too late to worry about. Doing is better than quaking in my boots. She glanced down, wiggled her toes. Or my eensy weensy sandals.

“Sofia? Are you ready?” Dankyo slid across the seat and dragged the door in halfway, despite the guard’s hold on the handle, then waited.

“Yes. I’m coming,” she whispered.

* * * *

The memory of seeing Sofia walking away haunted him. Remembering her being led to the tomb, with her cute round ass swaying beneath the see-through material—torture. Pure torture. If he’d known the woman he was buying all those clothes for might actually enjoy his attentions, he’d have… Damn. Dankyo shook his head.

He’d have bought more of them.

But the agony of not knowing the situation here was equal torture.

The emperor-bey had chosen to be presented with the weapons in his Garden of Audiences. If it weren’t for the erected awnings above, the heat from the sun would soon be wilting the waiting petitioners. Despite having been requested to attend, and despite the emperor-bey having asked the Hellene government to sell arms to his country, he and Henry were having to wait in line.

Henry didn’t seem to mind and was busy rescrewing something to the new model gauss gun he’d brought to demonstrate.

With a dubious eye, Dankyo checked out the stubby rifle that had been specially decorated for the emperor-bey. The under and overbarrels had engraving and enameling—tiny blue flower buds entwined about them on a vine. The lenses on the flip-up sights were circled with gold, and pinpoint diamonds. Ridiculous.

The pistol in his shoulder holster had been confiscated by the palace guards, but Henry could bring in weapons. The charge and ammo packs were retained by the guards, but still, a weak point surely.

“So, Henry. Any idea why we are here, outdoors, instead of in the shaded audience chamber?”

Henry shrugged and kept unscrewing something or other. “Every so often, maybe it’s Wednesdays, he does his audience thing here. It’s the way of it. Don’t ask me why.”

“Right.” Useless, the man was useless if it didn’t involve metal and screws and engines. Every Wednesday perhaps? If they’d let him keep the security job, he’d have told the emperor-bey that being predictable was bad.

Only a few delegations were ahead of them. Then Henry could try to sell this blasted gun. He’d never thought of himself as an arms dealer. With Sofia on the palace grounds, this was the only excuse he had for being present, though. He and Henry would get a commission, but the money meant nothing to him. Not that Henry was an arms dealer either—he was just the best man for the job. Theo would be missing him. The two enormous landships on the estate were probably pining too. Henry treated the mobile weapon carriers like his babies.

Henry still leaned over the gauss gun, murmuring soft words. In a second he’d be burping the thing. Dankyo let his eyebrow creep up a fraction. Genius came with weirdness.

At least the fountain to the left, with all the tinkling and splashing water, made him feel cooler. At the top of a spray of water, a metal bird danced, as if flapping its wings and bathing. To the right, he could see past another little conglomeration of sweating petitioners to a bridge. Past that was the path that led up to the audience area where a grand white dome was held up by columns. On a projecting cliff, an artificial waterfall spouted skyward a few yards, then roared down into the ravine crossed by the bridge.

Dankyo glanced at Henry’s secondary present—a two-foot-high clockwork dancer, seven veils and all.

So, the emperor-bey loved playful clockwork. He mused for a moment, forgetting the slant of the sun heating his suit, and the sweat on his back. Caught by the wind, cool droplets from the fountains sprayed across his face.

With the offered task of adjusting security for the emperor-bey gone, he had no position here, no power. It bothered him. The palace was a vast unknown, and each day Sofia came here, he had to leave her alone and unguarded.

When she’d let go of his hand to follow the servant, he’d held her fingers a moment longer. The half-hidden fear on her face had prompted him to add a few words of encouragement, “I will be here to escort you back. No matter what happens. Remember, I will never abandon you. Take care.”

For some ungodly reason that escaped him, his chest pained him as if a shard had pierced it.

She’d smiled, whispered, “Thank you,” and then she’d gone.

He’d fulfill that promise. They’d have to shoot him to get him to go without her.

Before, he’d assumed he’d have influence here as an advisor on security. Now he was nothing, or almost nothing. Being unarmed each day, with no backup, was not his idea of best practice. He needed escape routes. It never hurt to be prepared. But how could he protect Sofia when he had no weapons or even a jot of power? Intolerable.

Captain Riccardo had not been helpful, but there would be others he could contact.

Maps, data, escape routes, schedules: he needed all those and more.

The palace crier called their names.

“Come, Henry. Our turn.” He strode forward, ready to swat the next servant who came to check the suitability of their clothes, the height of the grass, or whatever the hell else servants fixed in a palace where every last damn nit had to be counted and weighed and probably disarmed.

There would be a solution or two. The escape routes would be here. A way to be armed too, perhaps. He just had to find out how to do it.

Chapter Twelve

Every step she took brought her nearer to the tomb. Excitement swirled inside her until she thought it would burst out her ears and explode her heart. Her hands were cold, her pulse fast, and she couldn’t stop wondering if anyone was looking at her rear end. For a scientist about to examine the subject of her thesis, she’d sure picked a novel way to go about it.

And I’m not scared, I’m just nervous.

Except the never-ending maze of corridors, the emotionless faces of the guards and servants escorting her, and the knowledge that she was in the middle of a place that functioned solely to please the emperor-bey: all that left her wondering how she was going to get out again.

Okay, I’m scared.

Dankyo’s last words became a lifeline. I will be here to escort you back. No matter what happens. Remember, I will never abandon you. Take care.

The last two sentences made her eyes all watery.

Darn. She sniffed and wiped away the tears. “I am such an idiot,” she muttered. “I can’t be falling for the stupid man, can I?”

The guard to her right turned her half-helmeted face toward Sofia.

The little scar on the lip. She nearly tripped as the toe of her sandals caught the edge of a rug. It’s that woman again. The one who watched us at the party. The emperor-bey’s personal guard.

“Do not be afraid,” the guard whispered from the corner of her mouth. “You are safe.”

Sofia blinked. Her heartbeat slowed. Not a friend, but at least someone who’d bothered to try to make her feel better. Had her nerves been that obvious?

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” A little half smile crept onto the woman’s face, twisting the scar.

Her escorts halted with a swish of cloth and a jingle of scabbards and armor. The woman servant at the front of the little procession swirled ahead, magenta dress curling about her legs. She unlocked and then opened one side of a double set of gold-embossed doors. The hinges were silent.

“Come.” She gestured urgently and nodded, setting her bun of black hair bobbing like a circus toy. “In.”

Sofia frowned.

“Yes. Come.” The female guard took her elbow. “I will be with you. This is the harem. I will make sure you come to no harm. In two hours we return to this door together. Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The echo of Dankyo’s words in the guard’s assurance, or near to it, again relieved her. If anyone was to accompany her anywhere here, it had damn well better be this woman. At least she had a heart.

As she walked in through the door, the others left, peeling away and stomping off back down the corridor. Only her friendly guard stayed, and the black bun lady.

The lady relocked the door with a large brass key. “Come!” Then she marched away.

Another corridor. The timber floor echoed and small windows to either side showed buildings and gardens and the ground a dozen feet below. They’d climbed up to a higher terrace in the palace grounds. After crossing to the other side and another building, they walked for another ten minutes past doors and a few open salons where women lounged, reading and talking. Some waved and giggled. Their clothes were mostly as delicate and pretty as hers. She waved back and shrugged when they laughed.

Whatever they thought of her, she wasn’t planning on staying.

They came to a last door, a stainless steel one with a bronze wheel projecting from the center like that of the strong room of a bank. Exactly as she’d seen it in drawings.

Here it is.

Bun lady gripped the wheel and strained; then the guard joined her. After a jolt, the wheel turned. The door clicked. Together the two women pushed it open.

Beyond… Sofia sucked in a shuddery breath, then stepped forward and found a huge enclosed garden with blue sky marked far overhead by the hexagons of a dome of glass. The scents of water on foliage, of rich well-composted earth, and of flowers newly opened to the world overwhelmed her. She breathed deep and smiled.

Raucous parrots launched from a grove of palm trees, scattering leaves into the air and screeching as they wheeled across to a broad tree of deep green foliage. They tucked themselves away in the branches, arguing with each other as loudly as a mob of hawkers at a market.

Like the spokes of a wheel, stone-paved pathways led to the center where a smaller glass dome that rose up twenty feet housed her goal—the Clockwork Warrior. Rays of late morning sunshine struck gleams of gold and cherry red from his metal skin.

The movement of her feet across the pathway seemed as distant as those of a ghost as they journeyed closer.

A glass door led in.

The guard opened the door.

And there he was. Two yards to the top of his head, bent at the waist, with his legs stretched out before him, and his golden sword buried where his legs joined to his body, as if he’d stabbed himself. The warrior had been set in a pose that defied realism. Red mosaics climbed up his sides and arms to form a helmet with gleaming red spikes projecting from the top. A single red tear sat below one eye.

“Oh Lord,” she whispered. “It is him.”

“I have heard you know much about him.” The guard removed her helmet.

“I do,” she said, awe tincturing her voice.

There were no plants in here. The white-tiled floor was precision clean. Not a drop of rust soiled the Clockwork Warrior. Time had not touched him at all. Four hundred years or more, and he was still perfect. “I have studied him for five years from every copy of every possible document and lithograph. And I see what I thought to see.”

“What is that?”

“Lines. Shapes. Things that were meant to change.” So hard to explain. “I need to draw him and study it to be absolutely sure. Can you get me paper and pens, and a magnifying device?” All that equipment Dankyo had left behind would have come in useful right now.

“Yes. I can. They say our warrior holds the solution to the ultimate fighting machine. Do you agree?”

“I don’t know, yet. I know he holds a puzzle, and I will, I can unravel this.”

“The emperor-bey desires this answer of yours, very greatly.”

Sofia trailed around the outside path marked in slightly creamier tiles, itching to reach in and touch him. All the engraved verses found on the outer edge of the plinth ran under her fingers. They were recorded in nearly every text about the warrior, and whole books had been devoted to studying the whys and wherefores behind the verse. She ignored them.

Though the verses might be pretty, the answer lay in front of all those scholars, and they’d not seen past the mystery and myth to the purity of his physical presence.

“They say you know puzzles and can unravel riddles faster than any?” said the guard. “Can you see the answer in those?”

“Hmm.” Sofia shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She didn’t need to look to know the words of the verses.

“Drink from the cup and truth will be revealed unto your soul.”

“No man or woman understands their depths until they have met their inner workings.”

“Shuffle minutes with your fingers, multiply the fractions of the seconds, find the clock algorithms. Then time shall be yours.”

And the final most cryptic one of all: “Taste your blood and ashes.”

Yes, all utter twaddle, as far as she could tell. But she never rated anything as useless.

The guard sat on a small timber stool that waited among a tribe of similar stools next to the door.

When Sofia returned to the start, she asked again. “Can you find those things for me? Please. I need to draw.”

The guard nodded. “Of course. There is a telegraph here.” She turned to a small metal desk near the door, and unhinged the cover, revealing the key of a transmitter. Her helmet went down on another stool. The tapping of the message punctuated the muffled noises of the garden outside. The glass was thick.

It’s quiet in here with him. She stared again at the Clockwork Warrior, then looked at the guard. Asian. That darker tone to the skin, the slight tilt to her pretty eyes—no doubt at all, with the helmet off. Could she be a refugee from the Greater Asian Monarchy, like Dankyo?

“What is your name?”

“Excuse me?” The guard raised her eyebrows and swept some strands of her glossy black hair from her cheek.

“Your name. I can’t keep thinking of you as the guard. May I have it? I am Sofia.”

The woman seemed to gnaw her lip a moment, staring avidly with her honey-colored eyes as if Sofia had suddenly transformed into something odd, something to be studied in detail. “I am not supposed to say my name to you. If I tell you, you must not tell anyone that I told you. No one at all. And, in return, I will ask a favor of you.” She nodded. “I am Xiang.”

“Xiang. Good. I won’t tell. Thank you for being kind…before.”

“You are welcome.”

Though she was dying to begin her examination of the man, her curiosity about Xiang won out. “What favor would you like to ask?”

She smiled. The scar shifted. “I need advice on love, and you”—she waved vaguely—“seem to know more than I.”

“Ah.” The party. Her face flushed with heat. Me, give advice on love? Oh well. “Go ahead. I can but try. But I’m no expert.”

“No?” Xiang sounded as if she thought that a lie, then sighed. “I have a friend, a man, who in the past has wished to bed me. This is private, you understand?” She peered at Sofia.

“Of course.” Odd. And this woman had seen her tied down at a public party while Dankyo licked her to orgasm? And now she was asking advice about her love life? Definitely odd. My life is so topsy-turvy. Maybe I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole?

“Xiang, before you tell me more, I’m curious, but don’t say if you don’t want to. I have a friend who you’ve seen already…” Hold in that blush. “His name is Dankyo.” No reaction appeared on the woman’s face. “He escaped from the GAM many years ago. Do you know him?”

“No. Though I am from there, I know of no such man.”

“Ah. Go on, then.”

With her elbows on her knees, Xiang rested her chin on her hands. “This man who wishes to bed me, he did me a great wrong many years ago. I almost died.”

Sofia frowned. “Really? Not deliberate, I hope?”

“It was, in a way. He chose his own life over mine. Although I still adore him, I also can’t help this itch that tells me to stick a knife in his guts.” She laughed. “I joke, a little. What do you think?”

“Goodness.” What an unusual question. Sofia sat on a stool to give herself time to think. “My. Well, I wouldn’t kill him, if that’s your inclination. Perhaps you need to talk? There might be something you don’t know?”

“Ah yes.” Xiang nodded. “My thoughts too. I will talk and then”—she smirked—“perhaps I will kill him.”

Eeek. If this woman was a friend, she was still rather bloodthirsty. Perhaps that came with the job?

“I’m glad I could help.” Now what do we chat about while I wait for the drawing implements to arrive? Where best to stab your boyfriend? Dankyo would be so at home here.

Once the drawing materials arrived, she spent the rest of her time diligently recording all the details the other paintings and sketches had lacked. There would be no room for error. She had to be as sure as possible before disturbing anything. Four hundred years of history and all the messy political stuff here meant a mistake might cause heads to roll. Not hers perhaps, but someone’s, and she didn’t want that on her conscience.

While she worked, Xiang ventured into the garden. Every so often, from the corner of her eye, she’d catch sight of the guard leaping about, pirouetting, slashing her sword, and basically killing lots of air. Without the sound of her movements carrying through the glass, it was strangely beautiful and relaxing, like a lethal ballet.

Like always when she worked at a puzzle, time slid past without her noticing, and she only stopped when her vision blurred and she caught herself rubbing the ache in the middle of her forehead. The two hours she’d been allocated had somehow turned into three. If she studied the Clockwork Warrior any longer, she’d have a headache that would last a day.

When she opened the tomb’s glass door and stepped out into the vast garden, Xiang came forward, wiping the blade of her sword with a rag.

A small gray pile sat squarely in the middle of the path leading to the main steel door.

“You are finished?” Xiang stood at ease, with only the light sheen of sweat on her neck speaking of the long bout of exercise. She glanced casually at where Sofia was staring. “Ah. I have done well, have I not? They are a pest in here, but they gave me good practice. Hard to catch too.”

Sofia swallowed. Rats. A pile of dead rats with blood trickling over their fur and pooling beneath them. “Yes. I can see how they would be.”

Damn the woman is so calm. Yet, I guess they are only rats. She frowned and picked her way past the little corpses. Ugh. Xiang was a mean swordswoman. Fast at the least.

Going through that final door that led outside the harem felt like breathing in freedom. But she had no time to savor it. A janissary was there—bearded, tall, in a brown and red robe with sword at one hip and heavy rifle swinging at his shoulder. She knelt automatically.

A soldier this one, not some bureaucratic file waver. She glimpsed his frown-hardened face before Xiang pushed her head down until her forehead bumped the floor. They spoke as if she was not there at their feet.

“She is not well trained.”

“No, sir. She belongs to the man from House Kevonis who came to teach us about security.”

“I want her better trained. She’s coming to the harem for this? Yes? Make sure we are not shamed before this foreigner. See she has a good instructor.”

“Of course, sir.”

Then he walked away. Training. Here?

When she crawled to her feet, Xiang eyed her as if expecting some outburst. But it wasn’t worth it to her. Whatever he meant, she would do it. Far simpler to agree than to argue. Such a time-wasting exercise, though.

“That was the janissary of the gardens. He is an important man and in charge of all the slaves of the palace. He was told you come here for training. The emperor-bey commanded this before your arrival. And so it will be best and cause less suspicion to do as he orders.”

“Ah. I see.”

When she returned to the main part of the palace, bubbling with enthusiasm, Dankyo met her in the waiting area near the audience chamber.

The man she’d met at Salonica airfield had returned—grim, distant, with his eyes like dark glass.

“Why were you late?”

Puzzled, she shrugged. “Time got away from me. I’m sorry.”

His reply was as dry as paper, as cutting as a blade. “Walk with me.” All the way back to the gate in the wall, she hurried with him, waiting, hoping, for some further answer, but he said nothing. Questions hammered at her. Was it just the time, or had something else happened? Surely it wasn’t just her lateness?

While they stood waiting at the back of a crowd for their limousine, she gave in to her niggling curiosity. No one was watching, but she spoke quietly.

“What has happened?” He said nothing. Darn, the man was being utterly grumpy. If something else had exploded or died or whatever, surely he’d have said? “Cat got your tongue?”

His gaze sent cold tunneling into her veins. Did he think she was some idiot, not to answer her?

“Let me guess…someone put too much starch in your suit? Your pet hamster died…you have rust in your bullets…the emperor-bey got you to dance on—”

“Sofia! Stop. You go too far.”

Her excitement at her examination of the Clockwork Warrior had leaked away and left confusion and a churning sick stomach.

What was going on?

* * * *

“So. How does it go? Well?” The emperor-bey took the first long knife from the table, then the second. Both were made for hand fighting, not throwing. They had plain leather-bound hilts and blunt blades. Still, if he didn’t trust Xiang, he’d not allow even this. She could likely kill a man with her fingernails and teeth if she wished.

“It does.” Xiang took up a matched pair, stepped away, then settled into a knife-fighter’s stance. Her armor had been stripped off, and she wore only a leather top and leggings. The timber-floored training room had been cleared, and they were alone. “Sofia is intelligent, but I fear she is developing an attachment to Dankyo. I may want to kill them both. After I finish playing with them.”

The quiet ferocity in those words bothered him. His assassin functioned best when detached. He sighed, flipped the knives, and caught the hilts again. “She is pretty. You know I hate killing those. I’ll consider it if you present me with a report detailing all your reasons. Ready?”

“I will do this. Yes, I am ready. You are off-balance. Your right foot is too far forward.”

“Oh.” The misplaced foot was deliberate, of course. He shifted as if to fix the problem and smoothly extended the move into a lunge for her left eye.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time they pulled up beside the gate to the compound, she was resigned to waiting for him to explain. He tugged her from the car by the hand and hurried her inside. It was past four in the afternoon by then. Their only conversation in the limo had been when Dankyo asked if she’d had lunch. When she’d told him she vaguely recalled eating, he’d narrowed his eyes, grunted, and gone back to silence.

They reached a door, and she realized he’d brought her again to the sword-practice courtyard.

“Why are we here? I’d like to get washed and changed.”

“Here.” He dragged her into the small side room. “This is yours.” He handed her one of two wooden swords. “It’s a practice sword. And we are going to practice until you learn some swordplay. And this can go too.”

Ruthlessly, he ripped the train from her costume and most of the attached diaphanous silk.

Ruined, and so pretty too. She gaped. “What…why did you do that?”

“It would have gotten in the way.”

Without waiting for her to turn aside, he stripped off his clothes until he was naked, then put on a pair of the cotton training pants he took from a small cupboard.

My, my, my. She put her tongue to her top lip while he tied the drawstring. The image of his perfect, toned lower body refused to leave her mind. But…no. Mind off that. He is being a bastard.

She followed after him back into the courtyard. Shadows already darkened the shaded niches. “Practice? Now? Why now, Sir?”

“Because I say so.” He came behind her and pulled her arms up so the sword faced forward, then went to her front, turned, stamped his feet and took up a fighting stance. “I am going to teach you the basics of using the sword.”

“Now? I’m tired.” She pouted. “How long does it take to get good at sword fighting?”

“Years.” He readjusted his feet.

“What! God. I quit already. You stay and practice killing petals. Tomorrow, please.” She let the sword lower until it pointed at her feet.

The growl he made was fearsome enough to alarm her. She squeaked and took a step back. My God. Her heart did a frightened gallop.

“Sofia. Raise. Your. Sword.”

She did so.

For the next hour, she swung the sword and danced about, learning footwork, riposting, and thrusting, and battering her wooden sword against his. At first it was fun—she recognized patterns quickly. Though her muscle strength and speed were pitiful, she loved this new branch of learning. Especially when a gleam of approval showed in Dankyo’s eyes at her fast improvement. Then her untrained muscles tired, and she tripped and fell.

“Come,” he said. “We’ll stop awhile.” Awhile turned out to be a ten-minute break to drink, and wipe off sweat.

Dusk had arrived. Red and orange tinted the sky above Dankyo’s head.

“Again.” He drew her out into the middle, and they danced about and fought some more. Over and over and over. Voltaic sconce lights flickered and buzzed as they came on, then cast blue circles across the yard. Now and then, when she made a mistake, Dankyo smacked her butt, hard, with the flat of the blade. Though she hissed at the small pain, she refused to yelp or complain.

Damn him.

He showed her a new stance.

“Again.”

Weary, she raised her sword, then moved her grip, and firmed her jaw. As she stood there panting, sweat ran down the side of her face and over her stomach. She would not let him beat her. The man was being a bastard. She adjusted her weight from foot to foot, staying springy and ready for movement.

“You’re fit,” he said, grudgingly.

“I was on the running and the rowing team at college. I’m not a pushover.”

He eyed her, lowered his gaze a moment as if thinking, then straightened, and let his sword point fall. “Enough. We are done.”

Annoyance kept her from tripping again on the way to the low table.

He poured her a drink, watched her swallow it, and then poured another. “This too.”

Once she’d drained the glass, he took it from her and placed it on the table with the swords. Fatigue crept in, and she swayed. Crossness kept her from lying down on the cushions and pretending to be a rag doll…a very sweaty rag doll.

“Why? Why did you push me? Why now? Are you trying to turn me into a pile of mush?”

He smiled.

Dumbstruck, she stared back. At last. It was like the tide coming in on a deserted beach. Life returned. Tears came to her eyes. Angrily she scrubbed them away with her forearm, then sniffed. “Damn you. Why do I care? You just made me so unhappy.”

His smile faded. Then he stepped in close, and picked her up under her armpits. She gasped as he carried her all the way to the plaster wall behind where he held her with her feet dangling. Dankyo buried his face in her neck and breathed a while. She felt his lips on her skin and his tongue taste her.

What was this? Little tremors ran across the thick muscles of his shoulders.

“Thank God, you’re alive.” He let her slip a little lower until she could see his eyes on a level with hers.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He moved so his thighs were between hers and supporting her, his arms wrapped across her back. “Two hours. You promised me to be back in two hours. You took three and a half.”

Ah. It was that. All this because… “You worried about me? I didn’t really promise, did I? And I was only all excited about everything. Time just…went. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, smiled grimly. “I did this not so as to turn you to mush. I did it to lose my anger. My anger at you. Your ass should be red and maybe even black and blue.”

“Oh? Umm.” Slowly her eyebrows raised. “It is sore! You whacked me with that damn sword.” She squirmed, feeling the bruises awaken as her backside rubbed on the wall.

“Uh-uh. No. You are not going anywhere.” His arm worked free from between her back and the wall, and then he gripped one side of her top and ripped it away. Though she wriggled some more, he did the same with her panties, maneuvering the fabric out from between their bodies and tossing it aside. “Better, much better.”

Naked with Dankyo between her legs. His erection nudged at her cleft. Only the cotton of his pants separated them. He nipped her lip, caught it between his teeth, then kissed her roughly.

Emerging from the kiss breathing hard and with her clit stirring with warmth, she tried one more time. “I’m all sweaty and awful! We can’t do this.”

He growled. “Be still.”

Her voice trailed off. “Not…not here” She pushed at his shoulders, only to have him whip his other hand from behind her back, catch both her wrists, and hold them to the wall above her head.

“Yes. Here.” Then he watched her as carefully as a bug collector observing a strange new butterfly while he wormed his hand between them and pushed a finger inside her.

Though she’d never seen anyone in this secluded place, the possibility was there, and that both horrified and excited her. How perverted am I? No one normal would want this. But her breaths came faster and wetness trickled from her slit with each in-and-out slide of his digit. Slowly waves of need stirred, making her shudder. Knowledge thumped into her—he held her pinned, helpless, with her legs spread by his.

She tried again to move her hands, but they might have been cemented there.

It seemed right to protest. “Let me go!”

Dankyo stepped away until her legs slipped from his thighs, and she stood straining on tiptoe with her arms above her.

“Let you go? Those words again? You know where we are, now. How it is.” Dark amusement colored his voice. He pulled his finger from her and played with her clit, circling it as if it were a new toy. “Those words don’t work, Sofia. I have your yes. Until you take that away, you are mine. So I can do this.” He added a finger and thrust two of them up into her. “Or this.” The third joined them, sliding, finding its way between her swollen labia, stretching her vagina in an exquisite way.

Her mouth fell open in a gasp.

Without conscious thought, her hips tilted, as if she begged for more.

But I am begging. I want…

Another thrust went straight in full depth until the knuckle of his unburied finger touched her lips and his thumb bumped her clit. Then his hand beneath her shoved her a whole inch up the wall.

“Uh!” She shut her eyes.

She moaned and let herself dangle there, supported by his hand between her legs, her toenails barely scraping the ground. Him fucking her while he observed, and while he knew she was a heartbeat from saying no, made her want this even more.

“That’s…beautiful.” The male baritone depth made her jerk her eyes open.

His eyes narrowed. A smile grew as he surveyed her from her face to her breasts and then downward. His gaze lingered at the split of her legs where he’d speared inside. More liquid spilled from her over his hand.

“Move,” she croaked, then panted some more and did a little wiggle as she tested the iron grip on her wrists. Her walls clamped down on the hardness of his fingers.

Dankyo chuckled. “Move?” Then he came closer, covering her struggling body with his. “Be quiet.” As if to punctuate his command, he clamped his teeth on her earlobe. The sting shocked her into stillness. “You don’t get a say in what I do. Not at all.”

This time his kiss was brutal. His lips crushed and devoured her, seeming to sucking the very breath from her lungs. She let herself sag, whirling away into a hot, panting darkness, breathing when he let her. He released her wrists and took his fingers out.

When she whimpered at the loss, he gripped both her buttocks. With firm bites and kisses he laid claim to her lips, her chin, her throat, and the angle of her neck, worrying at her here and there like a dog with a favorite toy.

With her hands free, she still could do nothing to stop him but clutch at his shoulders, powerless. His sweat-slicked muscles rolled under her fingertips and etched the strength of this man into her mind. Man and woman. Strong versus weak. But this, I want—I need this.

His kisses and bites stamped his possession into her flesh.

When he was done, she had melted, or so it seemed. Her legs wobbled, and only his body pressing on hers kept her from collapsing. Sweat had stuck strands of her hair to her cheek. Her lips ached and seemed swollen to twice normal size.

He breathed hard also, mouth partly open. Then he touched his forehead to hers.

“You will kneel on the cushions, my lady, and not move. Head down with your ass in the air so I can see you, all of you, when I return.”

When he stepped away, she did fall to her hands and knees, feeling her breasts sway. She looked up, neck craning. Just the position, with him above, made her feel so little, so…his. It was odd, and wonderful.

“There.” He pointed. The rasp in his voice betrayed his own passion.

The need for him to take her so overwhelmed thought and logic that she scurried to the spot on the cushioned mat and knelt and put her forehead to the softness. Without his heated body on hers, she seemed lacking. She wanted his hardness smothering her again. Her pussy squeezed in. She needed something in there.

With her forearms next to her head, her hands clasped above, and her backside in the air, she waited. Coolness wafted along her slit, and her clit pulsed. Anticipation made her shiver. What would he do if she didn’t wait? She almost wanted to defy him just to find out. Would he spank her? Or something worse—something more painful? She shivered again, remembering the smack of his hand on her ass.

Chapter Fourteen

His footsteps told her he walked to the little armory, then doors opened, there came jingling, and doors closed. Within minutes, he returned, his feet thumping on the timber, then stepping softer and shifting the mat. Something heavy was put down and something else that jingled.

Casually, as if it were his right, he rested his hand between her legs. “You stayed. Good. Perhaps I won’t need to hit you so hard. Let’s see what you can take.”

Her breath hitched sharply, and she quivered.

“You like that?” He slid his fingers along, and she could tell from the glide how wet she must be. It was impossible not to clench down there. Oh. When a finger lay just there, with the tip at her entrance… She tensed. If I wiggle…

His other hand pressed on the small of her back. “Don’t move. I can tell you want me to finger fuck you.” He played with her entrance some more, just not…quite…going in. She so wanted to say pleeese. “So willing? Hmm. I said that to scare you a little, my lady. I see scary arouses you. You like rough, you like ruthless. If you don’t, I expect you to say.”

She nodded, her hair making scratchy noises against the mat. One word echoed in her head. Please. That finger, moving on her still, oh my. But she wouldn’t speak. Silence amplified, made her want expand until it filled her up, made what he did so much more.

He rose, and she turned her head and saw that he too was naked. His erection stood out proud from his body. Seeing it made her imagine him thrusting into her. Arousal filled her, thick, excruciating. Her groin became the focus of her body.

Dankyo reached for a long wand that led up to a light, and adjusted the voltaic light so its blueness shone on her. She squinted at the glare.

“All lit up.” He paced toward her, long and slow—deliberate, like the approach of a beast. “You are everything I have wanted, ever since I discovered my need. And you wait so damn nicely.”

This was a man coming to do what he wished to her body. She parted her lips, squeezed her thighs together. Unblinking, she watched his feet. Such measured steps. Dankyo—her demon, her nemesis of love.

He continued. “If someone watched, they would see what I do. A beautiful woman waiting for me to administer pleasure”—he squatted beside her, then trailed the back of his hand across her cheek to her nape, then partway down her spine—“and pain.

“I’m going to bind you now, with these.” He went over and picked a belt from the pile by his feet. They must be what had jingled. “Because I like seeing you tied up and helpless. I plan to buy equipment, cuffs to hold you better, from the markets here. And Henry has some curious ideas also.”

What? “Henry?” she blurted.

“Yes.” He smiled in an evil way. “The man is a perverted genius. It’s his special hobby.”

The belt smacked down on her ass, leaving a long lick of pain that connected like lightning to her clit. She squeaked.

“That was for talking.”

The whine from her throat only made him chuckle.

Mouth open, as she waited and hoped for more, a thought surfaced. That should make me cross. Shouldn’t it? She frowned. Why do I like this? Humiliation. Pain. Being controlled. She shut down her thoughts. Feel. Let everything go. Just be.

He bent down low, wrapped the belt around her wrists where they stretched above her head, and cinched the belt tight. Then another, below her elbows. As he worked, tying her, he talked softly. “These aren’t perfect. But, if you get loose, I will be unhappy.” He stared, brushed a lick of hair from before her eyes. “Very unhappy. So don’t. And this, I will gag you with.” He produced her torn panties, showed her them with brows raised. “I want this, but if it disturbs you, say.” He kissed her cheek.

A gag? She eyed it. But, he wants this. Somehow that alone tipped the balance. A flicker of arousal at this strange requirement of Dankyo’s fed into her, spinning off another thread of pleasure. Yes. Oh yes. If you want. I want. Now, she could see the circle of need. When it pleased Him, it pleased her. So simple. So right.

When she said nothing, he tied it around her face, lifting her hair out of the way, making sure the cloth pushed between her lips. “Can you speak? Say no for me.”

Her tongue flicked the gag as she spoke. The word came out gargled but recognizable. He nodded. “Good.” Then he heaved to his feet and picked another belt. “And now, let’s see what this can do.”

As he walked behind her, he let the belt snake across her back. The cold leather sensitized her skin, whispering as it moved, grazing her buttocks, licking her cleft, then her thighs, before he lifted it away.

With little taps that hit like the pattering of heavy rain, he began. The flick and swat of the belt went on and on, mesmerizing her, and sometimes bumping her slit. At that she’d lift her butt and gasp. Each hit became a little harder, a little louder. A buzz seemed to arise in the skin of her ass. And it spread, invading her sexual parts, pulling her desire upward, outward.

Dankyo’s hand touched her, curving across and around each side of her ass, dipping into her aching slit, then out again. “Nice. I must do this in daylight. The blue light doesn’t do your skin or the marks, justice.” The words sifted through the haze, and she smiled, curiously glad he liked what he’d done to her skin. “Sofia, time to go harder.”

When he stepped away, she heard him draw a deep breath.

The first hit made her gasp. All she could do was bite the mat and hold on with her teeth. Each whack jarred into her, deep, burning, soaring through her. Another and another. Without thinking, she sagged until her breasts touched the mat. The feathery movements and bumps of the material against her nipples made them harden into tight peaks. The bindings meant her head must hang down between her arms. Air rasped through the moist gag. The pain thrummed deeper, sending a burn of pleasure through her groin. She squirmed and squeaked through the cloth, whimpering with every blow.

He stopped.

Panting, feeling her clit straining with inner pressure as if it were a button begging to be tortured, she swayed her ass and prayed for more.

When he knelt behind her, she shuddered. Her eyes were already closed, and the drift of his fingertips over the skin of her ass wrote new lines of ownership that she knew would never be erased.

He turned her over, and she hissed as the mat made contact with her tender ass. Limp as a wrung-out rag, she let him use another belt to tie her arms behind her head to a pole. Resisting seemed futile and not at all what she wanted. What he’d done to her had fogged her mind. He spread her thighs, held them open with his arms and body and lowered his lips to her mound. When he sucked the swollen button inside his mouth, she keened.

“Ahh!” She was catapulted into a state that must surely be one lick, one suck, one something away from heaven. Her thighs quivered, straining to press in, and he held them open with his hands.

“Mmmm!” Desperate, she writhed, her muscles striving to clamp onto him but getting nowhere.

And he stilled, with her clit in his mouth and trapped in limbo between his teeth and the subtle tap tap of his soft tongue. Her pleasure lessened, but she whimpered. So close. Blood thumped in her temples. The height of ecstasy waited, waited. She whimpered again, said, “Please,” through the gag, and didn’t know if the choked, half-swallowed word, made sense.

Groin thrust upward, toes scrunched, she was held at that excruciating instant.

Then he hummed onto her clit and sucked again. The slide of a wet warm tongue…

Devastation. Everything tumbled screaming through her body. The fire in her skin, the feel of his tongue, lips, and teeth on her most intimate part undid her. Her lower body thrust in lust-driven undulations, seeking and finding that ultimate release.

Slowly, gasping, mind blank, she lowered her butt to the mat. Her juices wet her from clit to ass. Beneath her was sodden and cool. His mouth lifted away. And she opened her eyes. Still bound, still gagged, chest heaving, she could only watch as he climbed to his knees and rolled on a condom.

Then he poised himself with the tip of his cock targeted at her entrance. The circle of muscle there felt the nudge. Their eyes met, locked.

THIS WAS IT. Dankyo could taste her on his tongue. There she lay beneath him, his cock prodding her, her legs spread wide—his for the taking, tied up, and ever so willing. Nothing was better than this. He hissed through his clamped jaw as he fed the head of his cock into her pussy. This moment needed savoring.

He looked, cataloging her beauty.

Even tinted in blue, she was lust incarnate. The circles of her areolae on top of those plump breasts. The fast movement of her chest as she panted. Her open mouth, lips parted around the gag, as she struggled for air. Her arms stretched above, bound by him. The way she’d squirmed under the belt. The images flickered through his mind.

And, God damn best of all, the exquisite feel of her juices slicking him down and her walls squeezing in…it all sent his heart rate soaring. He pushed his thick cock another half inch into her depths.

Liquid heat surrounded him.

Now.

“Sofia. Don’t move, darling, I’m going to make love to you so hard.”

She gasped, and tipped her lower body, up, just a fraction. Want, pure and simple.

Then he let slip his control and plunged in, sliding to the end in one long thrust, and out and in again.

Each thrust bounced her body and drew a moan from her. He braced one arm at her side and leaned over to center his open hand over her throat. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared. Awareness. He skewered her gaze with his, held her rigid, let her know what he did to her.

Making love was so animalistic. Wet. Hot. And I’m just another animal now. Nothing you can do but lie there and take what I give.

The pleasure mounted, as he shunted in and out, rocking her body. Sofia’s little noises drove him higher as much as the grip of her cunt on his cock. He shifted, propped his arms either side of her, and unleashed himself. Furious and fast. Harder, rougher, thumping into her. The smell of their sex thickened the air. She tried to writhe, yet presented herself ever higher.

Take. His cock swelled, and the heavy coiling lust peaked inside him. Again he thrust and hit home inside her. He grunted, tensed. For a while, the universe paused, then roared past as he came. His seed exploded out of him, pushing into her, every muscle in him squeezing down.

Sweat beaded on his chest and dripped from his chin onto her belly. He flattened his hand on her there, pressing down. I claim you, woman. Then he rested his hand on her throat again and held her there. I claim you.

If I say that out loud what will she do? He almost did. But no. Another time. He’d risk her refusal another time.

Once Sofia was able to stand, he got her to dress in some of the training clothes. Then he picked her up to carry her to their room, despite her feeble protests. When she turned her head into his chest and inhaled, the happy glow that invaded him took him by surprise.

The stairs creaked underfoot.

He’d just smacked her ass until it was tender and hot and made love so violently he’d exhausted her, and now he wanted to…what? He looked down at her serene yet dog-tired expression. Take care of her, that’s what.

The depth of that feeling bothered him. This no longer seems just a temporary affair.

That thought hovered in his mind while he arranged for a hot bath and a meal for them both and got her to drink and snack on some fruit. What am I going to do?

The steaming water of the white oval bath beckoned. Soap smell clashed with the ripe scent of sweat and lovemaking. The room’s clearer voltaic lights shone on her butt when he stripped the clothes off Sofia.

“Now that is nice.” He ran his fingers lightly over the redness.

“Eep!” She jumped, but he held her hip so he could look.

“Your whole bottom is red.” The stripe marks had merged. No bruises, though. None he could see.

“Well.” She smirked at him, then ran her hand gingerly over her ass. “That’s your fault, Sir.”

“It is indeed. In.” He indicated the tub. While she gingerly tested the water with her ass, then slid slowly in he leaned past the shampoo bottles to wind out the two windows. Heavy, green-tinged bullet-proof glass and riveted steel frame—a leftover from when the siege was real. Stars pinpricked the night sky. Below, past the compound’s lower wall, gleamed the dark water of the Bosporus and the lights of boats out night fishing, or ferrying folks from one bank to the other, or maybe other, less legal activities.

“The window?” She frowned. “Can’t people see in?”

“No. Not once we’re in the tub. Besides, if anyone sees your naked body, what does it matter?” He stepped into the tub and pulled Sofia between his legs. Water sloshed and spilled over the edge.

“Ohh. Warm. So tired.” She sighed and fitted herself against him. When he cupped her breasts, she only tilted her neck and wiggled her butt into his crotch. “Ow. That’s stinging…but in a nice way.”

“Good.” He kissed her ear.

“So crazy that I like this feeling.”

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of their dinner. To Sofia’s consternation he allowed the servant to bring the food into the bathroom. She submerged to neck level in the water as the food was set on a timber chair next to the bath. The man left, quietly shutting the door.

“Looks good.” He sniffed the aroma. “Ahh. Yuvarelakia. Lamb-and-herb meatballs and bread.” As he’d ordered, the cook had put all the food in one deep plate. Two goblets brimmed with deep red wine. A small second plate of honeyed pastries would be dessert.

“I can’t believe you let him see me naked!”

“Others have seen worse. Besides, I covered you with my hands, and then”—he tweaked her ear—“you sank, and the bubbles did the rest.”

When she went to grumble, he reached under the water and pinched her butt.

“Ouch!” The water sloshed again as she tried to shift away. “Not fair!”

“Who said I was?” While she digested that thought, he grabbed the plate and a fork. “Here.” He swirled a meatball in the red sauce and held it near her mouth so she could bite it. “How did it go today with the Clockwork Warrior?”

“Good.” She swallowed and went on, “He’s magnificent in real life. I can see the break lines, I’m sure! That was part of my thesis. On his waist area…”

He let her ramble on as he fed her more. The details didn’t concern him, only that she was happy and the mission to pry the secret loose seemed likely to succeed.

“And if all goes well, you plan to take up this job with the government?”

She craned her neck around, twisted the fork from his fingers, then turned her whole body. “Yes. I will. I’ll feed you now. Open.” Her green eyes looked up at him above that kissable mouth.

For a second he thought of retrieving the fork, but she seemed so determined and so cute. He gave in. “Why?”

“Why what?” She tore off bread and offered it to him.

“Why that? What does your family think of such a job?”

Sofia ducked her head, sucked in her bottom lip. “Who cares?” She flicked that glass-green gaze at him, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Yes, I care. I want to impress my father. That’s my big secret. Well not as big as…” She cleared her throat. “I hate him and yet I love him at the same time. He’s always thought me the stupid one. Not smart stupid but life-lesson stupid.” Her brow furrowed. “I was supposed to marry whoever he chose. And he disowned me.”

“You’re a strong woman, making your own way. Maybe someday, he’ll see that.”

“Pfft.”

His Sofia had worries. Nothing too complex, though. What would her father think of me? Not that he cared either. If I ever decide to…

Now why was he thinking that? Marriage was for the birds. That was almost his motto. Her other words ran past him. Her slipup that she’d meant to conceal. He wrapped a curl of her hair around his finger and tugged. “So, what then is the second big secret?”

Her blush would have rivaled the redness of her ass.

“Nothing.” The bubbles on the water apparently fascinated her.

“Sofia.” He tugged on the curl again.

“No.”

“No?” Her head shaking might cause her head to topple if it kept up, so he tightened his grip until she ceased, then made her look up. “I wonder how long it will take me to drag this secret from you?” Her look of horror made him laugh.

“I’m not ever ever going to tell you. Now, enough about me. What about you. Your past?”

A chunk of pastry plopped into the bath water, and she fished about looking for it.

So determined not to tell him? Perhaps he could make her, perhaps not. This seemed more a personal embarrassment than a state secret. He grimaced at the memory of Claire’s secret. That had been an entirely other class of secret—a disaster label would have suited it.

No, his little Sofia was just appalled. He’d wait. Pry it out of her slowly, carefully, if he had to. Some secrets hurt coming out, like a splinter wedged deep in your foot. “Eat some dessert, and I’ll start talking.”

When she put a piece of the pastry in her mouth, he let go of her hair. Her nipple peeked through the bubbles. Tempting. He teased it with finger and thumb, and she hummed in appreciation. “Don’t stop eating, Sofia, or I’ll make you talk about that secret.”

“Hmph!” But she took another bite and a sip of wine. Under the water, her ass rested against the side of his thigh, and her legs, with knees bent, went over the top of his other leg.

While he talked, he played with her nipple some more.

“I think I told you that I have been protecting or under the command of Theo Kevonis since soon after I arrived in London about fifteen years ago?”

“Yes.” She drove her finger around the surface bubbles, popping them. “It was that simple?”

“Indeed. When I met him, I knew he was a man I wanted in my life.” Time hiccuped as his mind presented him front and center with a matching thought. Just as you are the woman for me.

He sat back until he bumped the porcelain of the bath. Hell and damnation. Can this be true? I need to think about this more—later, though. He inhaled deeply and reassembled his purpose. “I was honored when he accepted me into his command.”

Sofia eyed her nipple and his fingers toying with it. She touched her lip with her tongue tip and squirmed. “Umm…before that? Did you say you came across the mountains?”

“Have some more wine.”

“You’re making me all bothered, doing that.”

“Good.” He raised a brow. “Move your legs apart, and I’ll keep talking.”

The indignant huff made not smiling difficult. He managed. When the water rippled from her legs moving, he submerged his hand and found the apex of her legs, then curled his fingers into her cleft.

Eyes half-closed, lips parting, she squeezed his hand with her thighs. “I have to sit still for this? To get you to tell me your past? Seems unequal.”

This time the smile spread too fast for him to stop it. “If you’re too tired, say, and I’ll stop.” While she decided, he stroked up and down her slit. The different, slipperier moisture of her pussy met his fingertip.

“Uh.” She wriggled. “Keep going. I’ll survive.”

“I thought so.” He found her clit and slowly circled it. Under the water, he felt it stand up harder every second.

“God.” Her head relaxed back, and she slid down into the water a few inches as her back arched. “That is good. Your childhood, then.”

Even with him playing down there she asked him? He gave in and filled her in on events in Greater Asia before the monarchy took control. The food riots, the starvation, the dead in the streets. His parents had been interned for being in the wrong subnational ethnic variety. He’d escaped over the mountains with a group of other young people of similar mind. His parents had died a year later, before he could figure how to get them out.

“Oh.” Sofia tensed and frowned, and then he felt her hand rub up and down the back of his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He paused, hand still in her crotch, but the urge to bring her to orgasm was fading. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it. I haven’t forgotten, but I no longer let it bother me.”

“Ah.” She nodded, screwed up her mouth. “You said not all of you made it over the mountains?”

Ah. She’d hit unerringly, the one place that still hurt.

“Yes. Some good friends died. That, I still try not to remember.”

“Sorry.” She patted him again, leaned in and hugged him around the shoulders, then yawned. “Maybe we should just sleep?”

The past had killed his idea of seducing Sofia. Those memories never went away easily.

While he dried her with one of the big green towels, she apologized again.

“It’s okay.” He wrapped the soft towel around her, pulled her into him, and kissed her hair. “You didn’t know.”

After he got her to lie on her stomach on the bed, he examined her rear end again. Nothing to worry about there. A perfect cute bottom. He found some light oil and started a massage from her feet up—poking between her toes, kneading the muscles of her calves, her thighs, her buttocks, and then her back. Her groans of utter pleasure slowly turned into the soft breaths of the sleeping. He lay down beside her, observing the quiet rise and fall of her chest, before he rearranged a few strands of her hair, then pulled the sheet over them both.

Having to sleep beside this woman seemed a strange sort of magic. Gradually Sofia was enticing him out of his shell. He knew it, he felt it. Though it worried him, it also pleased her. He could stand a little change for this reward.

As he too fell into the land of dreams, his past swept over him. The sea of snow poured down the slope, engulfing Xiang—it never became less frightening. His palms sweated. His heart pounded. Dead and buried in seconds. The armed patrol following on their heels had left no opportunity to try digging her out, even if they could have found her body.

Of them all, she had meant the most. Not his lover, but close. Perhaps, in time, they would have shared a bed.

When they’d set out to escape, she’d clutched at his arm, and asked if he would protect her because she was frightened.

Yes, with my very life.

When he closed his eyes, sometimes he would hear her ask that question again, over and over. The horror of his failure had never left him and crept across his skin most nights, soaking him with sorrow and self-loathing.

Blackness rolled over his last thoughts. Would she come to him in his sleep? He turned over and tried to relax into the pillow. Farewell, Xiang. She would ever haunt his dreams and his nightmares.

* * * *

It had been some time since he’d woken up next to a woman and had the leisure time to appreciate it. Once he’d used his foot to gently shift the sheet down to past her ass, he spent a long while watching Sofia. With the side of her head on the pillow and sunlight from the courtyard window haloing across her hair, she looked like an angel.

When one eye peeped open, a smile curved her full lips. “Hi.”

“Hello, my lady. I like that smile.” He traced her lips with his thumb, marveling at her softness. “Women are so round and easy to look at compared to a man.”

“Oh? And you have such a lovely deep voice and”—she laid her palm on his chest, then one side of her mouth curved up even more—“squishy muscles.”

It took him a moment. What did she just say? Then he choked back a laugh, wound his hand in her hair, and slid her across the pillow until their noses touched. “Squishy? I think you just stepped off a cliff, my lady.”

The chortle she let out made him realize how much he loved this silly side of her. And it gave him so many good reasons to smack her ass again. In one flowing move, he rose, hopped off the bed, then grabbed her ankles. He flipped her onto her stomach despite her squeals, and dragged her closer to the edge.

After one firm wallop on her backside, he sat on her ass and tickled her under her arms and down her sides.

“Dankyo!” She wiggled and tried to get free. Her flailing arms got captured quickly and held at her back. Which made her squeal even louder.

Yes. He grinned. “Ticklish, are we? So do I have squishy muscles?”

“You do! You do!” She gasped, and the giggles burst into half-choked cries. “No! Stop! Stop! You’re not squishy.”

He stopped.

After a last giggle, she sighed. “You’re nice and hard and muscly—just the way I like my men, all my many, many lovers.” Another giggle erupted.

He leaned in, squashing her down, covering her back with his heavy body, then took a good mouthful of the side of her neck and bit. “Bad woman. I know you are exaggerating.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sofia shuddered. After he’d bitten her neck, Dankyo had casually shifted back along her body, spread her legs, and put his cock to her entrance. She tilted her bottom up and wriggled to entice him in.

“In my own time.”

She heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing, and then a condom wrapper.

With his hands on either side of her, he slowly pushed into her.

Nerves buzzed to life inside her channel, and her clit sat up and took notice. But, too slow. Frustrated, she rubbed her groin into the bed.

“Uh-uh. No.” Dankyo put both hands to her back with his thumbs on her lower spine. “Stay still.” Then he resumed his slow thrust and withdrawal.

Frowning, she slumped, face burrowed into the sheets. Couldn’t he see she needed and wanted force? At last she whispered, “Faster.”

“Faster? I think I’ll introduce you to something of Henry’s I’ve borrowed. Though first…” He withdrew from her, pulled something else from the drawer, and tied her hands at her back.

The snug feel of soft rope somehow calmed her. She waited, happy, with her head on the side on the cool sheets, until a flicker of blue flashed. Something crackled and snapped like a dying voltaic lamp.

Alarmed, she strained to look. In Dankyo’s hands, a long snub-nosed cylinder of steel and glass hummed and grumbled like a piece of machinery on the prowl. Little pieces of violet lightning snapped about inside the glass.

She tensed, drawing her neck back in an attempt to put distance between her and this thing. “What…is that?” she squeaked. “Is it safe?” Frantic, heart jumping, she looked from it to Dankyo and back again.

At a click, the lightning and noises died. “It’s safe.” A little devious smile possessed the corners of Dankyo’s mouth. “You’ll see. Eyes to the front, Sofia.”

After an unhappy grunt, she turned her head. “So this is like the ‘puzzle of the day’?”

“If it is, you’re good at those. What would you call this?”

The hardness of the device prodded coldly at her thighs for a second before the tip nuzzled her lower lips and slid in her juices to the apex of her legs until it nudged her clit. He held it there. There was a second click.

Something buzzed deep into her, engulfing her clit, widening the harmonic vibrations like the shock wave of an explosion, growling on top of her most sensitive part.

She screamed and shuddered, arching so tight her breasts lifted from the bed. She was hurtling full throttle toward an orgasm. Bliss rippled outward. Heat consumed her groin, and in seconds she was nearly there.

Dankyo thrust himself high up inside her, and halted only when his flesh slapped into hers. Sensations cascaded—the sucking out of his cock, then the repeated slam of his body into hers. The feel of his long shaft curving up into her, tunneling in, while that thing ate away at her body and turned her into one humming buzzing hot creation…

Everything broke—thundering over her like some last huge wave roaring home. Nothing but pleasure existed. She gasped wide-mouthed, strained. Her pussy spasmed and unclenched. After a final strangled gasp, she crumpled onto the bed. The thing still buzzed at her clit. Oh God, such painful pleasure. She tried to roll to get away.

“Done. Already?” The thing landed heavily on the bed where he tossed it. “I see great possibilities for this gadget.”

Boneless and unable to move, she groaned as he drove into her again and again until he came. With his body jammed tight against her buttocks, Dankyo waited, recovering. He roved his hand up and down her side.

“So.” He sucked in a breath. “What might my lady have named this little machine?”

Face still buried in the sheet, and hazy from the after effects, she let out a small guttural noise.

Dankyo patted her. “I don’t think nnerg counts as a name. Perhaps later? Theo’s wife, Claire, called it a vibrator, though Henry prefers reciprocating sexual probe.”

The smug amusement in his tone made her fumble for a smart reply. But she was still tied up. Bad idea. She inhaled, then opened her eyes. “Untie me?”

“Indeed. Then breakfast. I’ll pick some clothes.”

She twisted to look at him and plead with her eyes. “Can I choose? Please?”

Slowly, face set, he shook his head. “No, while in Byzantium, you will allow me to have the pleasure of dressing you.”

Tricky man—he’d phrased that as both an order and a compliment. She couldn’t help smiling. Funny, but after all her protests at the airfield, she liked the idea of him dressing her. Except, God. What would he pick?

Chapter Sixteen

Gulls circled high among the clouds feathering the blue sky. At her back towered the stone and masonry buildings marking the river bank. Sofia waited with Dankyo a little behind the main crowd. There were hundreds here at the edge of the Bosporus—Byzantines in robes and turbans, tunics and pantaloons, and half as many foreigners in suits and dresses, with walking sticks and hats. Slaves too, and most were women. She watched them patiently attending their Masters. Soon the floating sidewalks would be done moving. The squeak of giant hinges and the rumbling of the engines powering the unfolding of the metal and timber decking drowned out all conversation.

Though centuries ago this would have been impossible, the river had slowly narrowed, and when the walkways met, the river would be covered from bank to bank.

She observed her Master. Dankyo’s usual black suit set off that hint of menace that was his normal air. If she didn’t know what lay beneath… She smiled to herself, remembering their morning tussle—yes, more menace, but also someone who could laugh.

Odd how she’d become used to this. She would never become as subservient as a true slave, but she didn’t mind Dankyo taking charge most of the time, especially in the bedroom. She squeezed her thighs together, and the silken ropes running down between her legs shifted. This costume was making her so hot.

As the silk of her outfit ascended her body, it became a fine bodysuit covered in metallic threads with tiny diamonds strewn here and there. The branching spray cupping her breasts revealed more than concealed. She glanced down. The delicate silver coils of metal and gems atop her nipples glinted in the morning sunlight. And right now her nipples poked up like turrets. The one saving element was the opaque swishy skirt with interleaved swathes of material.

But beneath it, she seethed. She sighed and moved her feet apart. Whoever cleaned her clothing at the compound would find the crotch soaked. I am never ever visiting the laundry.

Metal clanged. A whistle blew. The crowd surged forward.

“Come, Sofia.” Dankyo beckoned. His gaze brushed across her breast area, then her face. “So red? Why is this?” He put his hand to her naked back where the electricity of his touch fired up another flood of wetness down below.

She peeked at him. Her voice came out rough. “Shouldn’t I stay behind you, Master?” Please? She was so aroused already that his scent, his nearness, and the way he dwarfed her made her want to pull his hand between her legs.

Am I in heat or something?

He linked his hands at her back, then leaned in and lightly kissed her forehead. “I like this costume. But today I’ll buy more accoutrements for you. Now, listen well. We are not just visiting the bazaar, we are also meeting a representative of the Ottoman.” She opened her mouth.

“Shh. I’m still speaking. We will meet on safe ground, so do not worry. However, remember that I will always be aware of you. You are clever, so if you have something to say, just beg permission, and say it. Okay?”

What would she need to say? “I solve puzzles and codes, not whatever this is about. But yes. I understand.”

“So enclosed in your world of study?” He squeezed her. “Never mind. Behind me now, please. The security detail will get to watch your ass. Not me, unfortunately.” His lips twitched.

She snorted. Men!

Four men were behind them, and three in front, plus Henry. Eight just to escort us to a bazaar? And this is safe?

The journey out onto the extended walkways led past many small shops. Every Saturday, the markets from the Byzantine and the Ottoman sides joined in the middle and people intermingled. Merchandise and money changed hands, as did goodwill, apparently. Half the people she saw seemed to be greeting old friends from the opposite side—joking about their purchases, tasting food, sharing coffee and sweets. Whatever would they do if the war recommenced in earnest and they found themselves firing upon their friends?

Dankyo bought clothes here and there, mostly for her. One costume was a fine skirt and sheer top with a forest represented in ochre-and-cherry embroidery that climbed up in a tangle of trees and foliage. The halter top ended in a subtle merging with a night sky. If, as always, her nipples were bared, at least it was pretty.

As Dankyo paid for it, she smoothed her hand over the fabric on the bench top.

“Have you seen what goes with this?” he whispered from behind her.

“No.” She half turned her head to see.

“These.” He pressed himself against her back, then held his hand before her eyes. Three ornaments with chains going to tiny clamps dangled from his hand. The first was a moon in silver. “This for your right nipple. This”—he held up a golden sun—“For your left. And this for your little clit.” From the last clamp swung a gold and silver cat.

Oh Lord. “A cat?” Stunned, she raised her brows.

“A pussy.”

His expression was bland, deliberately so. But she couldn’t help laughing.

“Master is joking, surely?”

“Master is not.” He jiggled the cat. “You laugh? I want your ass up here on the bench. Also part your skirt.”

No. Oh no. The blush must have shot from her cheeks to her toes. She shook her head an infinitesimal amount. But the implacable look on his face, and the way her pussy tightened at the thought… She shivered once. The idea had made her wet.

Then she inched back and with Dankyo lifting her under the arms, got herself on the bench. He was standing between her and the prying eyes of customers. He was watching her so carefully. Waiting. After one intake of air, she moved aside the cloth.

“Good girl, Sofia.”

But she shut her eyes and leaned back on her arms when he touched her. Feeling became everything. Her mind concentrated down, and the tip of his finger drew a slow circle on the top of her clit while his other finger and thumb held her below. She held her breath. The metal of the cat bumped her labia.

“I’m doing it now.” The touch of the clamp made her jump, and then the metal grasped her clit. “Too tight?”

It felt wonderful. Holding her down there, reminding her of her sex. With Dankyo touching her, and the public place he’d done this… Everything rolled together into such a deep, blossoming heat. She swallowed. Moisture seeped from her, and she could feel her labia swell.

“Sofia? Too tight?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Next is the meeting. Be good for me.” He kissed her nose, then her lips, gently moving them with his own.

“I will.” She opened her eyes and stared into his. If he wanted to take her there and then, she’d have lain back and spread her legs. But instead he pulled her skirt back into place and helped her down.

The walk to the final shop was only a short one. But the cat swung and possibly did back flips all the way. Her clit was so awake and expanded that every slight touch of the silk rope running between her legs had her aching.

Dankyo had threatened punishment if the tiny cat fell off and was lost. I’ll put something more painful on your clit if you lose it. The delicious threat made in that deep growly male voice had made things worse. She couldn’t stop thinking of that little weighted jewelry, swinging, tugging. She almost groaned when they halted.

EMPORIUM FOR SLAVE AND MASTER, declared the sign. This was a large shop. The waters of the Bosporus showed to either side like a moat, but the base of the shop covered a good thirty square yards. An awning shaded a table at the front with the back of the shop enclosed and entered via a canvas door.

Sofia studied the goods on the table. Shackles and bracelets, wrist and ankle cuffs in serious metal and brightly colored soft leather. Coiled whips, stands of floggers, knives, ropes, chains and varieties of small clamps like the ones Dankyo had bought, even—she shuddered—a set of needles with red bulbous heads. Of all the places to meet someone, it had to be this.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering what some of these things could do to a person…to her. As she leaned in to look closer, the little cat swung. She half closed her eyes and squirmed.

With a thunk Henry deposited a leather bag on the counter in front of the woman who seemed to be the shop’s owner.

“You’re Fire Annie?” Henry asked. She nodded. “I’m Henry Twine, and I have a business proposition for you.” His mouth twitched. The determined look on his face seemed contradicted by the rapid tattoo he beat on the table with two fingers. “Interested?”

“What?” She grinned. “You’ll need to give me some details, little man.”

Henry went pinkish. “Oh. ’Course.” He ran a hand over his close-shorn gray hair, then took hold of the bag and pulled it open. The first device he removed was another of the buzzing lightning things like the one Dankyo had used on Sofia’s clit.

The memories of what that thing had done to her made everything close in around her, and Sofia couldn’t bear to look away.

“There’s this,” he declared.

“Ah-huh.” Eyebrows arched up into her hairline, Fire Annie stared down at the device, then shrugged.

With her hard-ass attitude and her rough yet sturdy garb of leather pants, dusty coat, shirt, and black boots, Fire Annie looked as if he could beat Henry hands down in any combat devised. She’d snap his wrist if they tried arm wrestling. Blonde ponytail swinging, she grabbed a chair and sat. Then she dragged another closer.

“Okay, Henry, sit in that chair and talk. Tell me what this does.”

“Umm.” Slowly he sank into the chair, his face going redder by the second. “It’s a, uh, sexual device.”

“Well.” Fire Annie plonked her elbows down on the table to cup her face and waggled her eyebrows. “Keep going.”

The exchange had Sofia riveted. Henry, the man who made exquisite sexual torture devices, was embarrassed? She couldn’t wait to see where this went.

“Inside, Miss Sticky Beak.” Dankyo coaxed her with bent finger.

Darn. She reluctantly followed him through the doorway.

It was darker. The timber underfoot swayed with the rocking of the river, and she could hear the little waves lapping below and the mild creak of the joints.

Sunlight filtered through the roof of the tent. In the center was a collapsible table, and around it a series of strange man-high metal frames.

“Do you know what all this is, Sofia?” He ran his hand over the padded metal of a frame. When she shook her head, he continued. “Most of these devices are for strapping a slave to. Perhaps to beat her well. Perhaps to take pleasure from her. Perhaps even to give her pleasure.”

Well, if her eyes weren’t big, they were now. She didn’t blink much as she examined each of them. The one Dankyo rested his hand on had a long, padded section that curved slightly back up to neck high where a narrow piece extended higher and a pair of cuffs were attached. At the bottom it split into a Y that reached to the ground.

Dankyo stepped up to her and swept her hair back on one side. He softly stroked the whorl of her ear as he spoke from inches away. “Can you see the cuffs for your wrists at the top, and for your ankles at the bottom?”

She found she’d held her breath, and with a slow shudder, released it. “Yes.”

A faint whistle sounded, and he moved back. “He’s here. Kneel, please.”

She did, though the timber hurt her knees. “What do I do?

“Shh.”

The canvas flap opened, and a man entered. He beat Dankyo’s height by at least six inches. His blond hair was short and tinged with darker coloring. Though his skin was as olive as an Ottoman’s, he wore a dark gray suit and tie like some Byzantine businessman.

“Sir. I know you from your reputation and, of course, my acquaintances identified you. You may call me Agrif.” He shook Dankyo’s hand but jerked his chin at Sofia. “A slave? You trust her to stay silent if questioned?”

Dankyo stepped away. “She is trustworthy. As much as I am.”

“Ah. Good. Then to business. I’m only here as long as I must be.” New voices outside made him switch a sharp glance that way. “I had followers. We must pretend to discuss merchandise.”

“Very well.” Dankyo looked at Sofia and studied her face long enough to make her wonder what he was thinking. “Let us test out some of the paddles and floggers, and perhaps if we still need time, some of the other equipment. Her sounds of pleasure will confuse any listeners.”

“Excellent idea.”

The words struck. Lord. With this other man watching? Her cheeks heated, and she shifted her knees. The little cat squeaked on its hinge. “Sofia. Come here.”

She rose and went to him. He reached around and gathered her skirt until she felt the coolness of air touching her bare cheeks. Then he drew the divided skirt to the front and loosely, slowly, knotted it together. She bit her lip, then swayed. How easily he commanded her.

His next order was quiet. “Get up on the table. I want you on your knees, head down, facing away.”

No please. Just an order. But, his eyes questioned. She remembered—she could beg to speak. The blue eyes of the stranger, Agrif, assessed her also, and not as a slave, but as a woman. Two men, watching her. Sounds seemed muffled. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Should I do this?

This wasn’t so different from the dinner party. That had been amazing. She shut her eyes and remembered his words at the airship.

“This is Byzantium, where no one will know if you surrender yourself to me… Sofia, will you let me take you to the edge and beyond?”

Her decision came to her. Yes, oh yes, I will.

She climbed onto the table, shaking but already terribly aroused. The timber table was hard and cold when she put her forehead to it. She waited, and waited, for the first blow.

Without further talk, with only the sound of their shoes on the timber and of some object being picked up, he began. The blows, at first, were not blows at all. Leather caressed her, dragging down her back, flicking at her buttocks, caressing her slit.

“Damn, she is wet there.” From where he spoke, she could tell the stranger stood to one side, watching.

Dankyo grunted. The flicks turned to swats, the swats turned into heavier smacks. As he’d said, though, he tested one flogger after another, one paddle after another. Her skin heated, her body rocked, and she leaned her ass back into the strikes. Stinging pain built and spread like wildfire to her groin. Her puckered nipples scraped on the table, and small sounds huffed out past her lips. The little silver-and-gold cat moved also, and by the time Dankyo ceased hitting her, she was so close to orgasm she was gritting her teeth. Pleasure throbbed into her flesh.

“Here, Sofia.” A man took her arm, helped her off the table. Who was this?

Dankyo. She panted, dazed, and gripped his hand to steady herself.

“You have her? Need another hand? No? Make sure she doesn’t fall. Such a beautiful woman you have there, sir.” The stranger’s voice seemed background noise only.

Dankyo held her to his chest and said ever so quietly to her ear. “Now I’m going to make you come, my lady. Unless…”

Unless? She swallowed, considered his words for a few seconds to understand them, then nodded. Whatever he wanted to do to her, she desired it also. Her body screamed for release.

They strapped her to the frame with the Y at the bottom. The curve of the padded back meant she couldn’t see her lower body. It also left her head and hands at a man’s chest level.

“Hold her wrists to the padding please, Agrif.”

Why, she wondered. I’m already fastened here. Then Agrif went behind her, and she looked up at him. With his large frame just there, standing over her, then the heavy immovable press of his hands on her wrists… The knowledge of her helplessness hit her. She sank like a stone to the bottom of a pond.

To her front, Dankyo eyed her, stern, male, and now she was his to pleasure. He came closer, between her legs. As if he owned them, he ran his palm slowly over her nipples. His callouses were rough, yet she sucked in air and arched, unable to control her longing.

“Not much longer, little one. I like this distraction your Master has devised.” The stranger smiled down at her. “I think he means you to remember this time, though.”

She shuddered and pulled against his hold. Nothing. Her ankles had some give, but not where Agrif pinned her wrists in the circle of his fist. Another shudder took her, and her slit moistened further.

Finger sliding dead center down her belly, then onto her mound, Dankyo went to his knees, lowered his head. Now she couldn’t see him at all and could only feel. Like the lightest feather, his tongue touched her clit.

Molten heat traveled lightning speed up her body, spreading. She writhed, pressing forward, but his tongue kept dabbing, circling, torturing.

He stopped. “Her nipples too, sir.”

“With pleasure.” Agrif used his free hand to shift aside the diamante strands. He pulled on her left nipple until it ached in time with the beat of blood through her clit. “Let me try the other.” The deep rumble of his voice penetrated her. Pain built as he tweaked harder, and pinched and pulled. Both nipples were on fire, and she whimpered.

“Now,” Agrif directed.

Dankyo slid his fingers between her folds, slipping into her wet pussy, up, up, higher, until he touched that place inside that lit her up in an instant. Thighs straining forward, her wrists turning in Agrif’s hard hold, she gasped and sobbed. Though she wanted to come, ever so desperately wanted, the presence of the stranger kept her from the brink. Her gasps and pants turned into squeals. Her whole body writhed in the unyielding grip of the device.

“If you don’t get her there, soon she’ll combust.” The amusement in Agrif’s voice seemed so distant.

“I know. Hold her down more.”

The fingers inside her stroked faster, flicking across the intense spot. At the same time Dankyo released the clamp, then sucked her clit into his mouth. He hummed and licked at her. Agrif leaned over her, laid the full weight of his forearm over her chest and his head in the angle of her neck.

“We have you. Come, woman.” The low vibrations of his command, the glorious soft wetness below, then a final long swipe of Dankyo’s tongue over her swollen nub… Ecstasy grabbed her and threw her into a roaring tumult. Whiteness, pleasure, bliss, poured over her, through her, and into every inch of her body, shaking her loose from her place in reality.

As if she were raised from some underwater sleep, sound slowly returned. The lub dub of her laboring heart and the rhythmic gasp and pant of her breathing welcomed her back.

As he released the cuffs, Dankyo kissed her. She curled into him when he sat. Then he simply patted her while he whispered nothing words in her ear. The world reasserted itself—sounds, smells, her place in it, and the harsh touch of Dankyo’s suit on the bare skin of her ass. After leaving for a moment, the stranger came close and talked a while. She listened but barely understood.

“The assassin of the ambassador was not us. Look to someone closer to the emperor-bey.”

“The Heraklos?”

“Likely, very likely.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know. Perhaps he was sent to discredit them. But remember this. History is just that, history. We no longer want war. Business is good. Let the zealots have their play—it keeps our minorities happy. We will do anything for peace. Anything.”

Silence. He’d gone.

Next Henry’s voice sounded. Still she stayed quiet on Dankyo’s lap. Until he asked her to get up, she wanted to stay where she lay.

“So, did your sale go well, then?”

“Yes, sir. Fire Annie’s going to take a small shipment of everything.”

“Good. Tell me. How is your copy of the warrior coming along?”

“It’s never going to be a proper weapon. I can’t get the internal decision making working. In a battle there are too many things happening. He’ll make a great present for the Emp, though.”

“The emperor-bey? I had thought him too dangerous for that.”

“Nope. You wait. I’ll show you. He’s going to be a regular warrior clock.”

Whatever was a warrior clock? Her professional curiosity stirred.

“Perhaps. Later, though, Henry. Leave us, please.”

“’Course, sir.”

He stepped away, and the door slapped closed.

The room seemed empty of others. She sighed and lifted her head, blinked up at Dankyo’s brown eyes.

“Happy, my lady?”

She nodded, then rested her head against him to hear his heart. So male, so right. She never wanted to move again.

Chapter Seventeen

On the way back to the river’s edge, when Dankyo stopped to purchase something at a small café, she waited on the welcome mat. Across the way, on a deserted island of decking, was a stall where a bald Byzantine man sat cross-legged on a rug. He was using tools on a toy metal car. She ventured over, her four black-suited guards checking the vicinity and suspiciously eyeing those passing by as if they might sprout guns or horns.

When they were going to Fire Annie’s, she’d seen this bald man raising a tool and doing an odd salute as if he knew Dankyo.

Only a yard past the man’s spot was one of the pools of open water where the walkways hadn’t covered the river. A duck cruised through water weeds, leaving a trail of ripples before it swam out of sight between the pontoons.

A basket of blue and red marching toy soldiers made Sofia smile. She picked one up, but the movement of its legs made him slip from her fingers. He hit the timber guard rail beside the water and flipped up into the air, spinning, reflecting glints of light. His destination—straight into the water.

“Oh.” She gasped, but there was no time to catch him.

A golden something whirred past, zipped its head out through the guard rails, and snapped up the toy soldier.

Next second, she had a…a metal dog sitting at her feet with the toy in its mouth. Dog? No. Cat? Porcupine? She took in the many finger-length blunt spines around its neck and the struts and greenish brass plates making up the clockwork creature’s body. What in the Lord’s name was it?

It panted at her, unrolled a foot-long silver segmented tongue, and dropped the soldier at her feet. The clock-dog collapsed onto its two forelegs and rolled its purple glass eyes. Balls of voltaic electricity spun about inside the glass.

“How quaint,” she murmured.

How did it function? Was it…thinking? Surely not? There was something strangely familiar about much of its construction. Tentatively she reached out and stroked its head. Long segmented rods knitted together to make the skin. As she touched it, they raised up here and there in writhing spines that waved an inch in the air before nestling back into place on the skin.

The bald man clicked his teeth together, then spoke. “I made him from the clockies I scavenged. And some other bits and pieces. I call him a clockie dog. He looks like one, don’t you think?”

The clockie dog whirred at her, then nudged the toy soldier closer to her with its nose, and then even closer with its silver tongue. Absentmindedly she picked up the toy man by one leg.

Weird and cute but from the clockies? All those long metal rods making up its skin were clockie legs. Like a spidery, doggy…thing.

“Yuck.” She straightened, wrinkled her nose. “How does he think?”

The thing twisted its head one way, then the other. Then eyed the toy again.

“Ahh, his thinking is secret. Big secret. He wants to play catch and fetch with you.”

“He does?” Even weirder.

“Sofia!” Dankyo took her arm, shot the bald man a frown, then pulled her with him as he strode away. “What were you doing? Don’t ever do that again. Here, in Byzantium, there are dangers you do not appreciate.”

The sudden criticism left her hurt. She’d thought talking to a man with all her guards watching would be safe.

A boy in cream shorts and ragged top sprinted through the guards, spun between her and another, and then was off again. When a guard snagged his sleeve, he twisted from his shirt and slipped loose. Now bare-chested, the boy tumbled free. He vanished into the thick, milling crowd.

“Damn,” Dankyo said quietly.

A shred of something had been crammed into Sofia’s hand. The paper crackled as she slowly uncrumpled it. The black letters on the white background leaped into her head. Nonsensical arrangement. No words. But her logical brain sorted the possible code combinations. No one wrote like that. Nonsense meant something, almost always. Tens of thousands of possibilities rolled past. Flick flick flick. Ah.

Five yards on, she stopped, mouth gaping as meaning flowered. Then she yanked Dankyo’s sleeve.

“What?” He swung his gaze toward her, then saw the paper. “What?”

“There is a bomb at the toy makers!” She turned as she spoke, and caught sight of the man on his mat. And the toy soldier hung from her pointing hand—she’d not put him back. She let it go. The clockie dog leaped up and grabbed the toy.

Don’t meddle so much. The last part of the note reverberated in her head.

From somewhere near the bald man, a shrill whistle pierced the air. A sphere of blue voltaic electricity crackled to life in the basket that held the toys.

At her feet, the clockie dog gathered its legs, the toy clutched in its strange gold teeth.

“Bomb!” screamed Dankyo. “Bomb!”

People dropped and threw themselves down.

As Dankyo’s hands grappled at her waist, she dived toward the clockie dog and fastened her fist about one hind leg. Her face, arm, and shoulder hit the decking at the same time as the world erupted, blowing a sizzling wave of writhing blueness toward her, crackling on the nose of the clockie dog and dissipating. A last blue fuzz snapped at the air and then…gone.

Where the man and his stall had been was a burned circle. Melted metal lay among small fires. People climbed to their feet. No one seemed to have died, though a few coughed and staggered. Her ears rang with silence, and then sound filtered back in. The bald man was nowhere to be seen.

“Where?” She pushed herself to her feet. Her dainty clothes were blackened with some fine residue. The clockie dog sprang upright and trotted over to the remains of the stall. Sniffing and whirring, it checked out everything, then sat on its haunches.

Sofia frowned. Did it look lost? “Where is the man?”

“Sofia.” Dankyo dragged her round to face him. “Forget him. We are leaving.”

He gave her no choice. The march back to the limousine was fast and brutal. People who got in the way were elbowed aside. But Sofia had time to think. The note’s message, the salute from the toy maker, the secret meeting at Fire Annie’s—like puzzle clues, they added up. The man had been killed because of something Dankyo, and maybe she, had done.

As the limo door opened and Dankyo gestured for her to enter, the clockie dog walked from beneath her feet, toy man in its mouth. Those odd sizzling purple eyes peered up at her.

“Hey! No!” Dankyo made as if to kick the thing away, but she hoisted it into the car. Metal bits clattered. As the dog slid across the leather seat, limbs sprawling, the toy again dropped from its mouth.

“Sofia, that thing could be dangerous. It is not coming.” He dragged it out by one leg and dumped it on the pavement.

“Oh, Dankyo.” She cocked her head and stared at it while it stared at her. “Please?”

“No. In.”

He pushed her in and slammed the door, then ran around to the other side and opened his door. Quickly, she opened her side and tossed the little soldier back out. The clockie dog slowly picked it up. The toy draped across its mouth like a tiny lifeless man. A long whippy rod on the clockie dog’s rump wagged.

She hadn’t noticed that before. “Oh God. No. You have a tail?”

“Sofia!” Dankyo leaned across and yanked the door shut, then thumped on the divider. “Drive, man!”

They accelerated away.

“Cruel.” She shook her head. Her lower lip trembled. A man had died back there, hadn’t he? And they’d left his poor pet thing behind.

“It’s a made thing. Metal and clockworks. We can’t keep it, dear.” Dankyo laid his hand on her cheek, pulled her into his side, and caressed her. “I’m sorry. It could be another bomb.”

“No. It would have exploded already. But I understand.” She did. But then why did she feel so sad?

The rocking and jarring as the vehicle drove along slowly helped her to unwind. She snuggled into Dankyo, and her mind started ticking through what had happened. “Is he dead?”

“The toy maker?”

“Yes…the man on the rug who was a part of whatever spy network you had set up.”

Dankyo was quiet for a few seconds. “Not mine. He was looking out for Fire Annie. She’s like an interconnection between the Ottomans and whoever on this side needs to talk to them. I don’t know if he’s dead.” With his knuckle beneath, he angled up her chin, then looked into her eyes. “I just needed you, us, out of a dangerous situation. Understand?”

She nodded, then swallowed. “Is there some way to find out? He was so nice.” A thought occurred to her. “If he was on our side, not some enemy, then that creature he made won’t be dangerous.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” He clucked his tongue.

Under her cheek, she felt the slow heave of his chest and smelled his deep scent. Dankyo was so solid, so real, she doubted anything could harm him. But panic clutched her heart for a second. Please, no. I couldn’t take it if he was hurt.

“Perhaps it’s not dangerous,” he added. “It never hurts to be careful, though.”

It had hurt him, though—the clock-dog. She tried, and failed, to figure out why she cared what happened to a mishmash of clockwork parts.

“Now. Tell me how you knew there was a bomb.”

Strange how she’d forgotten that. All the messy crazy stuff had distracted her. “Um. The note. The boy who ran through gave it to me. It was in code, but I worked out what it meant.” She thought back. “It said something like, there’s a bomb at the toy maker, and then it said, stop meddling.”

“Meddling?” He stared at the back of the driver’s seat. “There are implications here that I don’t like. Someone knows about you and your puzzle-solving ability. And they think you’re somehow meddling, but in what? If the bomb was a killing device, then they aimed to help you also.” He let out a long breath, peered down at her. “What do you make of this?”

Me? What do I think of all this spy stuff? But, she solved puzzles. Was this too a sort of puzzle? She’d never really applied herself to something like this. She thought through it all.

“There’s so many permutations. It seems unlikely to be the Ottomans. Could it be meant to stop you interfering in affairs between the emperor-bey and the Ottomans?”

“That was my conclusion too, Miss Sofia. But also, who planted the bomb? And how does the person who wrote the note relate to them?”

Oh. She’d not figured that bit. Maybe people were too complicated for her?

“As for the man and whether he died”—he squeezed her shoulder—“I’ll be making enquiries. There was no body. It’s possible he escaped into the river.”

Possible, but even she wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want anyone else dying because of something I might have done.” She sniffed. Tears were ridiculous, but her hands were trembling too.

“Oh, Sofia.” The smile he gave her was a little sad, a little incredulous. “I’m sorry you are upset by this, but it is unavoidable. There’s too much at stake. I just hope no enemy has discovered what you really aim to do here. I want to keep you safe. I want us all safe. Just remember to say if you want this to stop…if you want to go home. Because I’ll board the next airship in an instant. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Then he pulled her to him, kissed her once on the lips, and held her that way until they arrived at the compound.

She thought a while as they drove. This is the second time today I’ve cuddled up to Dankyo.

She’d never heard of him as a caring man. They’d told her he was a hard taskmaster, an unforgiving, stick-to-the-rule-book-or-die sort of person. Had the rumors been that wrong? The alternative crept up on her and stayed in her mind all the way back. Has he changed because of me?

When she opened the door and stepped out, a clunk and rattle from under the car made her crouch to look. The clock-dog was untangling his limbs. He got to his feet and shook out all his joints in a metal shimmy and whirr. His tongue flopped out, reaching hallway to the ground. Then he leaped forward and circled her legs several times in a whip-fast spin of legs and body.

“Damnation.” Dankyo had come round the end of the limousine. He reached under his coat. “How?”

She couldn’t stop her mouth curving into a lopsided smile. “I think he was clinging on under the car somehow.” The long shape of the revolver emerged as Dankyo pulled it from inside his coat. She stepped sideways to shield the clock-dog, then scooped him up. “No. You can’t! He’s harmed no one.”

“No?” Eyes dark, Dankyo stepped up to her, seized the creature by the neck, and jiggled him. “If I say he’s unsafe, he’s unsafe. Let me take him. Now.”

Mouth trembling, tears brimming on her eyelids, she released her hold. “Please.”

He clicked his fingers and gave the clock-dog to the guard who came forward. Though it wriggled in his arms, he held it tight enough to stop any escape.

“Please?” Only one possible way to appeal to Dankyo surfaced. She dropped to her knees and fingered his trousers at the knee, blinking up through watery eyes.

Head shaking side to side, mouth set, he examined her, then gave the clock-dog a long look. “I’ll do this much. Henry will look at him. We will abide by his decision. Satisfied?”

Surely Henry would see the thing wasn’t dangerous? A smile spread. “Yes, thank you.” Then she added softly, overcome by evil inspiration, “Shall I kiss your feet now? But no, they are too smelly after all the walking today. Your knee?” With both arms, she hugged his knee and grinned.

“What?” Slowly Dankyo squatted down to her level. He fisted her hair, screwing his fingers in tight enough to hurt just a little. “I’ll take this out on your butt later.”

A frisson of delight swept her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” With his hand still tight as a steel knot in her hair, he kissed her thoroughly—enough to leave her breathless and her groin throbbing. When he stopped, his deep brown eyes held her as much as his fist did—seeming to delve into her very soul. She shuddered, sinking, sent floundering by the depth of his control.

Oh. She so wanted his hand between her legs.

The rest of the day was reserved for the palace. Though security seemed a little tighter and the number of soldiers at the gate might have been more by five or ten, it was as if the bomb were a mere blip on the horizon. The trek through the palace corridors was the same—Xiang escorted her, and the iron-faced woman with the bun came too. The Clockwork Warrior had, of course, not changed at all.

She stared at him. But I mean to make you change. Again, her instincts urged her to do. To do what she knew down to the last microcosm of her flesh was the way to solve his puzzle.

“No,” she whispered. If nothing else, university had taught her how to be thorough. She would catalog every detail of him before she attempted anything. A week or so, then she would be ready.

Lunch came around too soon. She sat outside the tomb on a picnic blanket with Xiang, gnawing on roasted chicken and eating fresh-baked bread. It seemed so strange and so normal at the same time. A flock of green parrots flew overhead, and she watched them wing across, screeching at each other. “So pretty. I’d much rather see these than birds in a cage.”

“Oh?” Xiang wrenched another bite off her drumstick and swallowed. She looked skyward with a thoughtful expression on her face. “So you find birds beautiful?”

“Don’t you?” How could anyone not? “The colors of their feathers, their smallness, the brilliance of their design even.”

“Design?” Xiang cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes!” The chicken leg Sofia was using to point suddenly seemed ridiculous. Chickens were birds, after all. “Um. You know, the way all their parts fit together and let them fly so elegantly.”

“Ahhh. Yes. Good design, I understand.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and her hand on her pants, then picked up her scabbard and slid the sword half out. “This weapon has been my partner in a thousand fights and has never failed me. This is good design too.”

“Yes, I suppose.” The gulf between her way of seeing birds and Xiang’s had grown larger. “I should let you see the sketches Dankyo does of birds. Watercolors of them skimming the river.” The brightness in Xiang’s eyes showed promise. Perhaps she too liked art?

She slammed the sword home, then placed it carefully on the grass. “Yes. I should like to see those.”

“Good.” Now she’d just have to remember to ask Dankyo for a few to bring next time.

The parrots had stopped calling out. Quiet settled.

“How is your new boyfriend?’ It seemed as good a conversation ploy as any. Sofia propped herself back on her arms and waited.

“Mmm.” Xiang screwed up her face. “Not so good. He seems to be more interested in other women.”

“Oh. Not good.”

“I don’t hold much hope for us.” Her gaze centered over Sofia’s shoulder. “Ah. Here we are. Your new instructor in how a slave should behave. The emperor-bey thought it best to do at least a little training in case the Janissary of the Gardens tests you. The janissaries hold much political power. We don’t want to upset them.”

Suppressing a groan, Sofia looked behind her. A young woman in a figure-hugging blue silk dress came toward them along the path leading to the entrance to the huge garden. As she walked past, swaying sensuously, her raven-black hair swished across her bottom.

She lowered herself to her knees, then bowed, palms on the paving stones. “Guard Xiang. Lady Sofia. Greetings.”

Lady? The woman knows I’m not a slave? Confused, she looked at Xiang.

“Be calm, lady. This one knows. None in the harem can tell your secret to any except the emperor-bey. You are safe. Now.” She rose and dusted her hands on the seat of her leggings. “Tansu is here to teach you. Please let her do so. Tansu, up and teach Sofia all about being a good slave.” She smiled thinly. “I need to do my sword katas, but I will watch to make sure your results are good.”

Tansu blushed and bowed low again, her forehead to the ground. “Thank you. I shall be good in my duties.”

“Of course you will.” After unsheathing her sword with a flourish, Xiang sauntered off.

Seeing Tansu still frozen with her head down, Sofia went to her. “Come. I won’t bite.” Whatever this woman was supposed to teach, she may as well learn it. Like anything here, there seemed hidden undercurrents. If she did this wrong, perhaps the woman would suffer? The rest from studying was welcome in any case. But if she went at the puzzle too madly, her head would suffer.

She put a hand on the woman’s upper arm. “Teach me.”

One amber eye peeked up at her as Tansu angled her head. Then she sat back on her heels and smiled shyly. “I shall.”

Half an hour of instruction in kneeling and bowing, and she had down pat all of what Tansu wished her to learn for the day. Though the hand signs were new, the main differences between what she taught and Dankyo’s instructions were only a matter of speed and gracefulness. The beaming smile Sofia earned from that warmed her like a drink of hot chocolate. Another friend, perhaps?

“Might I ask how you came to be here, Tansu?”

“Oh. Myself?” Tansu looked about as if to check the whereabouts of Xiang. “I was captured. My family left me behind. I was a daughter of an Ottoman zealot. My punishment for being a daughter of a criminal is to serve the emperor-bey.”

“Ah.” Punishment? Did serving mean what she thought? Of course it does, stupid. Being the emperor-bey’s enemy had ramifications she’d never considered. Though perhaps serving in his harem beat being beheaded? She’d heard that was the end of many criminals here. But declared a criminal because your parents did something wrong… How goddamned awful.

The plight of Tansu kept her mind churning all the way home, until Dankyo took her into their room, kicked the door shut, and ordered her to strip.

That woke her. From the shape of his trousers, the man had an erection to rival a very naughty stone statue.

He raised an eyebrow, and she felt herself stir with lust. How can I not? The misery of the day fell away. I’m his. He wants me. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” She took off her panties, sure the hint of her nakedness under the material of her mist-pink skirt would tantalize him.

“Did I say to take your underclothes off first?” The rock-rumbling baritone paralyzed her.

“No,” she squeaked.

“Crawl to the bed on your knees and present your bare ass to me.”

Oh. God. Her slit moistened instantly.

But…crawl? Her mouth dropped open. She stared back at him for all of two seconds. He wasn’t budging. The need to break from the hold of his gaze overwhelmed her, and she looked at the floor. Yet knowing he watched her and had seen her look away… Warmth trickled through her, turning her thoughts upside down. Last time he’d ordered her to do this had been at the landing field.

And I hated it. Now, though…

The last flicker of her pride protested that this was demeaning. Yet not doing as he asked would have killed her. She crawled. The journey left her so ready to be taken. With her head on the quilt, and her eyes closed, she moaned when he first touched her butt.

“Good girl.” He wrapped his hand around her neck and bit the muscle at the top, where her nape met her hair. She melted. She sank forever into the quilt, mind blank, limp and only distantly aware of him taking her wrists in his and binding them together.

Chapter Eighteen

On her return from the palace the next afternoon, Dankyo escorted her to Henry’s workshop. The copy of the Clockwork Warrior stood there in the center of the floor, though now he appeared repaired. She couldn’t resist circling him, noting the differences and wondering if this was how the real warrior would look if made to stand.

“The steam funnels are gone?” She moved back, not looking where she trod. A stray tool on the floor made her half trip.

“Careful.” Dankyo steadied her by her elbow.

The door to the small office slammed. Henry walked over, cradling a wriggling cloth bundle. “The steam was more for an operational battlefield warrior. I’ve given up on that idea.”

“Ah.” She pursed her mouth. “I saw a winding hole on him. Yes?” What in the world did Henry carry? Hope kindled.

“Correct. He’s fully clockwork now, plus there’s a small voltaic battery that I had installed to quick start the steam engine.” Henry stopped a few feet away and tugged at the cloth. “Here, I’ve checked him over. He’s safe, as far as I can tell without thoroughly dissecting him.” The last fold of cloth fell away.

The little clockie dog squirmed in Henry’s arms, flopped onto the floor with a clank and clatter, then shook himself. His purple eyes flared to life, and he trotted over to Sofia and sat on his haunches. The whippy metal tail swept to and fro across the floor, scattering dust and sending a large spring bouncing and jingling. He promptly spun around and chased it down, bringing it back to Sofia and dropping it at her feet.

“No!” Henry snatched up the spring. “My special spring! Bad dog!”

The clock dog uncurled his silver tongue, then looked expectantly from Henry to Sofia as if wondering when the game would start.

She grinned down at him. “I have to think of a name for him. Clive? Cloggie?”

“Cloggie? Don’t you dare.” Dankyo growled. “How about Daisywaisy?”

“What?” Incredulous, she turned to him. The effect of the ruler-straight line of his mouth was ruined by the twinkle in his eye.

“Oh!” She mock-punched his arm. Her knuckle twinged with pain, and she shook her hand. “Ow!”

Dankyo caught her wrist and tugged her to him.

“Ouchies. God. You’re too hard.”

“Really?” Smiling, he kissed her knuckles, then hugged her. “What a compliment.”

“You think so?” Men. She turned in his arms. “So what do I call him? We are keeping him, aren’t we?” Oh. The toy maker. Black thoughts tumbled in on top of the happier ones. “What about his owner? Have they found him?”

For a second Dankyo stopped breathing. “Yes. They dredged up a body from the river. I’m sorry.”

A shiver coursed through her. Dead. It seemed so wrong.

He hugged her tighter, then kissed her neck. “So you can keep him, yes. Whoever gave you that note was trying to help you. And the clockwork critter here is therefore unlikely to be aimed at us, or dangerous.”

“Thank you.” She patted his forearm and held it a little while to absorb some of his warm strength. Frowning, she tried to figure out a name that fit. The inside of the clockwork dog’s glass eyes crackled with purple spinning tornadoes. The longer she stared at him, the louder became a whining noise that arose somewhere inside him.

“Coco? Bouncer? Zigzag? Yes, that’s kind of like Ticktock.” She pointed. “Zigzag, you are.”

Zigzag tilted his head as if analyzing her, then trotted over to snap at the spring hanging from Henry’s hand.

“Whoops! No!” Henry frowned. “Dang it, this is an experimental spring.”

Dankyo shifted on his feet, rasping his shirt across the fine chiffon of Sofia’s tunic. “A spring is a spring, Henry. You can give it to him.”

“No it’s not. Look.” Briskly Henry walked to a set of steps on wheels. He placed the spring at the top, then gave it a nudge. Slowly, like a giant metal inchworm gone wrong, it wobbled and sprang down the steps, one end after the other. Though Zigzag dashed over, mouth open, Henry picked the spring up from before his nose. The clock dog skidded past.

“Ha. Fooled you.” He smiled. “You know, this Zigzag dog thing was pining for you, Miss Sofia.”

“Oh?” She wriggled loose from within Dankyo’s arms. “Why do you say that?”

“He’s been trying to get away from me the whole time I had him. But now he’s happy while in your vicinity. Look at him.”

Zigzag was sniffing in a vague circle about her feet. She sucked on the inside of her cheek and offered him her foot. Though he chomped on it for a second with his golden teeth, he was gentle and let her shoe go, then sat and stared at the spring in Henry’s hand.

“He is pretty happy.” She shrugged. “What do you call that spring?”

He clucked his tongue for a moment. Then his eyebrows rose into his hair. “An automatic walking spring? Maybe?”

“Hah.” Dankyo laughed. “Henry, you need to take a class in naming your devices. I recall that reciprocating probe name not going down too well with the ladies.”

Lord. Sofia didn’t look up. The burn across her cheeks would have rivaled the heat at the center of the sun. How could he?

Behind her Dankyo’s footsteps crunched closer. He enfolded her again in his arms and rocked her a little. “Have you totally disarmed the Clockwork Warrior replica? Apart from those time-telling antics he runs through each hour?”

“Totally?” Thank goodness, Henry sounded bemused and not at all interested in the talk about the reciprocating probe. “Not yet. I need to take out the mechanism in his head. Of course, if he’s not wound up, he’ll run down very fast anyway.”

Even if Henry was distracted, she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Dankyo might as well have put a sign on her head.

“Not yet?” Dankyo had that tone of mild disapproval in his voice. At least it was Henry suffering and not her. “If you accidentally turn the emperor-bey into a pin cushion, you may start a war.”

“I will? Really? Goodness gracious me.”

“Between you and Miss Egghead here, it’s a wonder the world hasn’t fallen apart.”

Miss Egghead? She’d had enough of that from her brothers and her father. She elbowed him. “That’s a stupid joke.”

Chuckling, he reached down and pinched her rear end, hard, making her squeak. “Stupid? And that was not a good move, elbowing me. But thank you, my lady. I needed an excuse to pinch you.”

“I meant that!” She fumed and drew her elbow forward to poke him again.

“Uh-uh.” Without much effort he trapped her arm against her side, then murmured low and growly right beside her earlobe. “Feeling feisty are we? I knew you were bad.”

A shiver ran through her all the way down to her toes. He insults me, threatens punishment, and yet I still like it in some weird way? She shook her head at herself. What am I becoming?

The way Dankyo constantly touched her made her feel like his possession. Deliberate? Yes, surely. His arms cocooned her, his breath warmed her neck, and his dark, male scent seemed to penetrate deep into her flesh.

What would it be like to not have him around again? The emptiness that would bring. How would she bear it?

But, did he actually think of her as an egghead? A hollow feeling sank into her stomach. Maybe that was why he’d said nothing of their future? She wasn’t really that much of a catch, was she? An egghead, and living off a university stipend until this government job came through. Solving puzzles must seem trivial to a man used to war.

Chapter Nineteen

Each day thereafter, Zigzag became more and more attached to her until she would sometimes trip over him when she turned from looking out a window.

Most days, Dankyo made love to her—sometimes tender, sometimes rough, and making her beg for every iota of pleasure he gave her. Sometimes he took her to the very edge and left her there exhausted, panting, sweating, with red marks on her flesh. Afterward, she’d lie upon the bed spread-eagled, with her mind and body blown apart by whatever he’d chosen to do to her.

He’d be there next to her, toying with her hair and stroking her as she came back to life. Sometimes there’d be a little frown on his forehead, as if he worried about her, or perhaps about their future.

She prayed ever so hard that it was their future, because the man who was too dangerous to let into her heart had somehow captured it entirely.

I surrender. I’m yours for eternity, she wanted to announce. Corny, but true.

But why did he not say this? She’d tried, but she couldn’t. She feared his no. What did she have to offer a man who had found his place in life fifteen years ago? Besides, he was the most forthright man she knew. If he didn’t say anything, she knew without a doubt she was just a passing amusement.

The only weakness Dankyo showed was at night while asleep. Several times she’d been woken by him shouting out loud. The twitching of his face and mumbled words made her sure he suffered nightmares like he had on the airship. She’d tried again to shake him awake, and the acute look of terror in his brown eyes when he looked up had made her heart falter. She’d not dared since. Whatever demons haunted him never surfaced in the daytime anyway. Soldiers would have more than their fair share of bad memories.

On Tuesday night, they arrived on the outer wall of the compound to watch the weekly bombardment of Byzantium by the Ottoman.

Sofia stepped up to the chest-high rampart. The stone was cold and gritty under her fingers. Bolt marks on the floor, and the wide gap to her right were signs of an old cannon mounting. The only functioning weapon emplacements left in the wall were a story below. Dankyo had said their small caliber was only intended to repel boat attacks. She went up on her toes, peered over, and spotted the weapons. At the far corners, three gun barrels on bulky turrets protruded past the line of the wall.

The dark band below was the river. Others had decided to have a late picnic on the wall. Farther along, to her left, couples and groups clinked glasses and murmured in quiet conversation. A whine and hoarse clicking at her feet told her Zigzag was there.

“Hey, boy. How’s it going?”

Though the clockwork creature surely couldn’t think very well, he was as loyal as any real dog, maybe more so. Why he’d attached himself to her was a puzzle even she hadn’t yet solved.

“He’s starting to follow me too sometimes.” In the evening quiet, Dankyo kept his voice low.

“Oh?” She scratched at the loose rock under her hand. “I’m almost done, you know?”

She glanced across at him where he’d settled next to her, his folded arms resting on the top of the stone. The last light showed wind riffling the top of his black close-cut hair. The navy frock coat, silver tie, and stark white shirt made him look so manly, so aristocratic, so damned scrumptious.

“Almost done?” He rubbed the corner of his eye, then concentrated on her. “With the warrior?”

“Yes. Tomorrow I’ll stop taking notes, then give myself a few days to be sure, then it’s the day.”

I should be smiling. Yet a gray sludge had seeped in and was weighing her down. Why? Was it just fear that she might be wrong? Surely not?

“Good. Once we’re done here, I’ll be a lot happier. There’s a group down there with Henry and Annie in it. We should say hello.”

Once we’re done here… Yes, that was it. There was nothing to look forward to. Accolades maybe, for solving the puzzle, but that would be like sand drizzling through her fingers and blowing away without Dankyo. Proving herself to her family had become nothing of consequence. She ached, plain ached to know if she and Dankyo had a future. Why didn’t he say something?

Where Dankyo had indicated, ten or more people were talking together. The ancient wall here was wide enough for small fires, and there were even braziers where she guessed soldiers must once have cooked meals.

When she hesitated, he took her shoulder. “What is it?”

“It” was too difficult to say. Her heart thudded. She shook her head, picking a granule of quartz from the rock with her fingernail.

“Do I have to be your slave? I’ve not spoken as an equal in public for days. Can I talk like a normal adult?”

“No, I’m sorry. Henry knows, but only him. I think Annie is there also. It’s not safe. Come. We won’t stay long.”

She let her shoulders slump and followed. Ahead, Dankyo’s broad back blocked out the light.

She had to say something. Not reaching for what she wanted was foreign to her nature. How many years had she forced herself to be counted among the go-getters?

Many, many years. She sighed. And all that time she’d hated it. She’d never liked being noticed.

Their heads turned to her as she and Dankyo neared the group.

“Evening, ladies and gents.” Dankyo nodded and shook hands with them all while she stayed at his side. No one addressed her. Here in Byzantium slaves weren’t worthy of being talked to, as far as she could tell.

Captain Riccardo, a man of olive complexion and short dark hair, paid her attention but only by stripping her with his eyes. Ugh. The one man she knew well apart from Dankyo was Henry, and he was sitting next to Annie and so enthralled by her conversation that an explosion would not have disturbed him.

The feeling of alienation grew. Dankyo gave the hand signal to kneel. She recognized the subtle movement even in the light of dusk. It was different from the one taught by Tansu, but she’d never forget it. He gave her a pillow, and Zigzag curled up next to her for a few minutes, then trotted off.

This was like being the least-welcome person invited to a party. Most of the others sat on chairs they’d brought with them. A small foldable table held plates of snacks and wine bottles and glasses. She fidgeted, winding the cloth of her little red taffeta skirt about her finger, then releasing it, and repeat. Ad infinitum.

At least her skirt wasn’t see-through. And the bodice for once was merely a black sheath that clung to her curves. The cool gusting breeze tugged at the thick braid of her hair.

Oh, this was so boring. And annoying, as the captain sneaked looks at her breasts whenever he could. Has the man never seen a woman? Perhaps it was the novelty of her being a slave? But they were everywhere here.

At their beckoning, Zigzag went to the man beside the captain, and he trailed his fingers over the clock dog’s golden skin. Then, to her disgust, the captain plucked and snapped off one of the gold tendrils on Zigzag’s hind leg. Dankyo was oblivious and kept talking to a blonde woman. Damn him.

She hissed. Then gathered her courage. “Sir. May I speak?”

“Later.” Then he carried on with his conversation. Argh!

The clock dog had never made a true noise apart from the mechanical ones and now he just limped away, obviously injured, came to her, and huddled close. Though she craved yelling at the captain or doing something violent, she could only seethe. The man lifted a brow and sipped his wine. He knew. Bastard.

Maybe Henry could fix him, later. Pointless going on about it. She’d look wrong if she kept annoying Dankyo after he’d told her later.

“Here.” Dankyo squatted, and his warm hand took one of hers and placed a glass of wine into it. “Won’t be much longer.”

She opened her mouth to speak.

A bang in the sky across the river made him turn his head. “Ah. Here it is.” The moon hadn’t yet risen, and the sky had been dark except for the tiny twinkling dots of stars.

The bang quickly echoed into a chorus of thumps. Like a grandiose fireworks display, lights trailing white sparks launched upward from the Ottoman side of the river. When everyone stood and crowded to the riverside edge of the ramparts, Dankyo drew her to her feet.

The timber squeaked on the stone as he pulled a chair closer to the backs of the small crowd. He hoisted her onto it. Now she could see over their heads. His arm around her waist steadied her. “Can you see?”

“Yes,” she whispered, afraid to speak loudly in case someone protested over a slave being given such a good observation spot.

In the water, silver dribbles ran across the river toward them as the rockets above arched closer. Some spun down directly above and popped into a cascade of smaller lights. Some continued soaring overhead.

“They’ll get to midcity before they burst, Sofia. Beautiful in a way, I suppose. Such a waste of energy, though.”

She looked down at Dankyo. His blunt fingers moved in circles at her waist, caressing her hip. For a military man, he appreciated beauty and the arts far more than she’d first imagined. It made him who he was, and to her eyes, so much more a person than a man who simply delighted in war. But she wasn’t for him, or so it seemed.

“Can we go now?” she asked quietly, too quietly for anyone to overhear.

Something of her mood must have communicated to Dankyo for he watched her, still circling his fingers. “Very well.”

Zigzag followed them, hobbling. Once out of the light, Dankyo took her hand in his.

She stopped. “The stupid captain back there broke off some part on Zigzag.”

“I’ll speak to him. He may not have known what he did.”

Her tone was cutting. “Sure he didn’t.” Scuttling noises arose. In the night, she imagined everything from zombies to bats. “What’s that?”

With a loud crackling fizz and a brightening of his purple eyes, Zigzag pounced and bit. Blue sparks of voltaic electricity sizzled. Tail erect and proud, he came toward her carrying a wriggling clockie in his mouth. And dropped it at her feet.

“Uck.” Sofia screwed up her mouth.

“The first of them. Good dog! One less to scribble on the walls.”

“He’s not a dog,” she said drily. With his nose, Zigzag nudged the crunched-up clockie closer, all mashed golden legs and flopping springs. He looked at her and whined.

She looked at him. What does he want? This is meaningful behavior. A puzzle. Something clicked.

“Ahh.” She crouched and rummaged, and finally found a tendril on the broken clockie that looked perfect. “Turn over.” She tipped Zigzag onto his side with a clonk and raised his leg to peer at the broken bit. Moonlight made it hard to see. With a bit of squinting and fiddling, the new piece screwed in.

The clock dog wriggled to his feet, then bounced a few times. His cold tongue licked her wrist—a silver flicker in the strengthening moon.

“Grand.” She grinned at him. “You’re fixed. Amazing, though, he’s almost self-repairing.”

“God. As bad as Henry, you are. An egghead, definitely.”

Though on the surface it appeared a compliment, irrational anger surged. The muggy grayness blanketing her; his denial by omission of any future; everything crowded in. She shot to her feet and fairly spit at Dankyo.

“What would you know? Damn stupid soldier. I worked years to get where I am. Damn you!” She choked back a sob. “Damn you.” She sprinted off.

By the time he caught up with her, she’d reached the corner where the ramparts of the compound turned west away from the river. Mad squeaks and whirrs told of Zigzag following behind.

When she dodged the touch of his hand, he pulled her to him by a handful of cloth, then shoved her up against the wall next to the door lintel that led down off the rampart. Air whooshed from her. She coughed, then glared up at him.

“What? What is it? Tell me.”

She tried to kick his shins. He crowded her.

“Sofia!”

Glaring some more didn’t do much. Neither did wriggling, since he held her arms at her sides. Anger gave her wings, or at the least freed her tongue so she could say all the bad things she needed to.

“If you don’t like me, just say so. Okay? Say it to me!”

“What?” He stared. His mouth opened a smidgeon, and then he paused. “I know you’re not insane, so I assume you don’t like being called an egghead. That was not an insult. But that’s not all of it, is it?”

She froze. Now’s the time. If I don’t say it, then it might be forever unsaid. God forbid. But…she’d messed up. “Now you really think I’m awful.” She shook her head frantically, blinking back tears. As if crying would help.

He released her, stepped away, then watched her swipe her forearm across her eyes. “Sofia. Please, let’s sit and talk.”

So they sat in the corridor. He pulled her between his legs and held her about the waist. More touching, damn him again. Her breathing slowed until at last she let her head flop back into his body.

No one else was coming near. From the oohs and aahs a second wave of clockies was coming in.

“Are we good now?” he asked, chin on her head. The low reverberations of his speech calmed her.

“I guess. Sort of.” She rocked the back of her head against him. “We need to figure things out.” Do it. Inhale. “Are you leaving me after we’re finished here?” Breathing seemed optional while she waited.

“Hell.” He clicked his teeth together, then let out a long sigh. “Do you want me to?”

She stiffened. That was not promising. “No. Of course I don’t.” Now, say good. Say it. But…he didn’t. There was only the regular in and out of his chest, and silence. Maybe if I prompt him? “And you?”

Nothing.

We agreed at the start this was only temporary. I wanted it that way. Blame yourself, stupid. She hung her head. The throb in the middle of her forehead heralded tears. I will not cry.

He heaved out another breath and shifted position. With his touch as gentle as a parent’s to a child, he stroked her hair.

FUCK. DANKYO USED the word about once a year and only in his head. But if ever there was a right time, it was now. Fuck. I set this up. I made this come about. I made her submit to me…or at least I saw the opportunity and let her see her own nature. Now I reap what I sowed.

The tight, shallow way Sofia breathed, and the skritch skritch sound of her nails on his coat signaled her nerves. She waited for him, poor thing. I’m hurting her. His heart seemed to swell with some thick emotion—sadness, even love maybe? God, surely I can do this?

He searched inside again. Knowing himself was a priority, wasn’t it? In any dangerous situation, knowing how far he could take his body and mind was essential. Battle dragged you to the edge and sometimes even gave you a swift boot up the rear end to send you over. Today love had trumped battle. He just could not figure himself out. Truth, then. At least give her that.

“I don’t know.” I don’t know, because whenever I try to think of you and me at House Kevonis, I can’t. You don’t seem to fit.

That was the truth too. But he wasn’t saying that out loud. After all he’d said and done these last few days, he couldn’t imagine the two of them together back there, where he belonged. And he didn’t know why.

The little sound she made tore a hole in his chest. “You don’t know? Okay. Then, when will you know? How long do you think? I mean, I guess I sound silly and immature or something, and I don’t want to rush this, but I thought we…the two of us…” She choked.

“Oh, love—” What could he say?

“Don’t.” Sofia sniffed. “Don’t call me that. Please. Not if you don’t know.” She sat up and turned to face him. After a last-ditch grab at her shoulders, he let her. His hands trailed down her arms. “Can you at least tell me something? Why? I mean…” She swallowed, looked downward, and shook her head in little jerks. “I feel like the world has turned inside out. God, I’ve been stupid.” Then she met his gaze again.

The fierce determination in her eyes made him absurdly proud. Sofia was no pushover. A kitten with claws.

“Don’t you even want to try?”

Of course.

He opened his mouth to answer, but she babbled onward. “To see if we can be together somehow? Not even try? I suppose I’m nothing much to boast about, though, am I? Penniless. Is that it?” She poked his chest, and he bit back a growl, but she poked him some more as she spoke. “Are you damn well waiting to see if I come good with the Clockwork Warrior?”

She was angry. But poking him was going too far. “Stop.” He gripped her palm. “Of course I care. You’re overwrought. I didn’t say anything like that. Stop and think.”

“Think? That’s it? That’s all you’re saying? Let me go!” She wrenched on her hand and he released her, then watched her struggle to her feet. “I’ll be a pretend slave. I’ll stay in the room with you, but don’t you dare touch me without my permission. All that stuff you told me”—she waved her hand—“we have to be careful or the Heraklos will pounce on us. All that never happened. I know there’s danger here, but nothing that wouldn’t have happened anyway—slave or not. Did you make it up just to get me in your bed? Did you?”

This time he did growl. “Sofia, you know that’s false.” Damn. He was never asking her for more time now. Anger seethed through him, though it didn’t affect him enough to make him illogical. This was small stuff compared to what he handled on a daily basis. Is it? So why can’t I answer her in a way that makes sense?

Maybe because in his last few nightmares, the face of the woman buried in the snow had been hers. Was that why he shied away from keeping her with him?

Sofia backed away until she hit the opposite wall.

“You can’t leave without me.” Slowly, he climbed to his feet. Someone had to keep their head. “Follow.”

Even in the dappled light from the overhead explosions, he knew she was bristling at the command, from the quick intake of breath, and the stiffening of her stance. He nearly smiled. Didn’t, but nearly. He knew her so well.

As he negotiated the turns and angles of the stairs leading down, the thought hit him. I know her, and she knows me. We do fit. Here. Why not there? At home? Fuck. He didn’t understand himself. And how he was going to exist in the same room as Sofia without wanting to get her on her knees obeying him?—impossible.

I dug the grave, now live in it. A macabre saying, but I deserve it. Already, this is killing me.

Half the night, he sat on the sofa with his head in his hands, trying to figure himself out.

The morning dawned, and the pieces still wouldn’t fit. Here he had the world’s foremost puzzle solver within reach, and he couldn’t fix what had broken inside him. The idea of living with her, permanently, made his gut churn so badly it recalled to him the first few times he’d gone into battle.

Fear? Perhaps. But how could being with Sofia scare him? Maybe because the last woman he’d truly cared for had ended up dead beneath an avalanche?

Maybe.

An image flowed into his mind of him putting out his hand to take Sofia’s. Then his view shifted, and she wasn’t walking beside him at all. She was below. Her arm angled downward. The flesh on the back of her hand was shredded, down to white bone. Blood dripped, bright red blood that curled onto her wrist and soaked into the snow. The outline of her body beneath whiteness…a wisp of wet hair curled on the surface, and underneath the snow, she breathed…

Fuck.

He jerked awake, caught himself just before he fell forward. Dankyo blinked away dryness and grit. Just a daydream. Day nightmare?

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to be with a woman? He’d been single for so long the world shook off its axis whenever he contemplated being with Sofia. Yet despite her disdain, her curled lip, and smoldering glare, he stood and watched as she dressed to leave for the palace. Then she’d bent over quite deliberately, displayed her mostly bared ass and wiggled it. His cock was so hard it hurt.

When he sorted his head out, first priority was bending her over for that tease.

He recalled the bloody daydream. If she was his, surely that would never happen? He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and stared at his hands.

Chapter Twenty

Learning how to narrow her focus while studying had been a hard-won ability. But she could do it. Sofia blocked him out, tucked her misery away in a corner, and did the last few examinations of the Clockwork Warrior.

She’d sketched him, and paced and measured every dimension. Her goal was in reach. The moment enthralled her, buzzed through her veins, and taunted her. Finally. Now to analyze it all. The rest of the calculations could be done sitting at a desk.

She gnawed her lip and stared up at him and the cherry-red spikes on his head. When I come back, I’m solving you. I am.

“What is it, Sofia?” asked Tansu. She looked up, as if she too saw something wonderful in the warrior. “Do you see a new thing?”

“Just my future.” She patted Tansu’s hand. “This may be the last day of your lessons.”

“Ah.” The rapt expression on her face made it clear Tansu had figured out what this meant. “You’ve been a good pupil. You could serve that nasty janissary that made us do this training, and he’d think you a wonderful slave. Though I know this is all so unnecessary to you.”

“Mmm.” She eyed Tansu, then glanced past her through the glass at the approaching Xiang.

Again the guard had been practicing. Even Dankyo never exercised his martial skills as hard as this woman. She’d come to wonder who would win in a contest between them. Fast was an inadequate word when describing Xiang with her whirling sword. Lightning was more apt. The rats had died on many days.

She tugged her gaze back, stepped to Tansu, and hugged her. “Thank you.” A tear or two spilled down her cheeks. Abandoning this woman to live the rest of her life in the harem seemed so callous, and yet what else could she do?

“Take care of yourself.” She sniffed and leaned away to look in the woman’s eyes. “Please.”

“I will.” Tansu smiled back, stroking the back of Sofia’s neck as she did so. Then she pulled the hug in close again and whispered in Sofia’s ear. “You also, Miss. Take care.”

Light as a butterfly, she kissed Sofia’s earlobe. The kiss was strangely sensual. The touch stirred faint tingles in her body. The soft mounds of Tansu’s breasts pressing into her own became ever so obvious.

Is she trying to arouse me? If she was, it had worked. Her breathing accelerated. Her pulse tapped faster, harder. Why did this seem a betrayal of Dankyo? They weren’t together, were they? Yet she’d not lost hope that they might be some day.

What a mess my head is.

Flustered, she slipped away and used the excuse of rearranging her clothes to find calmness within.

But, she might not ever see Tansu again. Sofia drew in a breath and looked up. “May you have a good life.”

A nod was Tansu’s reply, though her eyes bloomed darker as if there was more she dared not say it aloud.

Leaving the palace set a curious mark on her, as if this was the day to be remembered and not the day she actually solved the puzzle. So, so, strange. Sometimes her subconscious sent her messages, and she only deciphered them a whole week later. She pushed the notion aside. Time to return to Dankyo, and to the awkward silence that hung between them whenever they inhabited the same room.

Maybe he’ll say something. Maybe all he needed was time? I’d be stupid not to let him have that. But, last night she’d wrecked it, hadn’t she? Shrew, thy name is Sofia. A heavy ache settled in her chest.

The ride back in the vehicle had become commonplace, and the tension between her and Dankyo was as painful as tiptoeing on fractured glass. So she stared out through the saint’s head frosted on the window without seeing anything, until the wheels and tracks squeaked to a halt. The door was opened by the driver, and she alighted. To her left, across the white hood, movement drew her eye.

An old man in a dark robe, a seller of birds, grinned at her. His skin was bronzed by sun. The tips of his teeth showed. One of his tame blue birds jumped about the shoulder of a patron while money exchanged hands. Bird sellers were common. The man was here most days, she recalled. She smiled, then swung her head and located Dankyo waiting for her. The caramel stone arch of the tunnel leading to the compound gate showed beyond his shoulder.

Smile fading, she took another step. Another night awaited. Enduring having her man feet away yet untouchable would be exquisite torment. Only he wasn’t hers, of course. And maybe never would be.

Light spun past. With a bang something penetrated the engine. A gout of steam hissed from the hood, spreading into a cloud. Somehow, she’d seen the glint of a projectile flitting by.

Hell. An attack…but it had come from above, from the compound wall above.

Dizziness blurred her sight as the knowledge overran her thoughts.

“Sofia!” With the smoothness of eternal practice, Dankyo ripped his pistol from the shoulder holster inside his coat. “Come!”

“Wait.” Damn. Where was safe? He hadn’t seen what she had.

A series of kerumps split the air. Her hair billowed.

The windows of the three cars of their escort blistered white, bulged out in fractured arrays of glass, splintering into a million fléchettes—the cars had been hit simultaneously by something big and nasty. Glass skidded on tarmac.

The guards inside had no chance. Steam scalded them. Their cries percolated the air as they writhed like worms in hot water. Shadows and limbs moved. Someone, red and screaming, thrust open a door, and spilled out in a fog of superheated air. Mouth agape, she caught the scent of cooked meat.

Dankyo had always said the entry to the compound was the weak point—exit the car, walk those bare yards to the gate. And now, they paid.

The tug of Dankyo’s hand on hers awoke her. “Run! The gate!” He yanked harder, and she spun. Despite the lingering tinkle of glass, the suck of her breath seemed loud. Under the ball of her foot, dirt rasped and crunched. Soft leather soles—fragments would pierce her like a needle through butter.

The bird seller watched. The cage door swung on its hinge.

She absorbed the details in a microsecond. Blue birds swarmed about his head. Wings fluttered. Beaks glinted gold in the sun. At his feet lay the crumpled body of his customer. Blue birds? Gold beaks? Dyed? Metal? Clickety click. Tickety tick. Clues ratcheted through her brain and lined up, neatly, patient as corpses at the morgue.

Automaton birds. Unliving wings painted the air with swirls of blue as the flock launched in a long arc, then came around, aiming at her, their target.

“Dankyo!” She gasped. “The birds. Poisoned!”

As she ran with head half-turned, she tripped on something soft and rammed into his back. Arms flailing, she spun toward the ground. Dankyo caught her at the waist and steadied her.

“The inner gate’s locked.” He shoved her behind him. They were in the shadow of the tunnel.

The vertical lines of the metal gate rose before her. Inside, the courtyard festered in the late sun with a light sprinkling of corpses. Nothing moved, except flies. The clash and clang of swords, and some shouts and pistol shots suggested there were guards still fighting.

When she peeked past Dankyo’s trouser leg, she saw a body in uniform—the one she’d tripped on.

Dead. Soon that might be us.

Dankyo knelt. The birds swept in, then swirled in confusion at the entrance. Low slants of sunlight pricked on the gold of their beaks—tiny, sharp and toxic. A muted slither, and then the soft flow of silver on steel made her step back. He’d taken a sword from the body and needed space. Through the chiffon, the cold metal gate pressed down her spine.

How many birds? She counted, flicking from one blur of blue to the next. Twenty? More? Dankyo lunged to his feet and blocked her view, so she edged to the side. I need a weapon.

There were none. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” He adjusted his stance, and the black of his suit tightened across his shoulders. A frock coat, and it would hinder his movement yet perhaps also protect him. “Petals,” he muttered. “They’re all petals.”

The leaders of the flock arrowed toward them.

She gagged on her next breath. The life of this man hung on a pinpoint of time. This man I love. She shivered.

They struck.

The whirr of tiny clockworks accompanied them.

She’d seen him handle twice as many petals without missing one, but flowers couldn’t hit back and only moved downward as commanded by gravity and their soft, curved shape. The birds hovered and darted like hummingbirds, and the red gleam of their eyeballs made it seem as if they cataloged each reaction of Dankyo’s.

But he’s a sword master. He can do this.

A bird crashed to the ground in a tinkle of feathers, smashed cogs, and springs.

She dug her nails into her palms and tried not to blink.

The key, she thought, is efficient movement. Dankyo did not move with sudden strikes or thrusts, but in long swirls that drew the blade in loops of silver. He never stopped and kept it ever moving. When blade met bird a little shattering pop announced success.

Twenty-one…no, two. She could count them now. Keep going. Keep going.

She saw the pattern. Such small automatons, with small choices—easy to predict. Yes.

And that was when two birds whirred in a wide circle, around behind Dankyo, and past his defense of whirling metal. Oh God. They’re not after me. They’re after him.

Without hesitation, she stepped up, gauging the destination of the little creatures. Vectors and the minutiae of mathematical probability solidified, became one.

If I miss, he’ll die. Sweat beaded her brow. Shut up, shut up, shut up! Concentrate!

Avoid the beaks. Go!

Simultaneously, she lunged with both hands…and grabbed. The birds squirmed in her fists, wings still flapping, beaks spearing at her. But she held their necks. Let them go, and they’d get her.

I can’t break them with my hands.

Each wriggle of their bodies loosened her grip. What do I do? She collapsed to her knees and thrust them beak first into the ground. They crunched. The bodies gave little shudders, squeaked, and with a high-pitched scream of torn metal, wound down to silence and stillness.

Shuddering, she dropped them. The birds tumbled to the paving stones. A small gear wheeled away, then twirled and toppled. Cuts on her palms leaked dots of blood. Dankyo. She looked up, afraid of what she might see.

Sirens approached.

Smacked sideways by his blade, the last bird rolled across the ground.

“Sofia!” He dropped the sword, went to one knee, and scooped her up in his arms.

Something monstrous and white rumbled across the outer end of the tunnel, shunting the limousine aside. Its side-turret guns swiveled and trained on them.

“We’re okay. You’re safe.” Dankyo kissed the top of her head. “See the saint emblem on the door? We’re safe. It’s a palace landship.”

She nodded but didn’t dare speak. Stop shaking, fool. Get over all the scaredy-cat stuff. He kissed me. Only my hair, but that counts, doesn’t it?

After she craned her neck to check the courtyard and saw only the compound security guards closing in, she snuggled closer and shut her eyes. “Am I safe with you? Truly?” She lowered her voice. “Or will this end tomorrow?” Then she waited, and only her heart dared to move.

From the way Dankyo had frozen, she knew he’d figured out her meaning. He tightened his grip. “Open your eyes, Sofia.”

She did and saw him looking down at her. He had such beautiful brown eyes for a man.

“Yes. You’re safe. I’m not letting you go.”

“Ah.” Tentatively, she put on a shaky smile. “Then—”

“Shh. No explanations now. Later. Give me just this little time. Just a little.”

Later? She fidgeted with a button on his shirt. “So you know what—”

“Maybe.”

Maybe? Was that enough?

Then he leaned in and kissed her. Just a plain ordinary kiss that sent tingles running down to her toes and made her feel loved. It was enough. It would do. She heaved out a sigh and let all her worries drain away. It was enough. “Then I am yours for now.” Doubt quivered to life. “If you want me?”

“I know that I don’t want to let you go.” He smiled fiercely. “Give me time. Please.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I will.” She’d give him time, if that’s what he needed. Reality intruded. Not a thousand years, though; she wasn’t going to roll over, belly up, and let him trample her with uncertainty. Her father and brothers had cured her of that.

Chapter Twenty-One

They’d ended up in an office on one of the upper stories. Stone walls and a good field of view, she’d heard Dankyo say when they’d arrived. With a pile of weapons on one of the desks, and a revolving cadre of guards visiting for orders, Dankyo gained control of the little battle for the compound. Henry sprawled across a sofa, reading some manual as if nothing more dangerous than a picnic was happening.

She sat on the floor in a corner of the room, watching all the fuss, trying not to distract Dankyo by trembling. Zigzag was here. After laying his head on her lap for a quick scratch, he’d gone over and flopped onto his belly near the sofa and stared under it. Scuffling sounds made her wonder if a clockie was trapped there.

The shots had mostly died away after ten minutes. Palace security was helping mop up the last of the invaders. After a big explosion that rocked the walls, and her heart, there’d been only distant shouts. The burnt smell of voltaic weapons blew in through the window overlooking the courtyard.

Why wasn’t anyone screaming, though? Surely there were wounded? She kept her mind off the gut-numbing violence by running through puzzles, over and over. Her nails had been bitten to the quick. She’d know some of the dead, for sure. A shake would come out of nowhere now and then and run ice-cold up her body.

She guessed that, if it wasn’t for her, Dankyo would have been out there too. She wanted to go over and hug him, to feel safe in his arms, but she didn’t. Right now he was needed for more important things. Every few minutes, he glanced at her, as if checking she’d not vanished. He sat on the corner of the desk, looking solid and immoveable, like a gargoyle on a building.

A beak-nosed janissary carrying a gauss pistol stalked in with two palace guards. Both wore some fancy armor that sparkled like a jewelry store in an electric storm. Mad. At night it would be like asking to get targeted.

Target. The word triggered memories of the bird seller.

“Sir.” The janissary flung his short red cloak over his shoulder. “We have the place secured. The man you spoke of who released the birds hasn’t been found.”

Dankyo nodded, then spoke to the one man left in House Kevonis gray. “Reece? Dead and wounded?”

“Fourteen dead and twelve wounded of ours, sir.” The young man took off his cap and swiped his forehead. Blood streaked his cheek. “All of theirs still remaining in the compound are dead. Nine of those. Some suicided when caught. But we do have command again. Captain Riccardo is among the dead. I have reports that he was involved in allowing the enemy to enter.”

Fourteen dead. So many! Ugh. Evil man. She’d known he was bad.

Thinking of all those dead people, people who would never breathe again, talk again, and all for what?

Would anyone mind if she came closer? Sofia climbed to her feet, dusted off her hands, then padded to Dankyo’s side. After a glance, he pulled her in against him. She sneaked her arm across his waist. So warm and manly. Nothing could touch her now.

“I see,” Dankyo continued. “Who was it?”

Though he’d not flinched or said anything in words, the extra flatness of his tone and the resolute look in his eyes when she’d looked at him before told Sofia the deaths had affected him in some way. He was a commander. He was military. He might look like he was made of stone, but he’d be hurting. I know this, because I know him.

She hugged him even tighter. Maybe she could give him some comfort too.

“The Heraklos.” The janissary shoved his pistol into a belt holster, then stroked the protruding butt. “This reeks of them. I know of no other parties determined and profligate enough to attempt this. You and your young slave were meant to be kidnapped, I believe.”

“Profligate?” Dankyo said softly. “Why only capture?” He gently patted the back of her thigh.

“The birds did not carry poison but a sedative. The man who was stung is recovering. What the Heraklos would have done with you, I shudder to imagine.” His iron gaze swept across Sofia, and she felt it like a blow.

Goose bumps rose.

“For this reason,” he added, “I have been given instructions to offer you and this woman refuge at the palace until all that you are doing for the emperor-bey has been done satisfactorily.”

So vague. She guessed he didn’t know about the Clockwork Warrior.

“Thank you, I will consider it.” Dankyo said no more until after the janissary and his two men had left. Then he sat on the office chair, pulled her onto his lap, and kissed her nape.

The man, Reece, waited, swaying, with one hand propped on the desk. A little dried blood showed in an undulating trail down his bare forearm.

Henry stirred, swung his legs across, and sat up. He leaned his palms on his thighs. “What now? You know the new contingent from House Kevonis arrives tomorrow?”

Would they go to the palace? Surely Dankyo would not agree to that? She was dying to ask him, but not with Reece here. Staying low, being a harmless slave, had become second nature. She smoothed the lace on her tunic’s hem, then picked at a loose thread.

“I do.” The rumble of Dankyo’s voice behind her calmed her. “Ten men. This place will still be a sieve. Defending it properly has always been impossible without a small army.”

Oh no. That left…

“Without us here, you might be okay. I’m sure we are the bait that drew this attack upon the compound. I’d advise leaving, Henry, once you deliver the last weapons shipment and the Clockwork Warrior replica to the emperor-bey.”

“That’s soon, but it will take a day or so to get everything packed.” Henry rubbed his chin. “Not sure I want to leave you behind. The palace, though? You’re going with that fellow?”

“I think so. Reece, go do the rounds of the men and then get your wound tended to. See that the docs are dispensing the galvanic treatment to those in most need first.”

“Sir.” Cap jammed back on his head, Reece saluted, and exited.

When the tap of his shoes on the floor had faded, she put her head up and turned. “I don’t want to go to the palace. The emperor-bey”—she screwed up her face—“he gives me an awful feeling, like the willies, as if I’m just a thing. And the place echoes.”

“I know.” He stroked her hair where pieces strayed from her chignon. “It gives me the willies too.” She gave a lopsided grin at the thought of Dankyo scared. “But, it’s our best option. Don’t worry, I always take precautions.”

Henry pulled on his lip. “Palace building plans? That sort of precaution? Weapons?”

“Yes. If we can smuggle them in. And other things. I’ll tell you before we go.” Dankyo tugged on her hair. “I won’t let you get hurt, Sofia, you know that. If the Heraklos attack again, this place will likely fall. We are the foreigners here, and I can’t even call upon accurate intelligence. Now, how long before you can do the big reveal of your solution?”

How long? She heaved out a sigh, tried to forget the gritty ache in her eyes, and calculated. “Three days. Maybe?”

“Good. In three days, you’ll do that, and we’ll leave Byzantium.”

She nodded, then rearranged his tie and collar while she thought. The man smelled so good. She wanted to bury her face at the side of his neck and breathe deep. Three days. It still seemed a long time to be at the palace. “Very well.”

“Good.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, then added sotto voce, “That will give me the time I need also. Time to make love to you the way I want to.” The corner of his mouth curved up.

“Oh.” She blinked, then touched tongue tip to lip. “I guess…good.”

Staying at the palace might be worthwhile after all. Except he’d still not promised her anything more. She needed that, needed certainty.

* * * *

The emperor-bey wound out the focus on his brass eyeglass. Without looking up from the delicate repair of the clockwork goldfinch, he spoke. “So. It is done?” The breeze across the pond flicked through his hair.

“Yes.”

He heard the shift of Xiang’s clothes along her body. Was she nervous? Excited? If so, this was a rare occasion. He tightened the screw a smidgeon inside the bird’s abdomen, then pushed back the chair and walked across the terrace to the carved tree with the red paper leaves. It rustled pleasantly. When a few feet away, he heard the chimes and whirrs of the clockwork creatures on the branches.

Xiang walked quietly a step behind. Clad in black, with the soot and gore of battle still on her hands, she was not at all what he normally allowed within smelling distance. Luckily his perfume disguised much of her odor.

“I like that the Heraklos have been blamed. And I also appreciate that I now have an adequate excuse for removing some of these foreigners from my city. I have gained what I want from them. But, do not mistake me. I know your motives, Xiang. Consider this the end of your small acts of terror against Dankyo. Nothing further. We are too close to the end gambit.”

“There.” He set the bird on a vacant branch and stepped back, smiling. The little thing chirruped and hopped to a higher branch. “Are they arriving soon?”

“Yes, Your Serenity.”

“Good. When she solves my warrior’s puzzle, you may have the man, and we will both be happy. Will you bed him or kill him?”

“I will torture him. It is what I need to do.”

“Ah. Good.” When three birds on one branch broke into song together, he clapped his hands. “Excellent. Nothing like a surfeit of torture to enhance your day. It may not be my route to happiness, but it has always been yours. And I always reward my servants.

He pointed at a spot at the opposite end of the terrace, and waggled his finger. “You know, I do believe that will be the place for this replica I’m getting tomorrow. To the right of my throne.” The gold-plated throne gleamed. The enormous silver wall behind it fanned out like a latticework shell. On days when the anger swarmed through him like bees on a rampage, the wall was convenient for attaching annoying people to. Most of them survived the experience.

“And the woman?” Xiang asked.

He examined her. A long pistol was sheathed in a holster slung low and strapped to her thigh. The red blipping light on the side meant the charge was zero. Good. Her hand draped over the bronze-riveted butt. The tendons along the back stood out stark, like little bones under the skin. How close all humanity was to being skeletons, to being dead. Her hand twitched, once.

Tsk. His assassin had her foibles. He’d never seen her show such…interest, as she had in these two.

“You want her too? We shall see. We will decide when the choice is before us.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

For three days they’d stayed at the compound with a heavy detachment of palace guards to enhance security. Men needed to be evacuated or sent to hospital. The buildings had to be repaired and shored up. Dankyo and Henry conferred, discussed things, and information was gathered. She’d thought, hoped, they could go straight to the palace. The stress of staying in a place where so many had recently died hobbled her chances of her doing the last calculations. She’d tried and done some, but ended up nauseated and with a pounding headache. When someone tried to poison the kitchen supplies, her nerves had frayed even more.

Praying for the souls of the dead hadn’t helped, and neither had praying for Dankyo.

Though Dankyo showed no sure outside signs of problems, not everyone wore their emotions outwardly. He would have to be one of those least likely to do so. Sex had become nonexistent, and that was so unlike him. And when he slept, the nightmares plagued him.

She’d almost woken him properly, to ask him what caused them, but each night she’d drawn back, hand trembling.

I’m such a chicken. I have to ask him. But not now. They had arrived. And what an arrival. Sofia smiled. This gave her the willies?

The bed in their room at the palace was large enough to take a small elephant. A quilt spread across like a sea of aquamarine with green flecks. On the wall beyond was a wide mural of an orgy in some flower-swathed grove. Half-animal gods or demons ravished fair maidens. One maiden, her hair spilling out in frothy curls, lay sprawled on her back on an altar, her hands and ankles secured by red ropes.

Sofia padded over to the mural and ran her palm over the cool tiles. Then she drew back and peered. From here, the red tiles seemed more blood than rope.

Ugh. Either the artist was awful or the scene was.

Another wall of the room was closed in by a bank of carved doors. Dankyo unlocked the gold handle. He slowly folded back the doors, revealing a blue sky bright enough to make her squint, though on the horizon heavy storm clouds were building. Past the doors, and a shaded alcove, the stone floor merged with a small lake. A breeze tickled the surface. Ripples arrowed from the center toward the near shore. Did something live in there? There was a little island, and on a far bank, topiary trees and shrubs screened the lake.

Paradise.

The palace was so wrapped in guards and security that nothing short of a small—no make that a large—war would break through. Safe. She inhaled and smiled.

There was a desk for her to work at, servants to bring food, and she could relax until the day she unveiled the secret. No need to be a slave if she didn’t leave the room. Only Tansu and one other trusted servant were to be allowed to attend them. No need to wear this travesty of palest mauve that, yet again, allowed those who wished to count her pubic hairs and the number of freckles on her backside.

Once the bags had been deposited on the tiles of the lounge area, the servants left her and Dankyo alone.

Feeling trepidation prickle her, she joined Dankyo where he stood before the lake in his gray shirt and darker gray trousers. He was impassive, staring out as if lost in thought, and dressed as somberly as the clouds on the horizon.

The collar could go. She reached up to undo the buckle.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, she paused. “What?” He’d barely looked at her. “I don’t have to pretend here, so I’m taking this off.” She fiddled with the buckle. “I’m not actually your slave, remember?” Stupid, why did she even bother explaining to him, when here he was standing next to her stony-faced and almost ignoring her?

“No. You’re not. Though I wouldn’t trust security here completely. You may remove it for a short while.” He met her gaze. “Let me do that.”

He brushed aside her fingers and took his time undoing the buckle, so she had to stand, waiting, while he breathed down on her. This close, he affected her. She half closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell a little faster, though she tried not to let it show.

The leather fell away, only to be replaced by his hand, half circling her neck, callouses rasping on her. When his lips brushed the hollow between neck and collarbone, she sighed.

This is so idiotic, melting like jelly, now. She tilted her neck away only to have him slide his arms across below her breasts and hold her to him until her body was perfectly snug against his.

“Dankyo…” She swallowed the roughness in her throat. “We need to talk.”

“Yes.”

She turned in his arms. For once his feelings showed front and center—a crease marked the center of his forehead.

“I know.” His hand swallowed hers, and he drew her to the edge of the flagstones. Matter-of-factly he rolled up the legs of his trousers, then sat with his feet immersed in the lake water. “Here.” He patted the warm stone. The collar lay there innocent and black near his hand.

Something dark, and as long as a human, swam in the water. At the front end, nostrils surfaced. The V of disturbed water headed for a little beach of sand to the left.

“What is that? Pull your feet up!”

“It’s okay, Sofia. I was told there are a few clockwork creatures here. They clean up any clockies that land. They won’t bite you. The groundkeeper comes daily to tend to them.”

“Oh. I see.” When the creature emerged and waddled onto the beach, she cautiously sat next to Dankyo and let her feet dip in the water.

The thing gleamed—four legs, greenish metal scales, a long, thick tail, and when it swung to stare at her, she spotted rows of steel teeth. Lord, she wasn’t patting that one. “A clockwork crocodile? I’m glad we didn’t bring Zigzag.”

Henry was taking care of Zigzag because they’d been afraid his clockie parts would mean security quarantining him, or worse, destroying him.

“Yes. It would have eaten him.”

The lake water was cool and clear. Past some floating weeds, a few feet down, she could see the rocks and sand on the bottom. A tiny fish flicked past. Not that she was going to swim in there, even if the island in the middle did have a neatly mowed lawn and a white gazebo. How did they mow out there?

She shook her head, dismissing the question.

“So”—she swirled her feet and watched the bubbles—“what have you decided?” It felt odd taking the initiative and talking first.

His hands curled over the edge of the stone, and every few moments he flexed his fingers. Such a large man and so used to taking charge, yet he seemed off-balance. Well, she wasn’t giving up, even if he’d turned to damn concrete, again. She put her hand over his. “What is it?”

He shook his head so slightly she might have missed it.

“What?” Now he stops talking again? This was so frustrating. Here, when finally she could be herself, and finally she felt safe, he withdrew into his shell? He could give a tortoise lessons in hiding.

Maybe it was time to poke. Pretending to be a slave all that time had stopped her being her. “Cat got your tongue? There are a lot of words in the English language. We can’t talk if you don’t use any. Pick some, and I’ll tell you if they’re any good.” Nothing moved apart from a line shifting beside his mouth. “Bunny? No? Fluffy slippers? Cabbages? Damn it all, please, say something.”

“Okay.” The deep growl of his voice surprised her. He glanced at her. “Dead. Is that a good word for you, Sofia? A lot of men died.”

“Oh.” So that was it. Her stomach sank.

“But, I can survive that. My job has involved seeing men die for many years.” He grasped her hand, took it to his mouth, and kissed it. “What I can’t handle is the possibility of seeing you die.”

Where was this going? “I don’t plan on dying any time soon, Sir.” She didn’t exactly want to hear what he might say next, because it seemed likely to be an excruciating answer. His grip on her hand tightened. “Is this…is this going to be logical? I mean, you said you couldn’t bear to ever let me go. Which, I really liked the sound of. But now, I get the impression that if someone offered to take me far, far away, you’d jump up and down waving and cheering.”

The smile he turned on her lifted her heart enough that she smiled back.

“No. It’s not that bad, not yet. I’m fighting myself here, woman. I want you with me, and yet…do you want the truth?”

Those eyes. Daring her, questioning—she could see him trying to read her.

“Um. No, and yes. Now I’ve got your disease. But, yes. Tell me. I always need the truth. I’ve had enough lies from people to put me off falsehood.” Except truth can hurt a lot. She’d have bitten her nails if he wasn’t watching.

“Very well. When I think of having you live with me, I feel wrong.” One corner of his mouth quirked, and he shrugged. “That is it. It’s just a feeling.”

Wrong? I make him feel wrong? The knowledge twisted up inside her. Tears threatened to arrive. She hung her head. “How romantic.” Bitterness crept in. Well, that was the truth, and now she felt ill. “I think, until you figure that out, we should stay just friends.”

Impulsively she stood and announced, “I’m going for a swim.”

The clockwork things here wouldn’t bite. The water was shallow and warm, and Dankyo was in a suit. The stupid clothes she wore would dry in an instant. He was not going to see her cry.

“Sofia. Stop!”

She heard annoyance in that tone. Well, it served him right, he could go…go be all sad and disgusting by himself. Anger gave her courage. The stupid crocodile thing was harmless, right?

She launched herself into the water and struck out for the island. She gasped. The deeper water was frigid. The liquid sliding over her skin shocked her into a higher level of alertness. She did breaststroke, feeling like she’d changed from a woman into a frog. The fine material of her tunic and pants barely dragged at all.

Then slowly, as her fury faded, awareness of her vulnerability crept in. What if he was wrong? What if the thing bit? You never knew what was under the water. Even clear water went all fuzzy when it was disturbed. Look! I have to look.

It was there still, flaked out on the beach. Probably purring, or whatever crocodiles did, happily warming its springs and cogwheels.

There might be two. She swam faster.

After the initial shouted words, Dankyo had said nothing.

When she reached the island, she went to her knees where the lake lapped on the sand, and planted her palms. Nothing had eaten her. A few inches from her nose, three orange clockwork fish rocked in the waves, sloshing back and forth. She’d stay here until all the anger had gone away and she could forgive him. And until she grew some courage.

Sofia twisted her lip and sucked on it. So maybe a few centuries here, then?

After crawling onto the sweet-smelling lawn, she turned over and leaned on her elbows. Water pooled on her belly button and stuck the tunic to her skin. She shivered despite the sun’s rays warming her, then looked back.

As if he was doing something he did every day, Dankyo was undressing, folding his clothes, then placing them in a pile to one side.

Oh lord.

HELL AND TARNATION. When Sofia stood up, ignored his words, and dived into the lake, it had been as if somebody had poured a beaker of icy water into his head. All the complicated sad and ugly thoughts swishing around in there had been washed away, instantly.

His vision crystal clear, and his cock hardening by the second, he’d watched her swim off. She’d even flipped once and dived beneath the surface. Her bottom, glimpsed for a moment, had been perfectly outlined by the cloth. Totally see-through. The globes of her ass looked so biteable, and the crevice between made him imagine shoving his hand there.

Strange how this had just put the final seal on his feelings.

Any woman who reveled in swimming enough to get her hair wet, and who was impulsive enough to dive into a lake with a clockwork crocodile, was the woman for him. Sure, he’d told her the creature was safe, but this was a whole other level of feistiness. Sofia was crazy, but the right sort of crazy for him.

He slipped off his shoes, then the rest of his attire, and put everything aside. Standing there, naked beneath the sun, made him feel like roaring and being all male. He put his hand on his erection. It had ideas already.

And she’d taunted him. He smiled. Time to finish off this talk. If anything, he knew her too well. Sofia had buttons he could press. She’d gone off without thinking. He’d explain where she’d gone wrong, and then he’d figure out what to do with her. Perhaps Henry’s new toys would be appropriate?

He squatted, rummaged in his coat pockets, and found them. Then he wrapped them round his biceps.

He did a shallow dive, and cruised underwater for a while, delighting in the way the coolness caressed his muscles, and then he set off for the island. Each precise stroke pulled him closer to her and gave him time for more ideas. But first, he had to explain, had to sort things out.

Sand squished between his toes when he walked from the water. Sofia said nothing while he loomed over her, dripping. She was sitting in the wet sand, her legs out to the side, head bowed while she played with some clockwork goldfish. He went closer, until the front of his ankles touched her thigh and his feet were under her. He dripped on her and waited.

The little mechanical chrr chrr chrr sounds made him wonder what she was up to.

“Sofia?”

Her shoulders slumped, and she stopped whatever she was doing with the fish. “Do you have to drip on me? You know, I was hoping to get some alone time out here.”

He grimaced. She was indeed annoyed. All the better to prod her even more. Some fire had been lit inside him. Certainty guided him. She’d not get away from him this time. Time to knock his woman off her pedestal again.

“What are you doing?”

After a moment, she explained, “Winding up the goldfish. See.” She let go of the one she held. The tail wriggled, and the fish shot off into deeper water. “You just turn the body round and round. Clever. No key needed. Now will you go?” She waited, head down, not looking at him.

He nudged her with his foot. “We haven’t finished our talk.”

“Sure we have. You told me I made you feel wrong. I get the message. Now go. Get your sandy foot off me.”

The itch to grab her was strong. He resisted. “You asked me for the truth. I gave it to you. Then you swam off without letting me explain.”

“You were being a grumpy bastard.”

Hell. He held in the laughter. “I agree. I was. I had my reasons. Good ones. And you still should have let me explain. You can’t ask for the truth and then run away.”

“It hurt.” Now she glanced up, and he saw the moisture running along her eyelids.

He squatted. “I know. But, you need to understand I’m fighting it, and I won’t be leaving you.”

Sofia picked up another fish, sniffed, then rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “When I make someone feel bad, it makes me think we don’t fit together.”

“I understand. I do. But I’ve figured out why I feel this way, and I’m not letting you go. Do you understand that?”

She just shook her head.

This was like navigating an airship through thick fog. How did he get her to understand? Having her leave him, having her walled off when he needed her in his life so much…not happening.

“Remember our agreement while we’re here in Byzantium? That has not been rescinded.” She stiffened. She remembered, then. And said nothing. Maybe he needed to push? “Remember?”

Slow yet sure, he put his hand to the back of her head and collected her hair as if he were about to start a ponytail. He kept talking as he wound it round and round. “Answer me, Sofia, because if you don’t, I’m going to turn your wet little ass red.”

Was this the right way? If she denied him, and there was that chance, something inside him would break.

With her hair tight in his fist, he bent her neck back until she had to meet his eyes. She’d quickly pushed off the sand with one hand and shifted her legs so she was kneeling. The position made her breasts push out, and the moist cloth clung to her like tissue paper. Her areolae bunched until her nipples stuck out like inviting buttons.

Her lips parted. “I remember.” She breathed fast yet deep, gentle in his grasp, accepting his control.

“You like this. Good.” Then he added again, softly. “Answer the other question. Do you understand?”

Her hands were relaxed and palm up on her thighs. Sofia swallowed. “I…I understand. But”—she blinked, then frowned—“How can you be both?”

Thank God, she was talking and listening. He savored the moment, and let the relief wash into him, and away.

“Both to not want to leave you, and to also feel as if you’re wrong to keep with me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well…” He clucked his tongue, thinking.

And he studied how he held her.

With her pinned in place, why not take advantage? He put his finger on the center of her forehead and began to draw a line down her nose to her mouth, bump bump over each lip, feeling them quiver, then to her chin and down her neck. The cloth of her top clung to every curve. In a shrinking spiral, he circled one breast, going slowly inward and ending on the edge of her areola.

She quivered and moaned, thrust out her chest some more. So he did the same to the other breast, then teased each nipple, rubbing the fine netting of the cloth across her skin.

“For me to think both is contrary, perhaps, but no more so than you wanting to be with me only five minutes ago, and to then be telling me”—he jerked a little on her hair—“to go away. Which I’ve decided is worth punishment.” He smiled mean, then reached to pinch one nipple, flattening it until she plucked at his hand. So he lifted away and squashed the other one.

With a squeal, she arched and used both hands on his, wrenching, trying to pull him off. After a second, she stilled, and though her hands stayed wrapped about his wrist, her eyes were shut, and her mouth was open and panting.

The wriggle of her ass, and her soft moans said even more. This aroused her. He’d thought it might. He leaned down and kissed her, sealing his lips over hers and making this a long and powerful kiss. He moved her head just the way he wanted, nipped a path down to her breast, reached her nipple, and bit. Another squeak made him grin.

At her ear, he whispered, “I want to bruise you.”

He went light and nibbled her lips until she sighed. Then he covered her mouth and kissed hard, ravaging her, like he never meant to let her breathe again, like he wanted to stamp her as his possession for eternity. Every moan of hers entered his mouth. Like an incubus, he took those gasps and sighs and delicious noises into his body and felt her arousal pump straight to his cock.

Then he drew away and watched her recover. Her eyelids quivered open, and awareness returned.

He rubbed his nose on hers and smiled. “Now, do you understand what I said, Sofia? I spoke the truth. I don’t intend leaving you, ever. I will sort out my own head. Okay?”

She inhaled, exhaled. “Okay.”

“Good.” His mouth to her ear, he added softly, “I’m going to take you hard. But first, I’m going to wash the sand from your body.” He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “I want you naked. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Her green eyes were big and glistening. “I do.”

“Stand up and hold your arms out from your sides.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to tear off your clothes.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

His words made her shudder. After a second, Sofia rose and lifted her arms out a little.

“Face outward.” He pushed, and she turned, his little pliant doll, feeling the breeze on her wet clothes and the grass squish underfoot. Anticipation hypnotized her.

A craving arrived—how thrilling it would be to protest, to struggle, to scream. But she wouldn’t, afraid he might stop, because she was a woman who said yes or no when she meant it, wasn’t she? So she only sneaked out a small complaint. “What if someone watches?”

“Be still.” His hands gripped the neckline at her nape.

She closed her eyes, needing to soak up every shred of the violence.

The first rip tore the back all the way to the bottom. The simple force jarred her body and loosened the strings tying her mind to the world about her. He slipped the tunic down her arms. The second tear only opened the back seam of the pants, but she shuddered again even so. The ferocity sent her spinning, made her mind sink, left her hot. Moisture leaked from between her thighs.

She rocked free from reality. For a few soul-melting seconds, she became nothing more than his—a creation, waiting for the next act of this god that had taken her. Sounds blurred into the distance.

Head down, she heard his words, then felt his hand on her shoulder. “Are you here with me, Sofia?”

He knew. She sucked in a long, quavering breath, then nodded. “Yes. I’m here.” The world calmed.

He slipped the pants to knee level and shoved them the rest of the way with his foot in the crotch. The damp cloth stuck to her.

“Step out of the pants, then put your wrists behind you.”

She was naked. Looking down, she saw her erect pinkish nipples and the roundness of her breasts. There was sand on the tops of her toes.

“Sofia?” He gripped her upper arms as if to steady her.

She put her hands behind her and caught one wrist in the other hand. Something cold and hard looped about one wrist, then secured it crosswise to the other one, and locked with a clockwork purr. What was this? Then she recalled the silver arm decorations she’d seen on him when he left the water. Pulling did nothing except remind her she was tied. Whatever it was, it didn’t give. Another loop above her elbows pulled them in.

Glorious. He didn’t mean her to escape. She shut her eyes and wallowed in the sensation.

Something touched her ankle. A silver-scaled snake rippled around her, swallowed its tail, and wrapped snug around her legs. She squeaked.

“What is that!”

“Be calm, my lady. An invention of Henry’s. It’s clockwork, but it obeys me, just like you do. Better than you do, perhaps.” Dankyo stood, sliding his large hands up her legs but lingering at the juncture of her thighs. One hand shoved between them, found the wetness, and a slippery finger dived inside her. His moistened thumb tip probed her other hole. She jumped.

“No!”

“No?” He nipped her shoulder, fastened her to him with an arm across her breasts, and wiggled thumb and finger deeper. “If I want to, I will. You know that.”

Unless she said no.

The pressure down there, pushing apart her flesh, filling her… She moaned.

“Have you ever been taken there?”

Truth? “Yes. It hurt, some of the time.”

“Then I’ll be gentle when I do it.”

When. His words shot a picture into her head—bent over, with him covering her and buried deep inside her ass. His erection pressed into her back. She shuddered, squeezed her thighs together.

“Down.” With one hand grasping her breast, and his other hand around her upper arm, he made her kneel.

The grass crushed under her weight, and little stalks dug into her knees. She touched her upper lip with her tongue. Her mouth seemed puffy. All that kissing…and her head still seemed on the wrong way. The world was distant and muffled. With her wrists crossed at the small of her back, her relaxed fingers touched the swell of her ass.

“You’re mine to take now, Sofia, aren’t you?”

Eyelids half-lowered, she breathed her reply, quiet as a dragonfly alighting on a pond. “Yes.” I am His.

But then her eyes focused. Facing outward meant she could see the lake and all its denizens. Fear trickled in. She lifted her head, sneaked a peek at the crocodile, scanned the water nearby, and met Dankyo’s gaze. Eek. She flinched. Stern, foreboding, not happy.

“Sofia.”

“Sorry. It’s just…”

“Yes?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I know what you said, that it’s safe, but I have a thing about keeping my toes where they are, attached to me.”

“You swam here.”

“I was cross with you.”

“How were you getting back?”

She shut her eyes, then muttered, “Boat?”

He laughed. “You are so bad.”

Anxiety leaked away, and inside she smiled.

Something soft went across her eyes. When she shook her head, Dankyo grabbed her hair again and held her. “You don’t trust me. Clearly if you did, you’d not have swum here, and you’d not be looking around. You need to learn to trust me. This is a blindfold.”

“I do trust you.” She shifted on her knees. “But no one is ever one hundred percent trustworthy.”

There was a long silence. “If I pledge myself to you. I promise you I will be.”

But… “Pledge yourself?” Her heart thumped slow and even and loud.

“When we reach the shore, I will do so. If that is agreeable to you?”

So formal? So serious. The meaning hit her. She tried to see him through the blindfold but couldn’t, and felt tears wet the cloth. “Yes.” She swallowed. “That is agreeable.” The cloth pulled at her hair as he tied a knot at the back. “Why the blindfold?”

“To teach you to trust.”

He thought he could teach her about trust when he was hiding something? “Trust goes both ways,” she said quietly. “Why do you have nightmares?”

She couldn’t believe she’d asked him that. Too late to take it back, though. She twisted her hands, and the silver snake slid, cool and strangely slippery as dew on her skin. Next time she’d wait until he untied her before she asked pushy questions.

For a long while, he simply breathed. Then he answered.

“A woman. The one who died in the avalanche all those years ago. I still have nightmares about that—I rescue her over and over. Sometimes the hand I pull on to drag her free is severed and nothing more than a hand. Sometimes I dig forever into the snow but never find her. Endless variations, and all of them bad. I’m sorry you heard me. I didn’t know they were that loud. I tend to go back to sleep after they hit.”

She struggled for a reply. “Yes. Well. I don’t go back to sleep so easily. But thank you for saying.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’m going to float you, on your back, to the shore. And you are not going to move. You are going to trust me to keep you safe. It’s not deep, and I can stand the whole way. I want to see you relax. Understood?”

But the very idea made her muscles stiffen. “Is this some sort of foreplay? Because if it is, you need some lessons. If you do this, I may not recover for a week.”

From the sounds and the shadow, he crouched over her. His lips brushed hers. “Lessons? I think such insolence earns a spanking all by itself.”

“Wait!”

But he carried her out into the lake. When she wriggled, he chided her, then pinched her butt hard enough to make her yelp and lie still. She heard the chuckling of the water as he waded out, and then he lowered her until she lay belly up with water lapping at her ears and covering most of her body. The tips of her breasts felt the breeze, so she knew they jutted up above the water line.

So strange. At one and the same time she felt terribly exposed and cocooned. Dankyo kept his hands on her, with one under her back so she couldn’t sink. Without fuss he began to move, and as he walked, he talked to her in quiet reassuring words, telling her everything he saw and all that happened. The sound of his words came through the water to her ears and seemed a long way off. The water was warm, except where her feet entered the cooler deeper zone.

Slowly she did as he wanted and let the quietness take her away to a place where only his words and his hands on her mattered. As her muscles loosened, her feet went a little deeper. He was moving her headfirst, and her bound hands trailed deeper also, with the turbulence fluttering her fingers as if it were she who caressed the lake and not the lake caressing her in its soft watery embrace.

With the blindfold on, his words mesmerized her.

They went past dragonflies and wiggling clockwork fish, tangles of weed, and a yellow hummingbird that hovered to dip its beak in the water. Here and there she registered the touch of Dankyo’s hand on her bare stomach or her thighs as if he were reminding her of her body—and making her remember he was there, by her side.

When at last they halted and only the ripples washing against her told of the journey from island to shore, she’d fallen far under the spell of the lake and of Dankyo, her lover. She would have stayed there forever if he’d asked it of her.

He scooped her from the water and placed a light kiss on her mouth. “Thank you, Sofia, for trusting me.”

She smiled and lay in his arms, unmoving, as he carried her. Sound had come back. Weight had returned, but she was still his. The muscles of his hard body rolled against her. With her hands and ankles bound he could do anything. And she wished that he would. She pretended she were in another world where a man might do whatever he liked to her.

“A sofa is here,” he whispered as he lowered her.

It was soft and smelled beautifully clean. He slipped off the binding above her elbows before he let her lie flat. Her weight squashed her hands into the thick cushions beneath her body. She heard him walk away, then return. A moment later the snake unrolled from her ankles.

“I’m tying your legs apart, my dear. So I can see you. So I can take what you offer me.” She could hear the satisfaction in his voice and felt herself surface a little closer to the real warm world. Her lips curved, and his finger drew a line across the middle between them until she opened and sucked on him. “You’re very swollen down below, darling. You look so inviting. So pretty. Why do you smile, Sofia?”

Rope locked around her ankles and fastened them widely apart. He didn’t seem to need an answer. Being exposed swept heat into her body. Tightness, holding her down…mmm.

His thighs brushed the inside of hers, and then his arms were on either side of her shoulders. His cock pushed at the circle of her entrance—soft, yet hard beneath, wanting to enter, yet patient.

She let out a long, freeing breath. Speaking awoke her even more. “I thought you were going to spank me?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Right now I want to make you mine. Nothing more. Nothing less. You’re my mermaid from the sea, and if I don’t do this now, maybe you’ll turn back into a fish.”

A giggle threatened to erupt from her. But he kissed her again and pushed inside her. His thickness parted her as surely and easily as a spear. With her legs tied down, she was trapped under him. He went in even deeper. She groaned into his mouth and attempted to open her legs more but couldn’t. She wanted to flex her back and spread her legs, wanted to surrender herself to the fullest extent, but she couldn’t. Even that he dictated.

Dankyo grunted and shoved himself all the way in until she gasped at the discomfort. He was so far in she thought his balls would be inside if he moved another half inch. She tried again to wriggle and couldn’t. She subsided, panting. He bit her neck with his mouth wide. His teeth sank into her skin, marking her for a few seconds, before he nuzzled the hurt spot, and did another small, sharp thrust. Taunting her.

“Oh!”

“You are mine, Sofia, and I am yours.”

Roughened by arousal, her words came out deep and guttural. “Yes. But move. Please!”

“Uh-uh. Shh. When I want to, I will. I’m taking you, not the other way round.”

Lord, she could feel the pulse of his member. Could feel how he fitted into and filled every space within her. She ached for him to move. Please, please, take me.

But he held her down and thrust into her when he wanted. The raw beast-like surge of his cock in and out set a tide of pleasure coursing through her. His forearms leaned in on her; his chest pressed down on her breasts, and he raked his fingers into her wet hair and fastened her down there too.

“Oh God.” She moaned. Harder. Deeper. Each panting breath, each clasp of her tunnel on his cock, each fresh seep of her juices onto her thighs sent her spiraling closer to the hot cataclysm of an orgasm. So close.

Then he propped up on one elbow, slipped his hand between their bodies, and found her clit. The soft toggling of the taut nub added to the sensations—they climbed, built, roiled inside her. A last firm press over the very top of her clit sent the storm ripping through her, blowing her into that mindless void. Slowly she came down and found herself panting and limp.

“Well done.” He worked the blindfold upward, and she saw how he studied her and the way her breasts moved as she struggled to draw in air. “Beautiful.”

His thrusts intensified, as hard and forceful as a hammer driving a pile into the earth. He fucked her like any beast would take its mate, primal, grunting his pleasure, shoving himself inside her and rocking the sofa. She strived to meet him and couldn’t move. In that moment she was his possession and nothing more. The legs screeched on the tiles. His breath huffed in her ear, his cock penetrated to the top with every single stroke, and then, at last, he stayed there, and the swell of his ejaculation made her gasp and tense from the pleasure. He lay between her thighs, recovering, his face buried in her neck while his cock jerked a last few times.

She ventured some words. “I want to hug you. Please?”

“Of course.” He kissed her cheek, then rose to dispose of the condom and untie her. They lay on the sofa in the warm sun cuddling, Dankyo spooning against her back.

“And so, my dear, here it is. I pledge myself to you. I promise you I will never betray you, and that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm.” He clucked his tongue. “Except when I decide to beat your cute little backside. But most of all, I want us to meet the future together, side by side. Sofia, I love you.”

Oh. She gasped and looked over her shoulder at him. He’d said those words she’d somehow never thought to hear.

It made everything right. “I love you too,” she said quietly. Contentment melted through her like the warm sun on a cold morning. “But you aren’t supposed to say the backside thing.”

“Oh yes I was. It’s part of the pledge. Now you.”

She smiled, pulled his large hand to her lips, and kissed each finger one by one as she spoke.

“Umm. I pledge myself to you. I will never betray you. I want to be by your side as we face the future. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm, except when I decide to beat your—” He covered her mouth with his hand and growled.

“Not that bit.”

She swallowed her laughter, though the grin persisted. “Sorry. Ahem.”

“Apology accepted. Only because I’m too tired to beat your backside right now.”

“Good,” she whispered.

Must get up and clean myself. But not too soon. This was heaven. He’d pledged himself to her. They’d have some sorting out to do, but her future, at least her near future, lay with Dankyo, her man. The details could wait.

“I think, to show you my side of the trust coin, I’ll tell you what I’d never admit to anyone else.” His rough voice sifted warm through her hair.

“Oh?” What was this?

“The reason I felt wrong about you staying with me is because I don’t want to ever see you hurt. The nightmares… I’ve figured out it’s connected to those. That was the last woman who trusted me to protect her, who I was close to. Don’t ask me how it works, but it’s a gut feeling and hard to shake. Though I want to protect you, I am, I was, afraid.”

”You, afraid?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that I’ll fail. I may never lose that fear, Sofia, but it will not stop me loving you or keeping you by my side.”

It was strange to hear that, and yet comforting that he would admit it to her. “Thank you.” She found his hand, brought it to her mouth, and kissed it.

“Now tell me your deep dark secret. I know you have one.”

She froze. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? No. Not good enough, dear. You will tell me. Think on it. Remember, we trust each other.”

Those last words rendered her silent. I know I have to say. But fear clutched her too. I have to. But what if he acts on it?

Chapter Twenty-Four

“There’s no hurry. I can see it worries you.” The baritone of Dankyo’s voice so near to her seemed to vibrate straight into her mind. She loved that rumbly sound.

Lying here, cuddling against him on the sofa after making love, made her wonder how anything could ever be so perfect again. But… Tell him her deepest, darkest secret?

She frowned, took his hand, and manipulated his big manly fingers, pressing the flesh of her fingertip along his square nails while she thought. He’s waiting. Like he trusts me to tell him eventually. Oh God. Trust again. He trusts me, and here I am balking at the first hurdle. Her eyes grew wet. Here goes.

“I…” She wiggled. This was excruciating. How ridiculous. Why did she find this like straining solid rock through a sieve? “I have this fantasy. That I…um…am raped.” Then she stumbled on, talking fast, not wanting to hear him tell her it was silly, and also wanting to confess it all in one big lump. “Like I have no choice. The idea turns me on. I used to dream about it.” She paused. Though not as much lately, not since I’ve been here in Byzantium, with you. “But I don’t really want to be raped. It’s pure fantasy.”

She cringed inside and waited.

As calmly as if she’d just recited a shopping list, Dankyo said, “I can do fantasies.”

What? What did that mean? “I didn’t—”

“You said it’s a fantasy of yours. Well, I can do it.”

The air seemed ready to combust with the wrong word. Her words came out squeaky. “You can do rape?”

“If you want to. Not real. Safe. Pretend. No injuries, of course. You take care not to claw my eyes out, and I do the same. You need a word to use in case you want to stop. Not no, something else. I won’t tell you when, just that I will do it. Does that sound good?”

Good? Holy… The silence stretched while her mind clawed through the possibilities. Should I do this? Do I want to? But already her body stirred with heat. Her groin throbbed. “Yes.” She found she was holding his hand tightly and lessened the pressure. “That sounds good.”

“Your secret was better than mine.”

“Uh—”

“Wait! Shh.” He sat up and held up his hand, then wormed out from behind her and padded toward the bedroom. From the pile of his clothes, he retrieved a small knife.

Had he heard something? She vaguely recalled some small noise. Sofia peered over the top of the sofa and watched him step through the opening into the bedroom. Someone slowly arose from beyond the bed. Even before the woman had fully straightened, the glimpse of her dark hair allowed Sofia to recognize her. Tansu.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” She bowed and then went to her knees and bowed again. “I’m so sorry!”

Dankyo had paused, knife pointed toward the floor—still naked, and though familiar, the solid breadth of his shoulders still took away Sofia’s breath.

Whatever was Tansu doing here? Now? Had she seen them have sex? It seemed likely.

“Why are you here? Or better yet, why did you not leave earlier?” Dankyo’s voice boomed out.

Hurriedly, Sofia clambered off the sofa, ran to the pile, and picked up his shirt. She slipped it on as she ran indoors. Tansu was a friend and with Dankyo bearing down on her, she’d be terrified.

“Wait, I know her! Tansu, what are you doing in here?”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I came to find out if you needed me.” Though red-faced, at least Tansu wasn’t crying—a relief considering the depth of Dankyo’s scowl as he stood over her with that dreadfully sharp-looking knife. “I didn’t notice what was happening at first, and when I saw, I was afraid to…disturb you.”

“Ah.” She had seen them having sex, then, and Dankyo tying her up. Heat flared across Sofia’s cheeks.

Then Tansu raised her head, and her gaze centered on Sofia’s chest. The shirt had swung open. She clutched it closer. Her blush seemed to grow hotter.

“You know her well, Sofia?” Dankyo glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Shall we let her go?”

“Of course. Yes. You may go, Tansu. Next time be more discreet and leave the room.”

“I will, my lady. Thank you for being so kind.” Gracefully, Tansu climbed to her feet and headed for the door, her long blue skirt swishing over the rug, her slipper-clad feet quiet. The door closed behind her.

“A curious woman.” Dankyo placed the knife on the long chest at the end of the bed, then came to her.

With his arms around her, she felt serenity return. With her cheek on his chest, she couldn’t resist inhaling his scent.

“Did you notice how she stared at you, my lady? She seemed attracted. Whereas I didn’t get more than a fleeting look.”

“Oh. Um. Yes, she has shown some tendencies that way. She kissed me, once.”

“Did she?” Slowly he pushed the shirt from her shoulders until it slid to the floor. He cupped her breasts, and weighed them a moment, before slowly swirling his thumbs around her areolae. She hummed her approval and put her hands lightly over his. So nice. “And did you like it?”

The question bothered her. She screwed up her mouth. “A little. Maybe.”

“Interesting. Did I tell you, my lady, that your fantasy was to my approval?”

“I got that impression, yes,” she said drily. Funny, but now she’d told him her secret, it no longer made her so uncomfortable, just hot with anticipation. Especially with what he was doing to her nipples. A man’s rough calloused thumbs touching her there was enough to make her want to grind herself against something…him preferably. She eyed him.

“If I do your fantasy, expect me to incorporate mine. What will be your word for stopping everything?”

His fantasy? And so technical with all the details? But she guessed it had to be. This seemed odd, though, to arrange a rape like it was some sort of theater play. “Mermaid? No. Something more hard-hitting, like…crocodile? Yes, crocodile.”

He released one of her breasts, and his hand slid over her hip, then her buttocks. “I’ll remember. Crocodile. Now, for my requirements. Today and tomorrow, for several hours, you will wear a special plug up here.” He pressed the tip of his finger into her anus—she gasped at the suddenness—then wriggled his finger around in a circle. “A small one. I want to see what you can take.”

She held her breath. Odd, but Dankyo had that curious look on his face—expectant, almost as if he dared her to protest. Like always, having that part of her prodded was strange, yet enticing too. Sensations tickled to life. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I suppose.” Besides, she liked letting him do to her what he wanted to. That alone made it exciting.

His kiss on her neck while he kept playing down there made her clit stir to life. She wriggled.

“Good. And tomorrow, you will take a larger one. When will you be ready to unveil the Clockwork Warrior’s secret?”

“What?” She jerked her thoughts back from the fog of arousal. “Um. Day after, I guess. Can you stop doing that? Please.”

“No. You’re still so slippery all over down here.” He poked his finger in a half inch and slid his other hand down over her belly. When his finger and thumb clasped her clit, she sucked back a groan. “Ahh. This here says you like what I’m doing.” The fingertip in her nether hole slipped in and out. “Yes?”

“A little,” she choked out. “But, not now. I need to start work.”

“I’ll let you go, I suppose. I’ll decide on the day. I may take you down here.” He jiggled his finger. “And there’s another possibility that I may try.”

What did that mean? While she stood disconcerted and speechless, he slapped her bottom.

“I don’t know if I want this ‘possibility’ done to me.”

“Don’t forget your word.”

She couldn’t help frowning. Any mystery that involved unknown things being done to her body worried her.

Then he casually picked up his shirt and stalked outside to retrieve the rest of his clothes. When he returned, she’d still not moved. Question him more and try to dig up what he intended, or not? A week ago she’d have been taken in, and totally oblivious, but she could see he was amused by her reaction. The bastard. He was teasing her. And yet, she knew he meant it too.

No use asking him; he’d only get more amusement from that.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sofia sighed.

Sitting at the desk working on the calculations for the warrior puzzle wasn’t easy with a plug stuck into her back hole. Though she’d grown used to it, every so often her nerves would tweak back to life, and she’d find herself thinking of her body, and of how wet the towel she sat on was getting.

When Dankyo had insisted she be naked when she wasn’t working, she’d protested. It had made zero difference of course. Then he’d put the collar back on and said it looked sexy.

She ran her finger around the edge of the leather. This seemed to make her simply his—different, and so much better than being a slave.

She wasn’t supposed to be working right now. She’d stopped because of the headache coming on, and he’d told her not to try again, but she figured a little bit of discomfort was worth it if she got this done faster. His lifted eyebrow and mild glare weren’t going to stop her either.

So…no clothes and the plug, and damn, she was going to get this done anyway.

Though it wasn’t just the plug. Sometimes he wandered past and fondled a random part of her body. She recalled where he’d touched—her lips, her breasts, her clit… She let out a long breath. The last time he’d just massaged her shoulders. But not enough. Not anywhere near enough. She ached so much down below. Masturbating was not allowed either. Insufferable. Maddening. She’d self-combust any minute.

Luckily she’d had the idea to sit on a towel, or the chair would be wet. Hours yesterday with that little plug inside, and she wriggled just thinking of the size of the one she wore now. When she’d paused for that break, he’d made her bend over, then eased it in. Had he bought them at the bazaar? The thing had been nearly as big as his cock. Though, she guessed, that would be the whole point.

Damn. She sighed again and stared at the page. Her fingers ached where they clutched the pen. Concentrate! She held her head as if to squeeze some thoughts out, rubbed her throbbing temples, and sighed again. Was he really going to do this? If he did anything stupid she was going to say crocodile so fast Dankyo’s eyes would spin.

The huge sheet of paper rustled as her elbow slid on it.

Okay. The verses written on the plinth around him had been sorted out. To her surprise, they’d held a substitution code. That had led to unscrambling some of the references to the moveable joints on the warrior. She’d most of the color code worked out also. The one reliable text detailing the actual battles had led to yet another code. Now all she had to do was fit the measurements into the codes, though of course the measurements had a code embedded too.

And then, her all too reliable brain insisted, the final solution should fall into her lap. Intuition had told her the first manipulations she needed to make on the warrior, and this…this would show her the rest.

She stared at the color lithograph before her.

“I have you in my sights, Mr. Warrior.” With two fingers, she spun a pencil around in a circle.

Someone threw a cloth bag over her head, and she shrieked. They drew in the drawstring, then grabbed her wrists when she instinctively went to pull off the bag. Sucking in a breath proved that her mouth wasn’t covered—there must be a hole in the bag there.

Dankyo? It must be. Her heart pounded. He wrestled her hands behind her back, and held them firm in a grip of iron. Then the familiar slickly smooth feel of something cold slithered around her wrists. The clockwork bonds—it was him. Thank God.

She needed it to be him. Pretending it was a stranger had suddenly become wrong. Here and now, it was too frightening to contemplate another man. But if she knew it was him…how could it be her fantasy? The thoughts crammed into her head.

She was hoisted onto his shoulder and carried a few yards only to be lowered to the rug-covered floor, belly down. Her legs were straightened, but she could barely wriggle as his weight pinned them again. Fingers searched and made sure her mouth and nose were still clear of the bag.

A voice growled at her ear. “Now, I’m going to fuck your ass, whore.”

Dankyo never said fuck. Or whore. Amusement sneaked in and wouldn’t leave. Her mouth ached from trying not to grin, her lips quivered. She snorted, then giggled. The giggles shook her body.

She felt him sit up, though he still straddled her body with his thighs. When she kept intermittently giggling, he slapped the upper slope of her backside, once, twice. The sharp pain made her cease for all of two seconds. Tears were running down her cheeks. She snorted and nearly choked from suppressing the laughter.

“Okay. Explain, or I may throw you to the crocodile myself.” Dankyo fumbled at the drawstring and took off the bag.

“I’m sorry.” She blinked and turned her head, and saw him looking back at her, bemused yet patient.

But, she giggled again. “A bag over my head? Really? A bag! And you said fuck and whore. You never say those.” The grin stayed on her face. “I’m sorry, but my fantasy just isn’t working for me. Not today anyway.”

He was still clothed, and seeing that thick white shirt and his black trousers and belt, and with him sitting on her while she remained bound…oh yes, now she was getting hot. Then she added softly. “I think, with you, I don’t need it anymore.”

“No?” He rubbed the light bristles on his chin. “All that effort, and you giggle? Tansu looked night and day for that bag.”

He was joking, wasn’t he? She searched his face. Maybe. Half yes, half no. She squirmed. “Get off me.”

“No.” He leaned down, pinned her head in place with both hands, then bit her earlobe hard enough make her squeak and try to shake him off. She couldn’t.

“You’re too”—she tried to roll her shoulders—“too fat.” A giggle erupted. Oh my, am I going to get it.

“Are you attempting to anger me?” he murmured.

“Um.” She blinked. With him only inches away, staring back, with his large hand wrapped in her hair and the other one grasping her jaw, she lost her words. This was flirting with danger. That frisson of realization hit her, like it always seemed to when she was at his mercy.

He put his fingers into her mouth. “Suck. Keep your eyes open. I want to see you.”

That didn’t make sense, but she understood. He wanted to see her soul. The eyes were the mirror… He didn’t blink and slowly, quietly, she surrendered, felt the intimate threads of herself unravel and bow down to him and his desires. She licked at his fingers, then closed her mouth on them.

“Suck on me, Sofia,” he said quietly. “And your eyes stay open.”

Moisture trickled from her cleft. As easily as that, he had her. Her pussy clenched. The warmth of arousal seeped into her groin, then drifted through her as subtly as the dusting of pollen on the breeze.

As she sucked and licked at him, she struggled not to lower her eyelids, imagining his cock on her tongue instead of his thick fingers. Her toes curled, and she shivered.

“Good girl.” He took his wet fingers out, traced them over her lips and then up her cheek. While he ran them gently around inside the whorl of her ear, he continued, “So, the rape fantasy didn’t work. But I’m not done with you. Not at all.” His words settled on her.

She stayed silent, ensorcelled, playing with her lip with her tongue, tasting him again.

What do I need with a fantasy when I have this man? She didn’t need to pretend. He was more than her match and could overpower her in an instant.

He shifted and reached back, his hand brushing past her buttocks, then her thighs. Then he wiggled the plug, pulling on it and almost, but not quite, taking it out past the ring of her muscle. She whimpered. If done too quickly, that could be so excruciating.

“Can you move, Sofia?” His gaze was as relentless as the sun in the sky. “Can you?”

What a question. His grip on her hair would spike her with pain if she moved her head too far. His weight on her pelvis and his thighs pressed either side of her buttocks meant she couldn’t move there either. Only her legs were free. He knew the answer. He wanted her to acknowledge that she was trapped. Her clit pulsed.

She inhaled, once, breathing in his weight and the dominating presence of his body. “No. I can’t.”

“Am I fat?” He tweaked her hair.

“Ow!”

The curve at one corner of his mouth gave away his amusement, but she didn’t dare say anything insulting.

“No.”

“Better. Now I’m going to string you up and do what I like to you.”

String you up. The words avalanched through her. The blood fled her veins. But, she wanted this so much. Scary sexiness, thy name is Dankyo.

Without fuss, he tied her ankles together, picked her up, took her to the bed, and laid her on it facedown. A bundle of white ropes lay near her nose. He showed her four black leather cuffs, then placed them on the bed. Now and then, as he buckled them onto her wrists and ankles, he’d stop and play with the plug in her nether hole. She protested once. But he punished that with a slap on her rear. The slap jarred the plug. Ouch. So not fair.

Her ass stung. Yet the indignity and the punishment had made her so swollen and wet. She wriggled her clit against the quilt, dying for relief.

“Now.” He’d gotten off the bed and was staring upward at a chain hanging from the ceiling. “They tell me this is sufficient to hold a monstrous weight. And I seem to recall you’re my mermaid, not a monster. My wriggly, soft mermaid.”

He picked her up and carried her to the middle of the room.

Once he had her standing beneath the chain, he untied her hands and feet, fastened her wrist cuffs together, and did as he’d threatened, strung her from the ceiling. She blinked.

Naked. With her arms stretched above her head, she was so exposed. This seemed surreal.

“How is that?” As he walked around her, the light touch of his hand slowly spiraling from her back to her belly sent out ripples of heat.

“Good.”

“Good? Since you giggled at the rape, I shall try other things, my lady. Dark things.” He smiled, then unthreaded the belt from the loops on his trousers. After tossing the belt onto the bed, he draped several pieces of the rope across one shoulder, then moved in on her, flatfooted, stalking—a man with a target in his sight.

She swallowed and watched him, unblinking, craning her neck to keep him in view. What were dark things? Or was he only teasing her? Feeling a rising ache, she tensed her thighs, pressing them onto her clit.

Though she could stand on the soles of her feet, there was no way to escape. Even if she could escape, he’d run her to earth in this room. That fleeting idea made her shiver. The tiled floor was cold. As his gaze travelled over her body, her nipples bunched tight. Like a slave at an auction, she was on display and helpless.

“Do you like this?” Dankyo circled her. When he was behind her, the end of a rope snapped at her side and then her buttocks.

“Ow!” The whip and slap echoed in her flesh. Had he knotted the rope?

Another, two, three, four, hits stung her.

Ducking was impossible. The spits of pain spun like embers blown by a high wind. Heat gathered, licking at her, making her cleft swell, taunting her. She arched, presenting her bottom to the rope.

“Answer me.”

Sofia squirmed, twisting her feet. “Yes,” she said thickly. Lust clogged her throat. “Mmm.”

“You want me to keep going?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm.”

He draped a rope over the back of her neck, took it down between her breasts, then proceeded to wrap and tie it about her upper body, drawing the rope tight until her breasts were firmly caged. Blood filled them with each pulse, and each throb beat further, deeper, making her pant. She looked down—her breasts were like fruit bursting with ripeness.

“Gorgeous, my lady.” He put both hands on her at once, holding her breasts, then bent to lightly kiss each nipple. The sensation buried her. A moan broke from her mouth.

“Dankyo…”

“Yes?” Hands still on her breasts, he caressed her as he waited.

“Please, touch me.” She dragged in air through her nose, groaned again while grasping the rope above to stop herself collapsing. If he kept doing that, she’d come. She tried to thrust herself onto his thigh, but he moved.

“Soon. Not yet.”

This time her groan was one of frustration.

Another rope he took between her legs, bypassing her clit. When the rope was tied at her back, a knot slid between her plump labia, and another slid right over her clit. So wet. Her thighs felt the spill of moisture. Her legs weakened. She closed her eyes, imagining how she must look to him.

“Much much better.” Dankyo came up behind her and tightened the rope at her back. “Lovely. You look like you’ll split in two if this goes tighter.” He put his hand over her mound and wiggled one finger down along the moist rope, exploring, arousing her, dipping into her cleft, then out. “This rope goes so far up into your pussy that your lips meet over the top of it.”

She squeaked and quivered. Controlled. Subject to his will.

I want. I want so much.

Do something! Bite me. Spank me. Put yourself inside me. She gasped and spread her legs as his fingers thrust into her vagina.

“I love this—being able to do what I want to you.”

Standing behind her, with his chin above her ear, he cradled a breast in his palm, rolling the nipple to and fro with finger and thumb. He pinched a path down to her cleavage and up the other side. Though he was dressed, his cock prodded at her back, sometimes bumping the anal plug. And all the while, his fingers kept on pinching and scoring and tracing over every part of her belly, thighs, and breasts.

Small bites of pain, small nibbles of pleasure, and they rolled together into one, until every beat of her heart seemed to lift her skin from her body.

She sagged against him, gasping. Her thighs were wet. Everywhere throbbed. Her mind hazed.

“You give me evil ideas,” he whispered.

He did something that tightened the rope at her back. If she relaxed onto the flats of her feet, the rope went even higher into her pussy.

“Don’t come,” he added. “Don’t come, or I will punish you so badly.”

“Nooo.” She knew she wailed but couldn’t help it. “I need to!”

“Shh.”

The rope was sodden with her juices already. Now…now it became a part of her torture. She went onto her toes but couldn’t stay there for long. Her clit throbbed in time with her skin where he’d marked it. He began again, holding her while he conducted his strange experiment of pain and pleasure on every square inch of the front of her body, pinching her hard, then soft, then denting her skin with his nails.

He stopped and felt her wrists. “Are you numb, hurting in your arms?”

Where? She focused, dredged up logical thought from the depths of her mind. “No.”

“Don’t come,” he reminded her. “Tell me if you want to.”

Don’t come. Throb throb. The words and her clit and her skin pulsed in perfect rhythm with her heart. Fascinated, she listened to her body. It took the first strike of his belt to shock her back into clarity.

Pain streaked across her buttock. Heat flared. The rope squashed into her groin. She went up on her toes again. But the belt kept smacking at her, and then her toes started to hurt. After fifteen…or was it ten strokes—she lost count—she cried out.

He paused.

Mouth gaping open, sweat dribbling down her forehead, she gasped a few times. “Stop. Stop. I’m going to come.”

Head down, staring at her distant feet, she tried to forget the incredible tension in her groin, to forget that incredible perfect moment waiting, waiting for a last touch.

“Good.” Dankyo ran both hands down her sides, then wiggled the plug and slowly drew it from her. When the biggest part of it was on the verge of leaving her, she gasped, then jumped as he popped it out.

She listened with her eyes shut as he undressed. Heard the slick sounds of lubrication being applied.

Footsteps.

The way he studied her as he approached made her wonder what he planned. His erection fascinated her. It glistened with moisture, and she imagined herself impaled on there. God. Yes, please. Her clit and the rope and the way he’d made her skin feel all tumbled together.

He stopped before her and stroked her cheek. The hard yet speculative look made her wonder at his thoughts. “You make a delicious victim, Sofia.”

She swallowed. I’m standing here all tied up and aching. The ropes, and how they held her, made her body clamor for attention. Begging was so undignified. “I want to come.” That was nearly a whine. Don’t care. Do. Not. Care.

“I know.” His mouth quirked.

You bastard. “Pleeese?” She wiggled back up on her toes, only to feel the knot of the rope stir her clit.

“Are these okay?” He indicated the ropes but didn’t touch her.

Bastard. She inhaled deep while looking at the floor. “Yes.”

“This is my fantasy.”

He clicked his fingers. “Come in!”

Her gaze snapped upward.

The door opened, and Tansu entered. She shed her red skirt and tunic as she walked. By the time she reached the bed, she was naked.

Oh. Sofia looked at Dankyo.

“I want to see you come with a woman’s mouth on you.”

She rested her tongue on her upper lip. Tansu stared back, blatantly studying Sofia’s body. Tingles spread like wildfire through her, reawakening the need. Dare I?

“If you’re wondering,” he added, “I’m not making her do this. She wants to. But this will be once only. I’m not going to touch Tansu, only you, unless both of you want otherwise.” He came to her, put his palm on her chin, and tilted her face so she must look into his eyes. “Either way, I am making love to you how I want to. Unless you use your word.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

She’d seen Tansu many times, but never naked. And she’d never seen another woman in this way—sexually. Not truly—not when the sex was imminent, and not when she hung in ropes, exposed, and dying to be allowed to orgasm. For a fragment of a second, Tansu wore a bold look on her face that said she too regarded Sofia as a most delicious victim.

Where was the subservient slave girl?

As the woman sauntered forward, it was impossible not to look at her luscious carmine-tinted lips, at the feminine curves of her full breasts and hips, and on her bare mound, at the tantalizing line marking the opening of her sex.

Sofia shivered and barely stopped herself from squirming. With her hands bound above her and the marks of Dankyo’s beating still throbbing on her skin, she felt like a sacrifice.

Tansu paused before her, legs shoulder-width apart, eyes bright, and her gaze cruised downward, lingering pointedly on Sofia’s bound breasts, then on her mons.

The tiny smile on Tansu’s face was triumphant.

Am I simply an object?

“She is beautiful. May I, sir?” Tansu’s gaze flicked over Sofia’s shoulder.

“You may do whatever you wish to Sofia.”

The rope that carved between her labia loosened and fell away. She could stand flatfooted again. But his words resonated.

In her heart, she knew Dankyo would not allow harm to be done, but still… I am an object, in this moment. The thoughts thudded into her. I’m a possession, a thing, here for them to play with. Her pulse accelerated.

“Thank you.” As reverent as a sculptor approaching a work of art, Tansu raised a hand and stroked down Sofia’s cheek. Her words were quiet. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Sofia stopped breathing. I’m caught, wrapped up, and delivered. But what stunned her most was how much Tansu’s lips enticed her.

Yet as Tansu came in for a kiss, she ducked away.

“Stay.” Dankyo gripped a handful of her hair, and she felt it wound tight by his fist. “Be still. I have given you to Tansu to play with.” Sofia quivered. Tension ached through her. Then he kissed her neck.

This time the triumph was blatant, stamped on Tansu’s face, on her moves, on the way she fitted herself softly yet astutely into Sofia’s body. It crumbled down to one thing—dominance. Breast to breast, her body pressed against Sofia’s; then her lips came in and took. She engulfed Sofia’s mouth, and her tongue thrust between her lips.

With Dankyo holding her in place, Sofia could enjoy without guilt. Guilt…something called to her there. The truth was, she wanted this, and she succumbed and answered Tansu’s kiss with her own tongue and lips.

“That’s it,” Tansu whispered, with her hands on Sofia’s buttocks. “Kiss me.”

Crocodile. The word was in her mind. But the prospect of being toyed with by both Dankyo and Tansu almost unhinged her. She’d reached some impossible level of arousal and might disintegrate at any moment.

The little soft duel of their tongues, and Tansu’s breath mingling with hers; these things occupied Sofia for a bare second. Everything else whirled in—Dankyo’s hard muscles behind her, Tansu’s softer form in front; they boxed her in, ran their hands over her engorged breasts, her pussy, her legs, and up into her cleft.

The rising tide of a climax absorbed her. She shuddered, and fresh moisture leaked from her slit. She twisted her toes into the floor, arched forward her pelvis. A little more, a little more.

“More,” she choked out the word, half aware Tansu had stopped kissing her.

There was laughter. Not Dankyo’s—it was soft and feminine.

“Shh.” Like some luscious siren from a myth come to taunt her, Tansu moved down her body, leaving a path of cooling kisses on her neck. When Tansu reached her breasts, Sofia tried to shuffle back, but Dankyo was there, his cock prodding at her anus, his hands spreading the cheeks of her ass.

The rope cage had left her breasts so full, and so sensitive. Each touch was like a blissful fire.

Small hands cradled them. A gentle heat engulfed one nipple. Tansu’s mouth. She looked down to see her sucking, then felt the tongue sweep across her aching nipple. Dankyo’s phallus penetrated—a thick delicious invasion, stretching her just that extra fraction, enough to make it hurt. She panted, accommodating the burn. Yet she wanted more. The sucking and licking, the capture of her breasts, the slow thrust up into her nether hole—as swift as lightning, she lifted into the onslaught of an orgasm, and was trapped there, shaking, gasping, crying out her pleasure.

Exhausted, she clutched the rope above. She would not collapse, would not give Tansu that satisfaction. Something made her want to deny that last surrender. Mouth open and with her chest still heaving, she waited, trembling, trying to recover her composure. The woman smiled back—a placid and utterly confident smile.

Damn her. She thinks I’m hers. She wants to conquer me. As logic returned, she saw that and resisted. I’m Dankyo’s, not yours.

Tansu folded her knees and slithered downward, her mouth bestowing baby kisses on Sofia’s belly. Each one made her shiver. Kneeling, Tansu cupped Sofia’s sex.

“You’re so pretty, Sofia.” As light as a brush on canvas, Tansu traced her fingernail around Sofia’s clit, circling, circling.

Mesmerizing—a woman’s mouth near her most private place. Sofia stared into those light brown eyes. Specks of light reflected like gold.

Tansu laid her cheek on Sofia’s thigh. “I’m going to make you come again, while your man makes love to you. I may never have you again, but I want you mine for a little while. Please?” As she spoke, Dankyo slid all the way in. His balls touched the back of Sofia’s thighs. He bit her neck, and she hauled in a breath.

Please? The asking changed everything.

Her anus clamped onto Dankyo’s shaft, the little muscles in her entrance stretched to their limits. Panting, pushed forward by his thrust, she blinked at Tansu. A second thrust forced a squeak from her. Strands of hair draped across her eyes. She nodded, then choked out, “Yes.”

Another tender kiss was pressed onto her inner thigh, while Tansu kept her fingernail going around and around. “Thank you. Now, I’m going to eat you all up.”

Her simple words tumbled through Sofia, rolling up her defenses.

Tansu poked out her tongue and dabbed a tiny lick right on the top of Sofia’s clit. Electricity. Sheer ecstatic electricity.

Sure her eyes were wide as a sea, Sofia whimpered. Dankyo thrust in and out, slowly, gentle in a way. He halted, ground himself deep, then said something guttural she couldn’t understand.

Tansu held up her hand with her three fingers coned together, then worked them a half inch into Sofia’s vulva. Her entrance tightened, released. “This time, your screams are mine. Do you want me to fuck you, Sofia?”

What would it be like with Tansu inside her too?

“Answer her.” Dankyo shoved even higher, almost lifting her feet off the ground. Then he stilled, held her there. She curled her fingers on the rope and wanted to wriggle on him, wanted him to move.

Oh God, yes. Yes, I do.

“Sofia? Do you want me to fuck you?” Such a pretty delicate woman, yet Tansu’s words had power.

Reluctantly, she said, as faintly as she could, “Yes.”

“Say it properly, Sofia. What do you want?” That tongue, that diabolical tongue, dabbed out again and swirled on the very top of her clit. Those gold-and-brown eyes. Hand held at her pussy. Dominance. Pleasure. Submission.

She trembled, groaned at the spreading bliss.

“Yes! Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please, please, fuck me.”

“Good girl.” Dankyo slid his hands around to cup her breasts and put his thumbs atop her nipples.

They both thrust into her at once. The rhythm reverberated. They pounded up into her. Pumping, surging, rocking her flesh.

She heard her grunting animal noises and could do nothing to hold them in. “Mmm. Uhh. Mmm.”

Every moment forced her higher. They filled her with cock and fingers—a seesaw of sweaty, sticky lovemaking. With ropes and flesh and their will, they held her in thrall.

Like a minivolcano placed right over the top of her most sensitive part, Tansu’s mouth swallowed up her clit.

So hot. A woman’s mouth on her. Tongue on her. Oh, that tongue. Dankyo inside her ass. Her mind shuttled through all the dirty, glorious, sexual things they did.

The licking, the multiple thrusts, the way they both took her as if it was their right, it flung her higher. Her nipples and breasts, her very skin hungered, and crammed to bursting.

I’m taken, filled. My body is theirs.

A last flat-tongued lick swept over her clitoris. Ecstasy blasted through her. She screamed and hung in limbo, her torso undulating, her muscles and mind claimed by the primitive instincts of sex. Neck and back arched, Sofia gasped, and rapture washed her away. Blackness tumbled in.

The room was lost, floating somewhere in space beyond her limbs. She sagged, limp, unable to do more than breathe.

Sofia was dimly aware of the ropes being untied and of someone placing her on the bed. People touched her, moved her, soothed her with words. She made her eyelids open and saw Tansu looking down at her.

“Thank you,” Tansu whispered.

She smiled, then wafted away into the floating place again. Someone cuddled up behind her. Another, softer, person snuggled in front. She sighed and fell into the warmth of sleep. Loved. It was the best…

* * * *

Dankyo woke when the bed moved. Tansu was getting out of bed.

He raised his head, careful not to jar Sofia who was nestled into the gap between his arm and chest. “Tansu.” He waved her over.

“Sir?” She hesitated, her clothes in hand, then came to his side of the bed. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Around her eyes was dark, but apart from that he could see no signs of stress. Yet while they’d made love to Sofia, her passions had come to the fore.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Then she bent and took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I’m very grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

A gorgeous woman, the sway of her naked ass as she walked to the door would entice any man. He hoped she saw the truth here—that this would never happen again. That was logic, though. Emotions were harder to control.

The deep black of her hair and olive tone of her skin meant she was likely a slave born somewhere near Byzantium. Pity surfaced. He dismissed it. Nothing to be done. I can’t rescue slaves from the emperor-bey.

Damn, though. Damn.

He ran through everything in his mind, especially that little interview he’d done the day before to see whether joining him and Sofia was to her taste. The lack of body clues from Tansu seemed a little strange. Her desire for Sofia was genuine, yet she had the schooled reactions of someone trained not to show her feelings. The result of years in the harem? Perhaps.

Whatever her reasons, seeing her tangled with his little Sofia and eliciting pleasure from her, licking between her thighs, that was a memory to treasure.

He turned to his beautiful lady and smiled, then lay back down and gently pulled her close.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Her little good-bye to Dankyo was still on her mind when she arrived at the Clock Warrior. When her escort had come to their room, Dankyo had opened the door and stood ramrod straight, trying to be all stiff and correct. She paused there, before stepping over the threshold. The look in his eyes—she couldn’t read him, until his hand smoothed down her back, and an eyebrow twitched.

He’s worried.

Well, there was something she could do for him. She went up on her toes, put her palm to his cheek, and kissed him. “I’ll be back soon.” She rested her head on his chest and slid her hand down to hug him. The officials could wait. “Mmm. You smell so good.”

“You too, my lady.”

And they’d hugged for a moment, breathing together.

At the memory, she couldn’t stop the small upward curve of her lips and ducked her head a moment. Then she looked about.

The parade of people accompanying the emperor-bey was daunting. Thirty people at least, including Xiang, and Tansu, and all arrayed in a semicircle before the entrance to the Clockwork Warrior’s sanctum. The sun gleamed down through the high glass ceiling, and the birds above cast flitting winged shadows across the grass. Even the janissary who’d commanded her to have slave training was here, dressed in some finery that gleamed with rich gold and purple embroidery, and with his beard perfectly pruned.

What a horrible man. She’d thought him not privy to the emperor-bey’s secret, thought he’d been unaware of her true place in all of this. But he must have known then that she was no slave. Head of the Household Garden, someone had called him? Arrogant bastard. Byzantium seemed full of those. She stifled a yawn and looked about, spotted Tansu kneeling to the left of the official droning on about how this was an auspicious occasion.

Some secret. Half the emperor-bey’s court must know. And here she’d thought this would be a low-key affair.

When she had awoken that afternoon, Tansu had already gone. And she hadn’t seen her again until the woman arrived at their room to escort her here. The five palace guards accompanying Tansu had made conversing about anything personal an impossibility. So she’d merely sent her a concerned glance and left it at that.

Somehow, she needed to say farewell after the ceremony. Since Dankyo had arranged for them to leave as soon as the emperor-bey allowed them to, the chance of talking properly to Tansu seemed slim.

But the woman deserved something. It was clear to both her and Dankyo that she held some deep affection for Sofia. Leaving without saying good-bye would be awful.

“Miss Sofia White.”

Oops. The expectant look on the face of the official calling her, and the irritated one upon the emperor-bey’s made her wonder if she’d missed the first call.

The door to the glasshouse sat open, and four guards waited within. Just as she’d requested. And everyone was watching her.

She heaved in a deep breath. “Time to begin.” What a pity Dankyo had not been allowed in. How much she’d come to lean on him in such a short time. But, I like it that way. And she couldn’t help smiling to herself as she was ushered through the door. This was her big day, and she was thinking of returning to him, her wonderful lover, as much as she was of the clockwork puzzle.

“Can you begin? Do you need notes?” The emperor-bey stood beside her, looking up at the warrior.

“I don’t need notes. It’s up here.” She touched her forehead. “But yes, I can begin, Your Serenity.” Of course I can. She shut her eyes for a second. The facts and many diagrams she’d done shuffled to the forefront of her mind.

“Then do so.” He retreated to the glass wall, and the four guards stepped up.

Concentrate. Begin. The first step in the process. The color code of the mosaic. But before that—the first key. She climbed onto the plinth, searched for, and found the place among the spines of his head. She turned this first one no more than a fraction of an inch, then did another spine, then the next. All precisely as foretold. The last time, a spine clicked and turned a full circle on its base. Yes. Oh my God. It’s working.

She climbed down, only shaking a tiny bit. Then with a slow deliberate step, she went around the periphery of the warrior, pressing at the correct colored tiles. They moved where they never could have before. A loud clunk sounded from within the warrior. Something spun with a metal-on-metal click.

“There. Follow my instructions.” She waved the men forward.

At her direction, they turned a segment of an arm. The warrior leaned backward by half a foot. The watching crowd gasped.

Within half an hour, she had lowered him until his back was only a few degrees from fully lying on the ground. The manipulations had left the guards sweating, the crowd restless, and she was almost sure her eyes would be glowing. Amazing and several swear words had popped up inside her head every few minutes. Nothing went wrong. Nothing.

The warrior lay flat on his back. The sword had lifted from inside his torso and ran horizontally, having revealed another several foot of its length.

I’m right. I am so damn right. “The last permutation,” she announced, proud her voice barely trembled.

From the massed crowd, Sofia picked out Tansu. The woman looked so grim. Poor woman. I have to talk to her. If only she could be freed. The contrast between their circumstances had become so vast it left a chasm inside her soul.

Slavery was a cursed thing. She liked being able to choose. I can walk away, though. Tansu cannot. The terrible realization cast a shadow on the ceremony.

But this is why I am here. She tore her thoughts from Tansu’s plight. I must finish what I began.

The emperor-bey came forward and peered at the warrior. “I never thought this would be the result. What will happen? What will this next step reveal?”

Sofia swallowed, her throat dry, her heart beating fast enough to outpace a gazelle.

“I don’t know. I only know the steps.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Then I will wait outside. Xiang will stay to watch.”

He thought it could be dangerous. That had never occurred to her. I suppose…it could be possible. No. I finish this. She didn’t really believe there would be danger.

The last manipulation was hers. The hands still clasped the pommel of the sword. She ran a finger over the cool metal and stone, then took each hand and turned them outward at the same time. The vibrations of whirring clockwork joints came through to her fingers. Slowly, the sword slid an inch, two inches, three, toward the feet of the warrior, and a cavity rose from within the warrior’s chest. Inside the cavity lay a small pale blue book on a silver-colored metal grill.

The hands clicked and halted and refused to turn any farther.

Done. I have done it. Grinning, she looked back at the awestruck crowd, then waved to the emperor-bey.

Xiang leaned in, peered at the book, and sniffed. “Is that it?”

“Should I pick up the book? Or would you rather?” It wasn’t smoking or ticking, was it?

“This?” Casually, Xiang reached in and plucked the book from its little shrine. She paused as if waiting to see what would happen, and when nothing did, she tossed the book to Sofia.

She fumbled but managed not to drop it.

“Is that it?” The emperor-bey’s question echoed Xiang’s.

“Yes, Your Serenity.” Palms together with the book lying across them, she reverently held out the book.

“Well.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Read it, then. Are there plans for more warriors? Real ones? Not just”—he waved at the Clockwork Warrior—“ones who lie there. You know, I thought there would be some proper soldiers.” The querulous rise in his voice alarmed Sofia.

What fools these are. A centuries-old puzzle is solved after mountains of work, and they dismiss it. She bent her head and opened the book, turned the pages. One hundred pages. Poetry?

“Well? Are there diagrams?”

“No.” She looked up. “No, Your Serenity. This is a book of poetry. There is a chance this may conceal more clues however. Might I copy this? So I can study it when I return to my university?”

He regarded her steadily for seven or eight seconds. “Yes. You may. Now.” He beckoned, and the janissary approached. “I wish this area to be cleared. I will officially reward Miss White at the Garden of Audiences in one hour. Thank you for your work, Miss White.” He smiled. “You have done well.”

Have I? It didn’t seem as if anyone appreciated what she’d done at all. She sighed. Blast. At least I get a copy of the book to take home with me. And I get the prestige of having solved this.

And…she got to go home with Dankyo. That seemed a far larger reward than she deserved. The fates had been kind to her in at least one aspect.

The one disappointment was that when she arrived at their room, Dankyo had already been taken away to bathe. The efficiency of the palace meant she had to wait to see him at the Garden of Audiences.

She sighed and looked around the empty room. He’d know she had succeeded with the Clockwork Warrior and she’d wanted to tell him herself.

Can’t be helped.

She shrugged off the inconvenience and managed to still have a smile on her face as they led her up the granite steps to the high plateau of the audience area. A brisk wind swept across, rattling the trees. Opposite her, at the end of a corridor of armored warriors, the emperor-bey sat on his throne. To his left, Xiang stood beside the throne, resplendent in armor and black.

Dry leaves skittered across the path before her as she took the final step.

To the right, behind a tall metal fence that resembled a giant bird cage, Henry’s copy of the Clockwork Warrior had been installed. As the hour rang on some distant clock, the warrior came to life and began a series of tremendous sword strikes. The rush of the air split by his sword sounded like the tearing of silk, or the swoop of a giant bird’s wing.

She recognized one of the katas Dankyo had taught her—a precise sequence of moves, perfectly executed by this clockwork automaton. Spectacular. Joints creaked and spun, machinery whirred, but for something so big, he was terribly quiet. Henry had designed him to change the katas each hour. She could see the attraction for the emperor-bey—this nineteen-year-old man who’d had his childhood cut short by the demands of his office. Truly, this was an appropriate gift for the ruler of a nation.

She smiled down the long corridor of men at the emperor-bey. He raised his hand and smiled back. Something about the set of his mouth and eyes jolted her. Even at that distance, she saw the grim satisfaction—it was the sort of smile you expect on a man who sees something he’s always wanted on sale for the first time in many years.

A hand clamped around her right wrist. The guard there held her. The grip was tight enough to hurt.

“Hey!” She turned to remonstrate with him. While she was in midturn, her left wrist was captured. With an angry hiss, scowling, she glanced to the other. “You can’t—”

The man behind her came up close and jammed something hard and rod-like across her mouth, forcing it between her teeth. She spit and tried to throw her head about, but they held her. Though she struggled and screamed as much as she could, they dragged her to the throne.

Panting, her hair in wild strands across her face, with spit dribbling past the metal gag, she glared at the emperor-bey.

He leaned forward and examined her, smiling. “You’re pretty. Though not so much when you get yourself all disturbed. But, I think I’ll keep you.”

“Your Serenity—” Xiang took a pace forward.

“No.” He held up his hand. “I’ve decided. You get the man. It is enough.”

Though she hesitated, Xiang bowed. “Yes, of course.”

The hate in Xiang’s eyes shocked Sofia into stillness. She wanted to do something. Anything. This was ridiculous, but she couldn’t speak. While she’d fought, she must have cried, though she hadn’t known it. Now her nose was blocked and threatened to run. She sniffed, listened to her racing heart and the scouring drag of her breathing past the metal. And couldn’t even wipe her nose, because they held her.

Not good. Oh God, this is so not good.

What was happening? Why? Had failing to give the emperor-bey what he wanted caused this?

“Over there. Tie her down.” He pointed to the right.

Sofia tried to choke out a word. Her tongue touched the bit, and the sound came out as a half grunt.

“What?” He put his hand to his ear.

Hand on the pommel of her sword, Xiang leaned in. “I think she is saying why, Your Serenity.”

“Ahh.” He flourished his hand. “Well. You must explain, then.”

With tremors rippling through her, and her wrists still held by the guards, Sofia waited. This was important. Perhaps, if she knew, she could tell them how wrong they were. This was some awful terrible stupid mistake.

In three casual strides, Xiang came to her, then poised a fingernail under her chin and made Sofia lift her head. “The reason is this. You remember the man I could not decide whether to kill or take to my bed?

Oh God. She knew this was headed somewhere bad. Not Dankyo. It couldn’t be. She tried to drop her gaze, but Xiang took her chin in a cruel grip. Her fingernails wedged in and cut.

“No. Look at me! Your Dankyo is the reason. He left me to die many years ago. Deserted me after he promised…” Red suffused Xiang’s face. Her teeth showed as she spat the words. “He promised to be with me, to help me, to keep me from harm! He left me to die.

“I will. Make. Him. Suffer.” The anger made her eyes seem to glisten and swell from their sockets.

Then she released Sofia’s chin and went to step back.

Now or never. Something made her do it. She kicked Xiang in the crotch, her toes glancing off hard-muscled thigh. It mightn’t have done much, but she grinned around the gag and slobbered out, “Gotchu. Ha-ha.”

The sword appeared as if by magic before her. The point quivered an inch from her mouth.

“Don’t!” The emperor-bey’s voice. “Don’t. Have her stripped and tied down. Now!”

There wasn’t much else she managed to do after that, though she tried and threw herself about as much as she could. She was one woman against many men. Despite using every muscle she could bring to bear, they tore off her clothes and bound her with her arms above her head to a curved metal bench.

While she was still sucking in air, gasping and choking, Xiang’s face loomed in above, blocking out the sky.

“There. Better. You are lucky. Instead of me torturing you endlessly, you are to become one of the harem. Your lover is coming here now.” A ring of gold sat on her fingertip, glinting. “All you have to do is sit still and get this put in.”

She swallowed. What is it? Realization dawned. A clit ring. She strained against the straps, but nothing gave. Trapped, legs splayed and tied.

“I will enjoy this if you scream. But I will savor his agony forever.”

Her petty terrors shrank, and this new one clamored for attention. Dankyo is coming. No, oh no.

Whatever Xiang planned to do to him, it would be far, far worse than what would happen to her. Her heart threatened to tear open from the rawness of her pain. No. Please. Let him escape. Please.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sofia’s last kiss on his cheek, and the feel of her little body snuggling into him—those memories burrowed down into Dankyo’s stomach. They were painful, like a screw twisting tighter inside, because the signs were around him. The wrong signs.

The air clung like the smell of a lost battle. Betrayal. Some primeval part of his mind warned him. Long ago he’d somehow worked out a way to warn himself of oncoming badness. With a hundred and more vicious fights in his past, he just knew.

Betrayal. Had to be. Here in the palace, surrounded by thousands of people who bowed to the emperor-bey, what else could it be?

Something had gone amiss in the solving of the puzzle. But what?

They’d made him undress completely. Everything was gone—his knife, even the key he’d carried about his neck for all these days. Then, after he’d been bathed under the watch of a quintet of guards and a bevy of women who soaped him while they giggled, he’d been given a plain white tunic and pants to wear. No shoes even.

No shoes.

That rang the alarm bells the loudest. Despite his pretended indifference, the guards had known. The subtle shift in their stance, the way their eyes focused on him, the drift of their hands toward their weapons—yes, they were ready for trouble.

He could kill some of the men, maybe all, if he had an opening and got hold of a weapon. His chances of making it out of the palace were slim, but not impossible. There were ways. He knew the least-watched routes and two or three possible exits through, over, or under the outer walls.

And he couldn’t do any of it. Because he’d never leave Sofia.

If he left her here, he might not be able to return. This was not his country, and he could not rely on his own country, the Hellene Nation, taking enough of an interest in a single citizen—not when such interference might start a war. If he left, she might be killed. They might do so and then simply pretend she had ceased to exist, and he’d never know why.

That idea ran shivering pangs through him and clogged his throat.

No. Can’t afford weakness. He opened and closed his fists and allowed a little anger to leak in. His heartbeat thudded louder but slowed, and the room brightened. Wait. Listen. Observe.

So he simply kept his eyes open and his mouth shut as they walked, and absorbed everything that might help. Everything. There had to be a way out of this.

When he stepped out onto the path that led to the Garden of Audiences, even he was taken aback. All the way, for as far as he could see, the path was lined by soldiers and palace guards. More guards closed in behind him. The footbridge above the waterfall held guards spaced every yard. None looked directly at him. His palms grew sweaty. But he said nothing, only listened to the sound of his bare feet, the boots on the ground, the jingle of weaponry.

As Dankyo took the last few steps up to the audience area, the emperor-bey slowly appeared, like a creature arising from the depths. He sat as if he were merely a man at a tavern—legs askew, one draped over the top of the arm rest of the throne. Yet his clothes were those of state, many-layered, with an embroidered vest, a rich red coat, and dark trousers. Above him hung the white dome roof, and the white colonnade supports stood either side, beyond the walls of men.

These men watched him. Their swords were bared, point uppermost, with the blades resting on their shoulders. Those with FREN rifles had them unslung and ready to fire. He had zero chance of surviving here, if they attacked.

The copy of the Clockwork Warrior stood silent behind a huge cage that reached to the top of his head. Then four of the guards moved aside and revealed her.

He faltered and shut his eyes a moment. Deal with it. This is reality.

Sofia lay naked on her back, strapped with her hands above her head to a bench that curved upward then down again in an arc, so her legs and arms were lower than her torso. A bit gag was set between her teeth. Her eyes tracked his progress. Her hand signal was subtle yet clear. I’m okay. It did nothing to reassure him, especially since he could see the marks of tears on her face.

Signaling back might be noticed. He wrestled his breathing and heart down to something less than frantic and said nothing. But his nod and smile to her held oceans of thoughts. Be safe. Hold on. I am here. I am coming to fix this, somehow. Somehow.

If there was a way out, it must lie within negotiation.

Had Sofia’s solving of the puzzle somehow insulted the monarch? Had she failed to solve it? What had changed? Something had gone wrong. He could fix it once he knew the cause. Surely, he could? Except the humiliation they’d already dealt to Sofia was so great something dreadful must have occurred.

Be calm.

The ground was warm under his feet. His fingers were cold. When he was six yards from the emperor-bey, they halted him with a hand on his arm, then made him kneel and bow his head.

“Greetings, yet again, Dankyo of House Kevonis. I wish this were under happier circumstances.”

They let him raise his head. He swallowed on his dry throat.

“What may I help Your Serenity with?” He glanced at Sofia, then wrenched his gaze back. “I can see that something has occurred.”

“Indeed, it has.”

“May I ask what this might be?”

He wanted to shut his eyes but couldn’t. The answer was so important. Behind the emperor-bey seemed bright as the sun—his figure limned in light, pulsing. Dankyo waited. Beneath his palms that lay flat on the ground, grit pressed on his skin. The in-and-out hush of air in his lungs sounded as loud as the wash of waves on a beach.

The bound body of his love, of Sofia, loomed at the edges of his watering vision.

“What happened occurred many years ago. You have upset someone who is precious to me. And so, I must hand you over to Xiang.”

Xiang?

The name was so impossible he blanked. Yes, there once was a Xiang, but this could not be her.

To the left of the throne, the woman warrior in black armor and clothes but no helmet strolled forward. Her gait was as fluid as that of a leopard and as deadly. Her lustrous black hair was neatly trimmed to shoulder length. He recognized the movements of a skilled soldier, of a fighter…of someone ever alert and so practiced in the ways of war that they never shed their skin of awareness.

She stopped when only a yard in front of the emperor-bey—five yards from him—too far away for him to touch her without being shot, or skewered, or simply wrestled to the earth by ten guards. With her feet shoulder-width apart, she stood staring at him, like a creature behind bars at a zoo, palpably straining to come closer. Yet her feet didn’t move.

“Do you know me?” she asked.

“No.” It was the truth. Though the name…the name made him wonder. How? It was impossible for this to be his Xiang, from all those years ago. Dead Xiang. And yet there was something about her that seemed familiar.

“You do. You do know me. You left me in the snow, to die.” Her face was impassive. “Now do you know me?”

It couldn’t be. “No. That’s impossible. You’re dead.” But, she was here, now, before him. All these years of nightmares, and she’s not dead? How? His heart pounded hard enough to rock his chest. “You weren’t buried?”

“I was. I was rescued. I’m not dead. I am Xiang!” She glared. “I am stronger, older, wiser. And your match.” Her voice rose in pitch. “I am alive, and I hate you enough to wait a thousand years to rip out your guts and use them for lamp decorations!” Spit flew.

Well. That was a curious way to kill someone.

Explaining would mean nothing to her, yet he couldn’t stop. He needed to say this.

“I couldn’t return. I thought you’d died, and there was no time. The border guards pursued us. We were friends. Good friends. Why…” He spread his hands.

“You killed that friend. Dead!”

He let the silence mature. Saying more might set her off. Clearly she was unstable. And Sofia was in her grasp.

When the flush faded from Xiang’s face, he spoke quietly. “Then it’s me you want. I offer myself. Free Sofia, and I’m yours.”

This time Xiang did move forward, even if only by an inch. “I. Have. You. Already.” She grinned. “I want to see you crawl. I want to show the world what you are truly made of.”

The emperor-bey flapped his hand. “Get on with it, Xiang. I grow tired of this.”

She half turned. “Of course, Your Serenity.” With her naked sword, she pointed at Dankyo. “Choices. Two. The first choice is to fight me and my men. Win and you go free, die and she dies also. The second choice. Leave your woman here. She goes to the emperor-bey, and you go free.”

What? He blinked.

“Yes.” She lowered her sword. “You walk away and go free.” The glitter in her eyes, the little triumph in the quirk of her mouth—she was gloating.

Die or desert Sofia? He remembered the corridor of men behind him, remembered the hate for him that showed in Xiang’s voice, in her manner. She wouldn’t let him go free. She meant to humiliate him, then kill him anyway.

A little movement distracted him. Sofia was signaling. Go. Go. Come back.

She thinks I can return to rescue her. But can I?

After one last desperate look at her pleading eyes, he refused to look again. Logic. He needed that and not raw emotion.

He sat back on his heels and contemplated death. He couldn’t win with the first choice. Maybe not with the second either—for surely Xiang had something tricky in mind.

Tricks had a way of turning and biting you in the rear end, hard. He’d seen the complex battle plans go awry when the simple ones won the day. Whatever she intended, it wasn’t good. The first was suicide. But could he leave Sofia?

Eyes closed, head bowed, he inhaled a long, slow breath, smelled the scent of flowers, heard the buzz and click of insects, the subtle scrape of tumbling leaves, and the tick of distant clockwork.

Win however you can. Be simple. Be bold. Take the world by the throat and make it yours. No compassion for the enemy. None.

He exhaled.

Walk away from my love? The decision drove a spike of pain through his middle.

“Your choice?” Xiang already smiled, just a little.

Forgive me, my lady. “I will go.”

“And leave your lady with us. As I thought. You show your true self. You always choose yourself over your beloved. You are a weak man. A disgusting man.”

He didn’t reply. Sorrow for Xiang, and pity, cloaked his thoughts. Perhaps she intended to stir him to anger. His anger was there, but deep. He’d let it loose when he could use it.

Her mouth screwed up. Her upper lip curled in disdain. “Pah! Weakling. You will watch the ring being applied to her before I let you leave.” Xiang nodded curtly to the soldiers, and they gestured to someone on a lower level. A man in flowing navy robes and black stovepipe trousers walked solemnly up some side steps carrying a silver tray. Instruments glinted in the sunlight.

It dawned on him. To enter the harem, she would need the clitoral ring. Cold prickled along his skin. He clenched his fists until his muscles ached, then made himself look. Sofia was already watching him. Their gazes locked.

Whatever else happened to her, he would not think on it. She needed his strength, and he knelt there, a mere eight yards away, fists on his thighs. He did not release her from his rigid stare until something clicked down there between her legs, and she gasped around the gag, her face taut with pain. Don’t look. Sofia had shut her eyes. There was blood.

He hissed through his teeth.

God in heaven, they would pay for this. Xiang would pay. He’d come back from the dead if he had to, to rescue his Sofia and deliver retribution.

“Now, you may leave.” Xiang pointed over his shoulder.

One second, two… He pushed off, rose quietly to his feet, and turned. The twin lines of men waited there. In their hands were knives, and the lines went on forever. Below, on the next level, the helmeted heads bobbed and gleamed into the distance, perhaps all the way across the garden pathways to the walls.

“You will walk the gauntlet of a million knives.”

He breathed his words. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“No. Because I invented it. Go, or we kill you where you stand. Make it to the wall, and you are free. Strike back, and they kill you where you stand.”

Well, he wouldn’t stand, then. The sob behind him said Sofia had heard and knew. There was no point in arguing. Go. Move. Get this done. Pain is relative. It means nothing.

If only he believed that.

With the first step, he was already thinking and crossing out possibilities. Only one exit might be close enough. Could he reach it alive? The first soldier hefted his knife and tossed it, caught it by the hilt.

Don’t hit back. Do not.

The man struck. The tip of the knife ran down his chest like an ember. He hissed. A stripe of pain blossomed for a second. Knives flashed, and the next hit, and the next, and the next. His clothes shredded, he stepped faster, strode, made them miss sometimes, made them sink the blow too deep on others. Strips of flesh flapped loose. Warm blood meandered and sprayed from the wounds. By the time he reached the waterfall bridge, he was staggering. The men jeered and cried insults, spit as they added another cut to his body.

When he looked down, he saw blood in his footprints, and he wore red. The white was long gone. A whistle and catch in his breathing, where each subsequent breath seemed harder to take, alerted him to the worst wound. He’d not felt the knife go in, penetrate deeper than the rest. His chest had been punctured, all the way to his lungs. Whether filling up with leaking blood or air inside, it made little difference. He’d die soon. His lungs would stop working, and he’d die.

He put his hand to that wound and pressed. Delay death. It wouldn’t take him easily.

I have to come back!

Now the tears began. For a man to cry…it was wrong. But he was failing, and it wasn’t himself who he cried for, it was his beautiful lady who waited for him. He’d wanted to win, to come back…but he was dying.

Two more steps, and he’d reach the bridge. Two more steps.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Twenty yards down to the water. Couldn’t see it past the soldiers, but he heard it, smelled the water, saw the rise of fine spray.

Dankyo staggered sideways, making the next blow miss. They fended him off, laughing. The man he picked was taller but slight. A lunge back the other way, and he hit below the center of gravity, at the same time as he gripped the man’s wrist and lifted him. They smacked into the rail as one, and went over. A twist, and he freed the knife from the man’s hand. Sharp and slippery as a fish darting, he slid it into the soldier’s throat. Blood spurted.

Air whipped past. He took a breath as they fell. The man’s carotid bled nicely.

If he wasn’t dead, his opponent was half-dead when they hit the water. As he entered feetfirst and speared down deep, Dankyo felt, then heard, the bitter snap of his own ribs. The shouts from above shut off. His arms flailed. Blood swirled in the water. The man was gone, somewhere below. Bubbles spun. The roar of the waterfall was distant, and the water lanced at him in fiery licks where it washed along and into his wounds. The piercing one. He placed his hand on it as the surge swept him along, tumbling.

Nothing to do but be taken by the force.

Into a darkened tunnel. Still holding in that air…down, down. Through the tunnel, twisting, torn, cold and fire. Heat and dark. And it spit him out into the vast night-blackened river. The Bosporus. He gasped in a breath. He was beyond the palace walls and still dying, still bleeding. Too weak to swim.

On his last desperate lunge for the surface, he found a corpse. A bloated corpse of dog or sheep, long gone, long dead. It saved him, kept him afloat. The ironclad he drifted past showed its blank steel face to him. He bled some more. Cold sank in, like the claws of a giant yet patient beast. He shivered and clung to the corpse. It stank, but it was warmer than the water. And his chest, plastered against its sloppy, putrid flesh, had stopped sucking in air through the wound. Something to be thankful for.

The bank of the river bobbed closer, closer. Something buzzed near his ear, clawed at him, tugged. He drifted. Hands pulled him, pulled him over the top of something hard that scraped and reawakened wounds to glittering pain.

“God! Damn you!” he roared and raised his head as they dragged him sideways and rolled him onto his back. He tried to fend them off, but they batted aside his hands.

Male voices. He blinked up at them, fighting down a swell of vomit in his throat.

“Hold him!”

“Fuck. He’s dying. He’s damn well dying.”

“We need to stop that bleeding.” A light flashed in his eyes. Whoever spoke, continued, “Look, he’s white as hell. Put your hand there. Clamp on that one. I’ll get the machine and my bag. Maybe we can save him. And cover the rest of him with blankets!”

Feet scuffed. The boat rocked. He was on a boat. On the river still, then. One of the faces resolved. “Henry?” The word seemed so brittle in his throat, like it came out past crumbled stone. “Henry?”

“Yes. It’s me.” Henry peered, then ran a hand over his head. “Sit still and wait for the doc. We’re headed for the Ottoman side. Like you told us to. Evacuating.”

He grunted and dragged in a wheezing breath that never reached bottom. Air, he needed more air.

“You lucked out. Zigzag found you. That darn dog-thing has been pining for you and Miss White, and he was doing this whining just now. Then he jumped out and well, we spotted you.”

The doctor arrived and started fiddling. Cold, so cold. He hazed out, for a long, long time.

* * * *

The world came back, slow-like, until he recognized the white of a ceiling as it swam about up above. There were sheets on him, a comfortable mattress beneath. Safe now. He could relax, let himself ride in the arms of fate. Get better. Wait until he could move like he should, then think on what to do. No. No, that might be too late.

The next time the doctor returned, Dankyo was ready.

“How am I?”

“You’re awake! Good. You’re improving.” The doctor scratched the stubble on his chin. “Two hundred and two stitches. Give you another few bouts with that galvanic healer, and we should have you right in a week and a half. The ribs will take longer. The hole going into your chest is deep. You shall have to be careful for maybe two weeks, or risk your lungs collapsing again.

“But don’t worry. We’ll have you on an airship in a week, and the Ottomans are being good hosts.”

No mention of Sofia. He must know.

“And Sofia White? What has been done?” He waited. The doctor looked aside. “Sir? Has the government vowed to intervene?”

At last the man met his gaze. He shook his head. “No. I was told they’ve threatened some embargoes. Personnel are being withdrawn. No further armaments will be shipped, but…the rumor is we won’t go to war over her return.”

Cold swept him. As he’d thought. Maybe Theodore Kevonis could help? Maybe, if the world would spin faster.

Dankyo struggled up until he rested with his elbows propped behind him. “Then I need to be well sooner. Three days, maybe.”

“Hah!” The doctor grinned, and then his expression faded. “You mean that?”

“Yes. How can I do it?”

“You can’t!”

“How? Or I’ll hobble out of here as I am. A woman needs me. I will not let her die because I was weak!”

The cough came out of nowhere, and he turned, clutching his side while he coughed sharp and shallow, with the lacerations clutching at him like spiders armed with needles. Dankyo wiped his lips. “How? Sir, I am serious.”

“Really? You’re more than weak, you’re half-dead.” The doctor pulled over a chair and sat. “You mean this? But, you’re healing. You will get better, you know?” Elbows on knees, he put his hands to his forehead, scrubbed his fingers into his short gray hair, and thought for a while. Then he raised his head.

“I could do something. It’s a lesser-known thing with the galvanic machine. You can use it at higher voltages. It may heal you faster. But it’s painful as it is, at the lower settings. Higher ones may drive you insane. Higher ones could even kill, and”—he wrinkled up his mouth—“to heal that chest wound and the ribs, I’d need to drive the needles into your chest much deeper than I usually have to.”

“Do it.” He stared. The man needed some pushing.

“It will hurt like hell. And, I’d guess it will still take three, four days to complete. Multiple treatments. You may die. Whatever you plan to do, you’ll need to get permission.”

“Do it. Start now. Every minute is a wasted bit of time. Do it.”

The first time, once the probing wires were wormed into his wounds, the galvanic electricity sizzled as if Neptune had speared him with his trident, injected lightning, then made it do a dance. He screamed inside, and screamed, and screamed. The world tilted and slid off into a blaze of jittering light.

* * * *

A day had passed.

A day. She’d been unable to believe he’d gone. The cries of the guards when he’d fallen at the bridge had told her what had happened. No one bothered to inform her of more than that. Guards delivered her to a small room, a doctor checked the clitoral ring, and they left her with food. Tasteless mash.

Her tears salted the food, dripped in an endless fall—spot, spot, spot—while she stared down, watching them erode the sauce on the plate. A waterfall, like the one he’d fallen into. They’d said he must be dead.

She’d heard nothing.

How dare they. How dare they! Why do people like this exist? Why the fuck… She choked in a breath, sniffed, and watched more tears fall.

When they saw she wasn’t going to eat, they made her bathe, then kneel naked on the tiled floor at the foot of the emperor-bey’s bed, her hands manacled and outstretched above. Exhausted and shivering, she waited in the bedroom for a man who controlled her body, but not her mind. Never that.

Can he be alive? I told him to go. But…not that. How could she have imagined what they did?

She’d thought he’d just walk out. How stupid. Could he be gone forever?

She wavered between wanting to burst into tears and wanting to grab the nearest sharp thing and plunge it into Xiang and the emperor-bey. Except she was useless, trapped here, and useless.

The rampaging, contrary thoughts left her head feeling like an army had marched through it.

She waited ten or twenty minutes before the fresh tramp of boots told her an audience had arrived. Her knees ached and throbbed, but not as much as her clit. Not as much as her head, or her heart.

“Ahh, Miss White. I like you like this—naked and awaiting my presence.” The emperor-bey. She recognized his voice.

God. Her heart sank even lower, and she shut her eyes as his fingers touched her between the shoulders and traced along her spine to the crevice of her buttocks. Then he inhaled sharply and stood.

“She’s unclean. You should have checked. Bring her to me when she is done with this womanly business.”

“I’m sorry, Your Serenity. Of course.”

Boots stomped across the ten yards of floor. The doors shut.

“Come. The women will help you clean.” A robe was laid across her shoulders. Her hands were unchained. Sniffling, clutching the cloth about her body, she sat up. Unclean? Sofia swayed as the room spun a little. She was menstruating? The wetness down there had gone unnoticed. The blood, she’d thought it was from the wound. She had a respite from the emperor-bey’s attentions. Fate was being kind again.

Hah.

As she walked with the guard back to the harem, watching her bare feet take each step like some disconnected mannequin, she made herself think. She made herself clear away the mess, the sadness, the self-torturing maniacal doubts and regrets. Think! If he was alive, and she had to believe that, she had time to do something. But what? What could she do, here, trapped in a harem, alone?

And how could she survive the constant ache that twisted through her chest with each beat of her heart? Was he dead, or alive?

The bathing room the guard delivered her to had only one occupant—Tansu.

Memories engulfed her. It was too much. She hung her head and sank into the water as she was told to, barely wincing at the singe of pain from the clit ring. A smidgeon of blood swirled up and colored the bubbles.

There were sounds of whispering cloth as Tansu went to her knees at the edge of the tub. She tied Sofia’s hair back, then swept a washcloth over her shoulders. “Time will assuage your grief. Give it time.”

She put her hand in her mouth and bit. The pain sent the tears away. “I won’t mourn him, you know.” Though she choked on the thickness in her throat, Sofia forced the words out. “He’s not dead.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then…what will you do? Will you be one of us, here, forever?”

“Goddamn you, no! I will not!” She twisted about and glared. “I will not. Help me, Tansu. Will you?”

The woman sat back on her heels, and her eyes seemed to glimmer. “Yes. I will.” She reached and touched Sofia’s forehead and brushed away a strand of hair. “You are a beautiful woman, Sofia. Wasted here. And yes, go find your lover! Believe him alive! Escape.” Sofia felt Tansu’s fingers drift down her face, then tighten on her chin. “Perhaps the clockwork man has other secrets? Perhaps he can help us?”

The room brightened. Possibilities dawned. “Yes. Oh, yes. The book.” She blinked. A niggling thought bobbed to the surface. Poetry. Rhymes. Words swam into her head. Not certainty, not by any means, but there were combinations waiting at the fringes. “Can you get it for me?”

A smile spread slowly across Tansu’s face. Obviously this idea pleased her. “I can. Yes. I’m sure I can. I have influence. I will tell them you need to study it. We shall escape together.”

Sofia smiled shyly back. Nothing was ever certain. The future was still bleak, but now she knew a truth that had been concealed before. The Clockwork Warrior had more to show her.

If only she knew what had happened to Dankyo. She had a week, maybe, and then the emperor-bey would consummate his desires. A week. Would that be enough?

Chapter Thirty

True to her word, Tansu produced the little blue book before night fell—she sat on Sofia’s bed in the room they shared and handed it over.

“No one thinks anything of it. But I had to say you had ideas about what it might contain. So, we must be careful.” Tansu stared with her brown eyes, unblinking. “Do you truly think this has a secret?”

“A secret? Yes. Though I don’t know what it is.” Sofia clasped the book to her chest and said a silent prayer. “Thank you. This gives me hope.”

“Good.” She leaned in and kissed Sofia’s forehead. “May you find more than hope.”

Saying anything further was impossible just then, so she nodded. Did Tansu have hopes too, ones where she dreamed of them being more than merely friends? It seemed likely.

She couldn’t afford to lose the only ally she had. But she hated deceiving her. Treading the line between friend and lover could be fraught with peril too. Would Tansu betray her if she said no?

For the next two days, she buried herself in the puzzles of the poetry. Answers slowly tumbled forth. Again, there were codes within codes, but the last answer that tied it together and made it correlate with the Clockwork Warrior eluded her. Something great would happen if she found this, she knew it was so. It must be so. She wanted it to be. What if I’m wrong?

Tansu had been attentive and helpful, but stayed distant, giving her space, as anyone who truly cared for her would—respecting her grief. She cares for me, and I’m lying to her, in a way. It seemed cruel, to risk hurting the one person who helped her.

The sorrow at what might have happened to Dankyo welled up now and then, at unexpected times.

A tear rolled down her nose and splotched onto the page of the poetry book. Angrily she brushed it away and blotted the paper with her mauve sleeve. Then she sat there at the small desk, just being sad. Useless. Grieving was all she could accomplish.

A breeze from the slit window two feet away fluttered her hair across her face. The scents of the port city sometimes came to her—lemons and spices, coal dust and smoke, oranges and roasting meats. Outside the world turned. Time passed.

“And I have no answer.” She sniffed. This was so stupid—expecting rescue to come from some ancient puzzle. She pushed aside the book, collapsed onto her folded arms, and breathed in the small dark cave made by her arms. If only she could hide forever.

Something scratched at the window glass. Metal on glass. Afraid, she lifted her head and peeked. Gold light haloed around something spindly that clambered in and rolled onto the desk, sending paper flying.

“Ah!” Sofia slapped her hand over her mouth. Zigzag! She kept her voice low. “Oh my God. How did you get here?” This room was hundreds of feet up a cliff face and on the fourth story of the building.

He rolled over onto his back and wriggled. The purple sparks in his glass eyes spun like a miniature wild storm.

“Oh my God.” Sofia giggled. “You crazy thing.” She laid her palm on his tummy and patted him, the spindles of gold sprang softly under her touch. As always the warmth of the metal dog surprised her. Then she spotted the casket on a collar about his neck. With a bit of jiggling, it unscrewed, and inside the casket was a scroll of paper.

Her hand trembled as she uncurled the paper. Writing—but not Dankyo’s. This was Henry’s precise, close calligraphy. Read it, you ninny. She sucked in a breath and focused on the words.

He is alive…

She put her hand to her chest where a glow seemed to have swooped in and made her giddy.

…but unwell. He says he will come to you in a few days and to be ready.

And on the reverse was written:

Remember your commands.

Sofia grinned and crumpled the note. Then she shot a look at Zigzag where he’d sat beside her inkwell. Would he return? Maybe. It was worth trying. Though… Her grin faded and a little of the sadness washed back in. She also desperately wanted the little creature to stay—it would soothe her heart. But no…

She carefully smoothed the note, licked the nib of her fountain pen, then added some words in the space at the end.

I’ll be waiting. Tell him… She stopped, gripping the pen so hard her fingertip ached. Then she wrote some more, making sure the letters were clear. …I love him.

God.

After putting the note back into the casket and a last pat on Zigzag’s head, she shooed him. “Go. Please? Pretty please?”

Zigzag whined and nudged her, but when she only chewed her fingernail, he turned and set off out the window.

“Good-bye,” she murmured. The scrabbling sounds as he somehow negotiated the wall made her throat seize up.

Should she look? She covered her mouth and thought. No, I can’t. If Zigzag fell, she’d never forgive herself. A scrap of paper from the desktop swirled out the window and into the sky, free.

She smiled. Dankyo is coming with an army. But what commands did he mean? The slave commands? Those were the only ones she knew of. And how many days was a few?

When he came, she should be prepared for a fight, and who better to help than a Clockwork Warrior?

With that to inspire her, the thoughts that had mired, untangled. Disbelieving, she stared down at the book.

Yes, oh yes. That’s it! The answer. But, how can that lead to anything?

“Taste your blood and ashes.” The verse on the plinth tied in to the poetry. The ashes…she knew where and what they were. She’d sorted that verse out already. But this seemed to lead to something utterly different from what they’d all believed in for hundreds of years. Was the emperor-bey’s vision of a clockwork army truly so wrong? This seemed the ultimate in false advertising.

And…am I game to try?

“Are you okay?” Tansu placed her hand on Sofia’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’ve been sitting like this for ages, looking at the same page.”

“Um. Yes. I’m okay.” She turned.

As always Tansu was perfection—her black hair streamed down past her shoulders, her ivory-themed dress was provocative yet elegant. Without her, nothing would have been possible. One advantage of her long years spent in the harem was that Tansu had learned who she could trust, and who would look the other way when some small transgression was involved.

“I need you to take some of my blood and put it into the silver grille where the book sat on the Clockwork Warrior.”

Tansu blinked, then shifted away a little. “What? Why?”

Might as well tell her. She needed this woman, and needed her as a friend. “The clues say to place the blood of the chosen there.”

Her eyes widened. “And you are this chosen?”

“I…” Yes, it does sound mad. “Whoever solves the puzzle is the chosen one.” Sofia tapped the book. “I know that seems crazy, but you are to apply the blood and then wait for some change to happen.”

Tansu frowned. “And then?”

“I think I have to either eat or drink whatever grows.”

“Grows?” Her eyes stilled. She grimaced. “You’re serious?”

Under Sofia’s fingers, the book pages flapped in a sudden breeze. She nodded. “Yes. And yes, it makes me feel ill to imagine what that might be.” Mostly because I don’t know what those ashes are from. Human? Ugh.

“And then…what happens?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Oh. Great. That’s…wonderful.” The twist of Tansu’s mouth said otherwise. “Well, then. How do we take this blood?”

And this too made her feel ill. “I was hoping…without using anything pointy on me?”

“Difficult…but, you have your period?”

She made a face. “Ick. Also, menstrual blood is different. I can’t chance messing this up.”

“Well, then.” Tansu slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but the only other way I know of to get blood is to cut you somewhere.”

“Ugh.”

“I’ll go get something pointy.” She patted Sofia’s hand and smiled wryly.

“Oh boy.” The thought of her skin bleeding… “Take your time.”

She returned all too soon. To keep out of immediate sight of anyone who might enter the room, Sofia sat on the bed and laid her hand, palm upward, on the bedside table. She tensed and looked the other way as Tansu nicked her finger, but then she peeked. She gulped. Her blood was very red and dripped slowly into the thimble held beneath her finger. She sucked air through her teeth. “Owww.”

“That’s enough. It’s done.” Tansu put aside the thimble. She slipped onto the bed and perched herself next to Sofia, then rested her hand on Sofia’s silk-covered thigh. With her fingertip, she did small, slow circles. It was a very intimate gesture. Sofia repressed a shiver. “You’ll never be a warrior. But I like you this way.” This time when she leaned in, she kissed Sofia on the lips. It was a gentle, soft caress, delicately done, yet arousing.

“I’m not—” How to say it politely?

“No?” Tansu smiled wanly. “I thought not. Perhaps not at this time. Will you promise to remember me, though?”

The lashes of Tansu’s eyes barely moved. Her finger had stilled on Sofia’s thigh but stayed where it was. “I will. I will remember you.”

“Thank you.”

Another day passed. Tansu reported nothing had grown beneath the silver grille. The morning after that, her period had slowed to a trickle—a bare smudge on the cloth pads. Surely not enough days had passed?

She hovered nearby after Tansu returned from her morning bathe. Should she tell her?

“What is it?” Tansu looked up from the bracelet she’d slipped on. “Could you do this up for me?”

“Of course.” Keying the tiny tongue of silver into the slot was a welcome distraction. She held her tongue tip between her teeth as she concentrated.

“You’re so cute when you do that.”

Sofia frowned. “Hmm. I’m not sure I want to be called cute.” The plaintive sigh from Tansu made her pause. She lifted her head. Lying was just not her. She couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry, I know you…”

“Shh. I understand. You are Dankyo’s, not mine. I’m not a flower, and this is but an infatuation of mine.” She pulled her hand away. “I will survive.”

The nonchalant angle of Tansu’s eyebrow seemed dismissive, yet tempting. An undercurrent simmered; her eyes were bright. If I touch her, if I run a finger down her arm, I think she’d kiss me.

She stepped back and smiled weakly.

The inclination to tell her about the waning of her period had passed. What would be the use? But please, another day, two…

When Tansu left to go to the Clockwork Warrior, for the first time in years, Sofia wanted to pray. Had to, whether she believed or not. With a thump, she went to her knees on the rug beside the gold-and-white divan. The blue pattern of the rug blurred.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Yes? Come in,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard.

One of the younger women of the harem entered in a swirl and swish of green silk, then stood before Sofia and bowed her head. “Excuse me. The harem mistress has called you to her.”

“Thank you.” Why? Only the one possibility leaped at her. They’d been counting the days too.

When the door shut with a muted thud, she stared at her fingers. They were white and blotchy red where she’d laced them together. They hurt.

In a small room bare of anything except a padded table and a chair, the harem mistress examined her, then brusquely declared her ready for the emperor-bey in one day.

This can’t be. Why is everything going wrong? Even if Dankyo comes, it may not be soon enough. The honeyed timber shutter of her room door was before her. She remembered nothing of the walk back.

She entered, went to the desk, sat, and dragged the book over. Maybe she’d missed something? Methodically she ran through the verses again. One by one, her fingernail scored a line down each page. What have I missed?

Why should this hold the answer? It was just some crazy poetic monument to some long-gone warrior in a battle. She was nothing but a university researcher lost in a cesspit of intrigue and hatred, and she really had no idea what she was doing. She perched her elbow on the leather blotter and softly hit her forehead with her palm, over and over.

Concentrating was impossible. Her thoughts were a stew of other clues and possibilities.

Last night Tansu had seemed unsettled, then at breakfast her hands had trembled, and she’d vomited afterward. Was she merely ill? And how had she convinced the guards to let her visit the Clockwork Warrior, and look the other way?

The letters on the page she’d been reading were an unfocused mess of black.

Had Tansu dared to offer herself to a guard—and would they dare to sleep with one of the women of the harem?

She shook her head and murmured, “I hope you didn’t do that.”

It made her wonder what became of a slave if she became pregnant to a guard? Concealing pregnancy, here, would be impossible surely? Especially since Tansu had not been called to the emperor-bey’s bed for months. What would be the penalty for getting pregnant to a guard? Execution?

All this pondering led her to a ridiculous thought. What would it be like to bear Dankyo’s child? To hold a child of theirs, of his, in her arms… Tears filled her eyes. Both a longing and a deep sadness filled her. She lifted her head and stared at the slim window. She might never know.

“Stupid.” She sighed and went back to her reading.

When Tansu returned, Sofia held her breath and waited for the door to click shut. “Anything?”

“No. Nothing. Nothing grows. I’m sorry.”

“I see.” Time had run out. Tomorrow the emperor-bey wanted her. She exhaled, squeezed her eyes shut. Cloth whispered as Tansu walked over and knelt beside the chair.

“What is it, my Sofia?” Tansu’s warm hand covered hers and stilled her twisting fingers. “Tell me.”

“My period is finished.” She looked at Tansu. Such concern showed in the tiny frown lines and the tension in her mouth. “The emperor-bey will see me tomorrow.”

“Oh.” The flinch aside of Tansu’s gaze was only for a second. She patted Sofia’s hand. “This will not kill you. You must remember it is only sex, and I know you’ve done this before. Life will go on.”

The right words didn’t come. There seemed none. “Yes. I suppose it will.”

“Be strong, Sofia.”

Being strong didn’t seem to be an option. What would Dankyo tell her if he were here? Would he pat her and say, be strong? She didn’t think so. But then Tansu had lived with this for much of her adult life. The prospect of being here forever chilled Sofia to the bone.

But Dankyo is coming. Doubts crammed into her head. This was not exactly the easiest place to assail or infiltrate. What if he fails?

Tansu still patted her hand.

“I don’t know that I can do that. I just…” Sofia’s voice hitched. The patting stopped. “I’ll try. But I just don’t know.”

“Sofia, don’t you suicide!” The fierceness in Tansu’s voice rattled her, as did the terrible frown and the paleness of her face. “I won’t have that. I won’t. Others have done that.”

I didn’t say suicide. “I won’t.” What had happened to those others that suicide had been their best option? “No. I’d rather try to climb the walls, or dive into that waterfall. There’s a chance of survival.”

If anything Tansu went whiter. “No. No. You mustn’t. Please. I’ll think of something else.”

Though she nodded, the idea had been planted. If Dankyo doesn’t arrive, the waterfall. Yes. She leaned over and hugged Tansu, whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just be good. Don’t try to leave me, not like that.”

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

But Tansu simply nodded and breathed into her shoulder. Though her breath warmed Sofia, the trembles alarmed her. What was this? Tansu was always the levelheaded one.

Tansu pulled away. “I have something to tell you.” Her brown eyes fastened onto Sofia.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t say this, because it’s not…good. Not exactly. They say that Dankyo has been captured by the Ottomans. The emperor-bey has bargained for him, and he is being brought here—tomorrow or the next day.”

The world halted and waited, teetering, on the very precipice. He’s really alive. Relief sank in, like the first stone on a path to solid ground. How mad am I? He’s a prisoner, and yet…alive.

“They say that is certain.” She shrugged. “But, I also heard a rumor that perhaps it is a ruse. That he comes to rescue you.”

“Oh. Now that is better.” The room swayed. Sofia breathed again. “But you don’t know for sure which is true?” Please, please, please, let it be the second, but…how does she know all this?

“No. I don’t.” She took Sofia’s hands in hers. “However I believe the second is more likely. Do not give up hope.”

“Of course not. I won’t.” Questions swam round and round in her mind. How could he rescue her if he came as a prisoner? How did Tansu learn all this? How much could a harem slave know about the outside world? Did she have a guard on a leash? How?

The most devastating question of all arrived in her head and jumped up and down screaming for attention. If she knows this, then what is the likelihood that Xiang or the emperor-bey knows?

“How did you find all this out? Could the emperor-bey know this too? Or Xiang?”

“Not all, no. I can’t tell you why. Please, the person who told me risks death.” Tansu stood, flicked her loose mane of jet black hair behind her, and proceeded to wind it into a long tail, then into a bun that she knotted on itself. The way she concentrated on her task meant her eyes didn’t meet Sofia’s.

“I see. Then you mustn’t say.” Still, she wondered. So convenient. But, Tansu is my one ally.

Without looking, while tucking in the last strands of hair, Tansu spoke quietly. “You don’t trust me anymore, do you?”

The voicing of her thoughts left Sofia speechless. She didn’t want to lie. Not anymore. So she said nothing.

“I see.” Tansu walked away into their sitting room.

Oh God. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. Can I trust no one? Be strong—how I need that now. Dankyo is coming, but perhaps as a captive. Tansu…I don’t know what she is up to. And me, I’m the emperor-bey’s next appetizer.

What do I do? Summon a magical demon army?

Later that night, after a meal that Sofia had barely eaten a spoonful of, Tansu latched on to Sofia’s arm, and despite her protests, drew her to the bed, and made her sit. She knelt at Sofia’s feet, then put her hands before her face as if about to pray.

“I’m sorry.” Tansu looked up, worry lines etched on her forehead. “Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Perplexed, she watched as Tansu held out a vial.

“You were right not to trust me. This is yours. This is what grew from beneath the silver grille.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Sofia held it up to the light. The vial held something brown and bubbly. She uncorked it, sniffed. I’m supposed to eat…drink this? Just the thought made her ill.

“Why? Why didn’t you show me this?”

The crease on Tansu’s forehead deepened. “I was worried you might become sick from this. I did.”

She lowered the vial. “That’s all? You ate some, didn’t you? We could have talked.”

“Could we? You would have done it anyway.”

“Yes. I would have.” She searched Tansu’s face, looking for something else, as if there had to be more. Living in the palace had made her suspicious. “You know how important this is.”

“Do I? Do you? This did nothing to me except make me ill. You might kill yourself if you drink it. Then what would Dankyo rescue? Your corpse?” Bitterness oozed from her words, perhaps even anger. “How do you know what you think the book says is true?”

“I know clues, puzzles. I’m right. And look at how the Clockwork Warrior changed without a single thing going wrong, after all these centuries. Whoever did that was a great inventor who knew clockwork back to front.”

“But, Sofia, you are not clockwork, and that”—she pointed at the vial—“is not clockwork either.”

Yet they planned this so well. This must be right.

“Then why did you give this to me?”

“I wanted some…honesty between us. And perhaps, there is some secret to be discovered? But I don’t quite believe that. And I’m regretting it now.”

“Really?” Before she could change her mind, Sofia swigged back the contents. The stuff slid over her tongue and down her throat like a putrid oyster. She grimaced. “Yuk.”

The ghastly look on Tansu’s face made her feel even worse.

“Sofia!”

“Shush.” She waved the vial. “Don’t.”

Tansu sat back on her heels. “Well, then. It’s done. It was hours before it made me feel ill. But if you feel anything, tell me.”

Itchy prickles spread inside her throat and down into her stomach. Cold, so cold. This was like ice crackling across a lake—stilling the run of the water, the ripples, making everything…wait.

“I have to lie down.” The pillow cradled her head. Blood throbbed. Thud thud, thud thud.

“Sofia? Sofia!”

She closed her eyes. Blackness rolled in like fog.

Tansu’s voice came softly through the darkness. “Oh, Sofia. What have you done to yourself?”

She smiled and drifted lower, deeper.

“Forgive me, my dearest one. Forgive me for what I’ve done.”

What did she mean? Forgive her?

Words streamed away into nothingness.

Sounds and waves of light fumbled and danced through her mind, flaring louder, trickling gently as a tiptoeing mouse. The click and purr of little wheels and golden springs, of diamond pinheads and brass gyroscopes, rattled about here and there, assembling themselves into monstrous mechanicals that rose and towered above before they abruptly crumbled back to piles of metal and dust. Then the metal dust gathered again and rose to become strange creations and fell.

Something rested on her, and she put her hand up and found a creature sitting on her chest.

“Zigzag,” she murmured, hearing her words echo. He’d come back. The puttering of his clockwork heart ticked away time, cutting it up into little bite-size pieces, reassuring her. All was well. Tick tick, tock tock.

She floated off again, knowing she was guarded by a friend. Tansu wouldn’t get her now…the traitoress.

The metal creations and the seas of clockwork swelled and receded, again and again. Every time she awakened a little, she listened. Sometimes Zigzag was there and sometimes not. The little devil played games with her, hide and seek, like he loved to.

She’d catch him and tie him down and turn him into springs if he wasn’t very, very careful. Springs and cogwheels. Yes. Springs…and cogwheels.

* * * *

“Sofia. Sofia.”

Someone rocked her, shaking her by the shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw a blurred face. Tansu. “You. What did you do?”

“You must get up and get bathed and dressed. They are taking us to the Garden of Audiences.”

The bleak set-in-concrete look on Tansu’s face made Sofia lick her lips and swallow.

“Why?”

“They are bringing in Dankyo, as a prisoner of the Ottoman.”

The journey through the harem and to the garden went by in a stumbling sea of dizziness. The surroundings shimmered in and out. All her senses seemed jumbled, and she felt pain when she heard sounds, smelled lemons when the sun blinded her. Spots danced across the pathway they walked on. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, things ticked and clicked and spun. The nausea in her stomach surged back and forth.

Dankyo is here. She clung to the notion that he knew what he was doing, that some devious plan had been set in motion.

Zigzag is out there too. I’m sure of it. And…how do I know that? Am I going mad?

By the time they reached the Garden of Audiences, her thoughts were settling. She knelt beside the throne in a line with Tansu and two other women. All of them wore little more than silver flower chains wrapped around their breasts and upper bodies. Their wisp-fine skirts flooded onto the flagstones in a circle about their legs like small lakes of cloth.

“For you.” Grinning, a guard stalked over with gold chains and collars hanging from his hand.

He clicked a collar onto each woman, then hooked the key to a collection on his belt. The keys danced and clinked against each other.

The chains connected the collars. Sofia put her hand to her neck.

“Uh-uh.” The guard crouched and slapped her once on the cheek, stinging her, making her gasp, rocking her head to the side. “Behave.”

She lowered her hand. The pain radiated. He went back to his position as if he’d done nothing more significant than pick some food from his teeth.

I’m a piece of nothing to these men. She’d never felt so trampled on as she did now. I had the world at my feet, and now I’ve been spit out and made into a thing.

Tansu was to her right.

Deceit seemed to exude from the woman, like the trail of a slug. Why did she think Tansu had betrayed her? Odd. Had something had happened while she slept?

Everything hazed.

The locks…the locks were clockwork. She cocked her head and listened to the ratchets on the cogs whirring. Such a pretty sound.

Even her hands and fingers seemed to hold little bloodred clockwork spheres. She saw them tumbling in the tubes inside her body, all red. Spin and they’d go one way…then reverse and spin the other way. Little clocks. She stared at the tendons on the backs of her hands where they rested on her thighs. Where were these weird images coming from?

“Sanjakbey Zagan of the Ottoman!” The cry carried from a man at the head of the steps leading to the lower garden.

At first she could only see their heads as a party of three men walked up the steps. But one of them was Dankyo—collared and bound with his hands before him. His broad chest was naked, but he wore simple dark trousers. His thick, muscled shoulders were etched with shadows and light. Red lines crisscrossed his torso. Only one line showed the brightness of blood. These must be the scars of Xiang’s punishment—almost healed after only a few days.

Sofia shivered. He was here, and a prisoner. Whatever secrets the Clockwork Warrior’s potion might reveal, they were too late. Already Xiang advanced toward him, with four guards flanking her. Their bared sabers seemed to have drunk of the sun for it ran in liquid shimmers up and down the blades.

“You will not escape this time.” Xiang’s threat was as hard and certain as a nail in a coffin. “You will lie before me and beg for your life so that I may laugh. Or maybe I’ll just kick you a lot after I cut off your balls and hamstring you. Either will make me happy.”

The emperor-bey chuckled. “This should be amusing.”

Tears overflowed and wet Sofia’s cheeks. What can I do? I’m fastened here.

Then she saw the set defiance on Dankyo’s face flicker. He’d glanced at her through the gaps between the guards. And his hand shifted. Be ready.

Hope rippled in.

She quivered, fingernails digging into her legs. Her muscles trembled. There would be another command. This was what the message meant. Her gaze locked on him, and she desperately tried to keep him in view. But Xiang blocked her—Xiang and the long sword she’d seen so many times in the clockwork gardens being used to perform the sword katas and kill rats.

To her left, with a swoosh of cut air and a creak of metal, Henry’s simulacrum of the Clockwork Warrior began its own katas, signaling the striking of the hour.

What can I do? Snatch up a gun, and shoot them all?

The emperor-bey had his close-in cadre of four heavily armored men in black and olive-green steel. They clutched spears, and sabers were slung at their backs. Mobile plate armor. She blinked. Clockwork armor, how strange. How new. It shifted to protect where it was needed most.

She shook her head. I’m definitely mad. How can I know that?

Twenty or thirty more guards lined the path leading to the throne, and out on the edges stood the guards armed with gauss rifles. Too far to go to somehow get a gun, even if a gun was the answer. Even if she could get loose. The cold, sticky fingers of despair clutched at her and squeezed her heart.

No one could shoot all the guards, or not before they killed you deader than dead with a hundred bullets in you.

She tried again to catch a glimpse of Dankyo, but he was hidden. She raised herself up a little from her kneeling position. Eyes narrowed, their guard slid an inch of his blade from the scabbard and growled at her. She froze, her throat tightening, then sank back down.

I’m such a chicken. Could I shoot anyone? She’d seen people writhe in agony, heard their last gasps as they died, and she was so afraid her hands shook. I wanted to be rescued! But not like this. Not if he dies.

She scanned the skies, frantically hoping for an army to descend. There must be someone. He wouldn’t come here without some plan. Surely he wouldn’t have?

Have faith. Stop doubting him. Calm down. She took a deep breath.

At least she could see straight again. Though when she shut her eyes, or blinked slowly, at the periphery of her mind, things spun in silvery and golden circles, like a flock of pirouetting diamante. Madness and some prickly clawed terror seemed to wait there. So she kept her eyes open, and she prayed.

Smoke puffed up beyond Xiang, from somewhere near Dankyo, mushrooming rapidly and expanding sideways. A shout rang out, and Xiang broke into a run, along with the guards beside her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

As the smoke spread, Dankyo ripped away the last strand of the rope on his hands and sprinted to his right. His escorts would have dived to the ground after setting off the smoke bombs. A few gauss bullets cracked and whizzed past in spinning blue spirals, splitting the thick smoke.

“Stop shooting!” Xiang’s command—spoken from his left and front about ten yards away and closing. “Approach and capture them! They cannot have weapons. Not unless you give them to them.”

So true. Smuggling in the smoke bombs in the shoe heels had been difficult enough. If he stopped to fight, with this many guards on all sides, he’d lose. Run and run fast.

The creak of the huge clockwork automaton warned him a second before he struck the cage and bounced off the bars.

He hissed as pain sprang up in some resplit wounds. Couldn’t be helped. He swiftly climbed the bars and flipped over the top and dropped into a crouch on the other side. The kata was still being performed. Sound warned him of the next sword strike. Duck. The automaton’s sword swooped, and he rolled beneath, then sprinted to the base of the warrior. His eyes watered, and his throat stung. The grassy ground slipped under his bare foot, and he slid to a halt on one knee.

The metal collar dissembled in one jerk of his fist and ripped loose. With a firm shake, the metal links realigned, and the key clattered into shape.

He coughed, bent back his neck, and squinted. The smoke thinned above. He slapped his hand on the clockwork man’s thigh, figured out the holds and how he could ascend, then went. Step. Step. Haul himself up. A three-second climb. He anchored a hand on the head spikes, his feet in a niche at the waist.

“There!” Xiang cried. “Now two of you may shoot. But the legs. I want him alive!”

The first bullet thrummed past; another went spang on the metal and ricocheted off. No more came. Her command had been stupidly nonspecific. The guards were probably confused as to who should shoot at him.

He focused. Do the job. He’d calculated this position, behind the neck. Most couldn’t see him well. Where was it? His scrambling fingers found the cavity at the nape. Ah!

Plunge the key into the cavity and twist. The clockwork sounds warbled into a whine and reached subsonic. Pain spiked into his ears. One last thing. He shook out his arm to draw attention and made the command—hoping like hell no one else knew the signs he’d taught her. Then he muttered a prayer, let go, and dropped into the smoke. On the way down a bullet thwacked the side of his thigh—a glancing hit.

My lucky lucky day. But, if Sofia hadn’t seen the command, she was going to die. Fuck. He flattened himself to the earth, covered his ears, and prayed again. Above him the world exploded and roared away.

The smoke cleared.

One man was screaming, but it faded to a keening whimper and stopped.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dankyo climbed out of the smoke to the top of the automaton. Sofia’s heart stuttered. The guards raised their rifles. Oh God. The crackle of shots, the fall of his body—these she dreaded.

Two shots snapped out.

No, no, no. Please miss.

She bit her lip hard and tensed every muscle. In a flurry of moves, Dankyo did something to the clockwork man, and the creature shuddered to a halt, his giant sword upraised. Sound screeched out. Then Dankyo gave the hand command. Down. She obeyed instantly. Halfway to the ground, she remembered the chains attached to her collar and grasped them on either side.

“Down!” she spat. The other women gasped at the jerk on their necks and followed her. But even before she’d spoken, Sofia had seen Tansu grab the arm of her neighbor to pull her to the ground. The woman thought fast.

She flung herself to the stone, her elbows scraping, the fine cloth of her skirt billowing about her upper legs, then settling like a mist of rain.

One of the women yelped.

“What?” Their guard turned and spied them. His shoes swiveled on the stone, crunching on the grit. “Up! Get up!”

Her cheek to the cool rock, she watched from the corner of her eyes. He stared back, anger spreading red across his face and neck. His hand wrapped about his sword hilt, and his other arm drew back as if to deliver a blow. Then his shoulders slumped a little, and he lowered his hand. “Look, I don’t want to hit you. Get up!”

A storm roared in and scythed him. Dust and metal and smoke spewed forth, cutting him with a screaming arc of destruction. Droplets of blood sprayed from his torso. Arms flailing as if struck by invisible assailants, he fell, tumbling onto the woman nearest the emperor-bey’s throne. She shrieked, pushed at him, and squirmed from underneath. After one last wheezing exhale, he lay there on his side, limp. His upper body was awash with blood. Links of torn chain mail dangled like shiny spaghetti.

The dust subsided.

“The key!” Tansu dived for his body and searched his belt, her hands fumbling. “Where?”

Key? Sofia put her hand to her neck. For the collars, of course. Ignore the dead man. Afraid to blink, she stared another second or two at the slow leak of blood down his torso and arms, at the gaping of his mouth, and his wide unseeing eyes. Damn.

She gulped.

Beneath her palm, the collar warmed, tinkled. And she closed her eyes, and somehow she could see. The diamante spots dancing at the back of her mind gathered and wriggled through the cracks of the lock, weaving gold-glass diagrams of the clockwork mechanism. Light flared in her mind. She knew this lock.

The cogs turned exactly right and slotted into each other. With a click, her collar unlocked.

She turned to see Tansu, still kneeling but with key and sword in hand, and with her own collar unlocked. Sofia gulped in air, held her breath.

“I’m not your enemy. They are!” Tansu waved the sword toward the throne, then frowned. “I’m sorry I deceived you, but I’m with the Heraklos. I’m still your friend. And allies come. Listen.”

Where was Dankyo? She searched frantically through the clearing smoke.

Above the ringing in her ears from the explosion, Sofia heard distant gunfire. A mile away, past the floating dust, a trio of gyrocopters breasted the wall of the palace compound and swept inward. Salvation. Then like toy fireworks, a burst of electro rockets flared in upward arcs and speared into the gyrocopters. Blinding flares and distant pops accompanied the craft as they fell to earth.

Tansu gasped. “Damn. There must be pockets of resistance.”

“We can’t rely on them.” Sofia pulled herself upright. “And Dankyo needs us.”

So Tansu was some sort of spy? The deception hurt, but it could wait. They were on the same side, right now.

Beyond the nearby mess of the dead soldier and whimpering slave girls, the plateau of the Garden of Audiences lay devastated. Everything above waist height was clipped and torn, dead or gone. The Clockwork Warrior replica had blasted apart and only his legs, lower body, and twisted curls of metal remained. The clockwork birds, the trees, and the soldiers had been shredded. Bodies, bloodied and with their limbs tangled, littered the ground. The columns of the roof were pocked and decorated with fragments but intact. And the throne…the throne lay tilted with the emperor-bey pinned to his royal seat with spears of shrapnel. He was dead—very, very dead.

Over by the destroyed automaton, Dankyo climbed to his feet. She smiled as he broke into a loping run toward her. He snatched up a sword. As he passed a body, the soldier flipped to his feet, and lunged at Dankyo’s side.

No. Sofia gasped and took a stumbling half step.

Casual as a gardener picking up litter, Dankyo pierced the guard with his sword, through and through, the point poking out his back. The man crumpled.

Not everyone had been hit.

Like the slow dawning of a nightmare, Xiang rose before him, her sword describing a neat arc as she flexed, her body stepping as gracefully as a ballerina. She threw a knife that flicked out, a deadly steel minnow, and barely missed Dankyo as he lifted his arm and twisted. A dance began.

Xiang was fast and a superb fighter. But could any woman beat Dankyo in combat? She wanted to believe it impossible, but his chest ran with blood from reopened wounds. Can he win? He was strong and canny, but Xiang had a deadly determination that chilled Sofia. They stalked each other, feinted and withdrew, testing the other’s skill.

Anxiety gnawed at her. She wanted to do something, but she couldn’t fight, and if she interfered, would likely distract him rather than help.

Other men pushed themselves to their feet. The Ottoman and the janissary who’d arrived with Dankyo were alive, if groggy. They too found discarded swords and ran in to help.

“Look.” Tansu grasped her arm, pointed. Some of the guards carrying rifles struggled to rise—five or six each side.

Could they shoot without hitting Xiang? I need to do something!

The creak of leather and sound of boots warned of closer danger. She spun at the same time as Tansu did. Two of the emperor-bey’s personal guards moved forward, spears at the ready. They were fat with armor, big men to begin with, and they lumbered like mini elephants.

Harem women must be beneath their notice, for they trudged past Sofia toward where Dankyo and Xiang sparred. Their boots clunked and crushed rock; their armor bore scars from the flying steel, and on their backs, the haloed saint seemed to mock her.

A familiar tingling teased her skin. For a moment, their armor brightened and miniscule clockwork parts appeared. The cogwheels revolved; their teeth hummed and clicked. Hypnotism had nothing on this. She shuddered.

What a time to daydream. She must have concussion, or was the potion doing…something? Could this be the mark of the Clockwork Warrior? Inside her, something monstrous seemed to stir.

“Yaaa!” Tansu lunged and struck at the legs of the rearmost guard with her sword. Metal clanged, and he toppled—not wounded—he’d tripped, and he scrambled, like a disturbed tortoise, to turn onto his back and face her.

He growled and swept his spear in an aggressive arc. As she jumped back, Tansu’s foot turned on some rubble, and she too tripped, then sprawled flat on her back. The other guard stomped in. He raised his spear—only a quick thrust away from plunging the gleaming weapon into the woman.

“No!” Tansu dug in her heels and flung up her sword arm as if to deflect his strike. His spear arm drew back. The force of this thrust would drive past Tansu’s sword and into her chest, no matter how hard she tried to parry.

Courage. As Sofia moved to throw herself at the soldier, the answer came to her. The next step was simple. She shut her eyes.

And she met the monster that lurked there, faced it, and offered herself to the strange glimmering power that awaited her in the dark crevices of her thoughts. Upon which, it took flight and ran amok, ticking and sizzling through her veins and her arteries, her muscles and her bones, before it returned, satiated, to the hidden places of her mind. And all in the blink of an eye.

Then she knew. This is my territory. This is where I stand, in the world of the clock.

For I am the Clockwork Warrior.

When she opened her eyes, the men’s armor glowed, and the gold-glass diagrams of their inner mechanisms stood out like beacons. As the guard thrust his spear into Tansu, Sofia raised her hand. The very tip pierced Tansu just below her left breast, and began its slide through skin, through…

No!

She grasped that sliver of a second, wrapped it up, and held it, quivering.

It was a slippery little thing that wriggled to get free.

Thus, as her first true act as the Clockwork Warrior, Sofia stopped time—the one terrible deed that would kill her if she held it too long.

The groans and shrieks of captured time echoed in her head. Mouth open in a silent scream, her clawed fingers at her temples, she did the one thing she could. She gestured violently, her fingers splayed, and released her power into the workings of the guard’s armor. It imploded, hurling wheels and springs and tiny rivets far into his flesh and driving him backward. The spear was wrenched from his hand, and from Tansu. He toppled over, silent, dead, his armor falling from him like the scales of a killed fish. The spear clattered on the stone.

The other guard froze, eyes wide, halfway up from his crouch. She gestured again. With a loud series of whirrs, his armor popped and peeled from him as his clockwork went haywire.

His spear forgotten, he flung up his hand and patted down his front in disbelief. “Damn!”

As if she hadn’t been a moment from death, Tansu leaped, sword poised to strike. Training kicked in, and the guard went to defend himself, but her sword slipped past the spear’s shaft and sank deep into his gut. Where he clutched the wound, blood welled around his fingers.

So merciless. Triumph and raw illness at her actions wrestled for prominence inside her. She swallowed down the acid of vomit and blinked. Dankyo needed her.

“Come! Your man’s in trouble.” Black hair flying like the mane of a demon, blood trickling down her bare breast, Tansu charged off. She jumped a body and continued.

The dead are dead. Even if I helped make them that way.

Sofia chased after her. Something wet and thick trailed down her cheek. As she ran, she swiped at it. Blood marked her hand.

I’m crying blood.

Why or how could wait until later. A battle raged somewhere below, in the rest of the gardens. Shouts, screams, and gunshots carried from there, as if from another world. Smoke sifted upward from small fires. Only five or six guards with rifles remained to aid Xiang. Some looked ready to fire if and when they could get a good shot. One of Dankyo’s escorts, the Ottoman, was down and still, arms flopped out like a discarded doll. The second, the janissary, leaped over a bench and sliced at a guard, felling him.

Xiang and Dankyo still played their deadly game, their swords lashing out, sliding, tapping, and whirling in a steel ballet. Only Xiang’s weapon was a lick of flashing steel, custom-made, and fought with on a thousand occasions. Dankyo’s was a borrowed blade, and he bled, and surely he would tire faster.

As he stepped back, a single gauss bullet zinged in, leaving the customary blue arrowed path of a magnetized gauss round. It zipped past his head and kept going.

She shut her eyes for a fraction of a second and slowed her steps.

Killing the other had been instinctive. Killing more… Reality sank home.

If anyone has to die, let it be my enemies, not my friends or my lover.

She broke into a fast lope, heading down the middle of the audience area’s path, and she unfurled her new senses and found them—the clockworks. Every rifle had a trigger mechanism. Every man up there clutched their guns to chest or to cheek if they aimed. Beyond them, she found another thing of clockwork and dismissed it, though it came in fast. Zigzag? These men, these guns, were her targets.

As she ran, she breathed in deep and slow, and she lifted her arms from her sides. She uncurled her fingers and unleashed the power. It rolled from her fingertips and sought out the intermeshing metal parts—the brass, the gold, and the steel. From near to far, she mangled them with purpose. She felt when the little wheels spun and crumpled, when the high-powered gauss rifles exploded gold and fizzing blue over their owners. The effect cascaded down the line of men, eating them up in fire, and they died.

Better them than us. She gulped down the sickness rising from her stomach. But the tears on her face trailed thickly down her cheeks. More blood? If it was, she deserved it as penance. Death was never pretty and never good.

“Holy!” Tansu faltered and looked back at Sofia, stared. “Was that you? There’s blood on your—”

Explanations might kill. Sofia sprinted.

With her blade weaving in delicate counterpoint to the rhythm of her feet, Xiang fought on, oblivious to Sofia’s approach. She seemed fresh and strong despite a cut on one bicep, while Dankyo was painted in red and sweat. His glance over her shoulder spurred a quick feint and slash from Xiang; their blades scraped and clanged, and he barely recovered and fell back a pace.

Bulletproof, he’d always seemed so. But he wasn’t. Fear gripped her heart, glided like ice water through her veins. Do something! She’d found him, and this time she wasn’t giving him up.

If there was clockwork, she could aid him, but even this close, four yards back, she still sensed nothing on Xiang of use. Nothing clockwork at all. Then, fast and fluid, as if she performed magic, Xiang flew back three steps and lunged, the point of her blade reaching for Sofia’s neck.

Her hand out instinctively as if to halt the steel, Sofia watched death spear in—so sure was the aim she imagined the fine steel sliding in through her throat. Inevitable. She would die.

Tansu dived between, and the blade carved her arm. Blood spurted. Sliding, knees collapsing, Sofia hit the ground. With her blade turned, Xiang’s face twisted in fury. She whirled and parried Dankyo’s strike, then lashed out and slid the tip down his thigh. He recovered and moved back. The fluid shift of his muscles was no longer perfect, and blood showed where the cloth of his pants had been slit.

Bent backward over her folded legs, Sofia panted. Oh God. I did that. I almost ruined it. I almost got him killed. Get up! Could she find an undamaged rifle?

Tansu keened, clutching her bloody wrist, rocking on her knees as if to lessen the pain.

Scrambling to get clear, desperate, Sofia’s knee hit the underside of her other knee, and she fell in a tangle of limbs.

The look in Dankyo’s eyes and his rapid advance said he knew he had to take Xiang down fast. Their swords clashed, light flicking off the blades. Maybe, maybe, he could do this? His fierce determination said yes, the leak of blood on chest and leg said no. She was wearing him down.

Sofia clawed her fingers into the ground, wincing as the steel flashed past his face. Another dance move, another flirt with death.

What could she do?

The mysterious clockwork thing barreled in—it was Zigzag. He’d lost control, and he skidded past on his back.

What in hell…

Her mind latched on to possibilities.

Zigzag was clockwork. She could transform him, wrench him into a ravenous beast with sharp inescapable teeth, let him tear her throat out. Yet…Zigzag? Nausea swamped her. She chose, began the transformation. Golden spines went snick snack into place, rearranging millisecond by millisecond.

Liquid as a snake, Xiang twisted and struck, and flicked Dankyo’s blade airward. The deflection left him wide open for a thrust to his chest.

As he skidded, Zigzag changed, his limbs lengthened, and the clockie spines slid and flipped.

For Sofia, breathing became optional. No! You bitch, no!

With a push and shove from Sofia’s mind, Zigzag tumbled through the air and smacked into Xiang’s legs, whipping tight about her knees. Thrust off-balance, she crashed to the stone; her shoulder and the side of her body bounced, and her sword spun from her hand and skittered away.

Got her!

The world slowed. Frenetic zoomed down to normal. Panting, chest heaving, feeling like she’d run a race up a mountain, then been thrown from the top, Sofia propped herself up on her elbow. Fear and a strange weakness made her tremble and want to curl up and sleep for a thousand years.

Red clogged her eyes. Her heart did a weak skippitty-skip. Slowly she slumped back to the ground.

DANKYO SHIFTED HIS grip on the sword’s hilt. Instincts took over. In a movement born of a thousand duels, his fingers assumed the best position on the leather. He limped in closer to Xiang, sword poised, like she was some sort of crazed beast that might still bite.

Which she was, she was.

At the periphery of his vision he saw Sofia, knew from the blood that she was badly injured, yet he could do nothing. It hurt so much. The need to go to her hung there, like a gathering storm.

But Xiang was dangerous.

And he was right. Despite Zigzag binding her knees together, Xiang brought up a knife and whipped it back.

Kill her. Lunge forward, kill.

Regret paralyzed him. He never hesitated. Death was his instrument. But long ago, she’d been his friend, almost lover.

Xiang grinned at him and went to throw. Zigzag bit her on the ass, and with a loud zimm, a gauss round blasted into her back.

The blow tossed Xiang forward onto her face. Electric blue spit and sizzled on the wound. The knife slipped from her fingers to the ground. The black shirt grew darker around the hole below her neck. She took two ragged breaths, sighed, then slumped into the stillness of death.

Thank God, it’s done.

A strange sort of grief trickled in.

A glance to the right showed the janissary still sprawled on the ground but slowly lowering a gauss rifle. He smiled wryly and waved, before letting his head drop back.

Look to Sofia. No. Check the field. As he strode to her, he scanned the battlefield. Nothing moved that shouldn’t. Nothing moved full stop, except him and the two women and his one ally.

Sofia had her hand raised. The click clack of metal near Xiang made him whip his head about. Only Zigzag. The creature unwrapped himself from her body, shook himself, and bounded over to Sofia.

“I’m sorry,” Sofia whispered as he knelt beside her.

God damn. Blood ran down her face from her eyes…flooded down her face. Her upper body seemed drenched. The stones beneath her were stained with a sticky pool, and the blood dampened the knee of his trousers.

What the fuck could he do?

Military first-aid lessons lined up and told him nothing. Bandage her eyes? He turned, reached, grabbed the neck of a shirt on a guard’s body, ripped it loose.

The bleeding had slowed.

“Sofia?” His voice sounded rough. His hand shook. Fuck. Hold it down. He clamped his feelings in place. Later, later, he’d scream. “Sofia, are you with me? Stay with me, darling.”

“I’m here.” Her words were so quiet he strained to hear them.

At hearing her voice, he almost broke. “Good.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t kill her for you.”

“Shh. What do you mean?” He wiped her face, trying to see why she bled. No wounds. How? His hand shook. “You couldn’t have. Sofia, why are you bleeding? I need to know.”

“Oh.” She blinked, staring at the cloth he held. It was more red than white. “Is that me?”

Tansu knelt at Sofia’s other side and croaked out. “It might be to do with who she is. She’s done…things.” Her wrist had a gore-soaked rag knotted over it. “I think she’s the Clockwork Warrior.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Frowning, he shook his head. He needed sense not stupidity. Hysterical, obviously. Except…Tansu was the Heraklos implant. She wouldn’t be the hysterical type.

“It’s true. I am. Zigzag?” Sofia called. Her words came out slurred as if she were drunk. Zigzag bumped his way under Dankyo’s arm and nudged her. His long silver tongue licked her, then him, then both of them together.

“Look, Sir.” She touched Zigzag’s nose and some of the gold spindles wriggled. “That was me.”

Fresh blood leaked from her eyes. “Shit.” Already what skin he could see seemed dead white. If she bled more…

As if he’d done something startling, Sofia looked at him. “You swore?”

“Don’t do that! It makes you bleed more.” He had zero idea as to what was happening. And that terrified him. Was she dying? No. No. She wasn’t allowed to. But why the hell was she bleeding? The crazy scramble of his thoughts made his heart take a few big thuds. Hold it in. I’ve seen a million people wounded.

He pressed the shirt to her eyes, wiped away more blood, then shakily raised the rag. That lazy open and close of her eyelids, the unfocused stare…her pale lips…

But never her. Never Sofia, the woman I love. He wrenched his thoughts back into practical logical mode. Prioritize. Fucking prioritize.

“Tansu, she needs a doctor. Where can I find one?”

“There’s a Heraklos flag nearby. Head for that. The battle code—”

The numbers flashed into his head. “I have it. You stay with her. Both of you keep still and cuddle up. I’ll get you that working rifle; then I’m going for medical help.” He stood, paused to double-check for live enemies, then sprinted away.

“SOFIA, MY DARLING,” Tansu said softly to her. “You’ll be okay. We’ll wait here. I pray you forgive me. I lied so much.”

“You too?” Her eyelids kept shutting of their own accord, but she forced them open. “S’okay. We all lied a lot. I forgive you.”

“Now shush. I’m supposed to keep you warm and quiet. Dankyo will have my head if I don’t.”

“Mmm.” The stone was hard on the back of her head.

“You’ll be better soon.” Lips pressed lightly on her cheek. “You’ll see.”

When did I lie down? God. Cold, so cold. She shivered. The sky was red. Someone had wrapped their arms about her. She shut her eyes. Her heartbeat followed her down into the dusk with little faltering beats…

When she awoke, the sway and distant purr told her she was in an airship.

“Where am I?” Her voice was miles away.

“In the Princess Kay, Sten’s ship.”

She recognized the voice. Dankyo.

Oh. Her thoughts drifted. “How?”

“Don’t worry yourself. Tansu arranged it. Now sleep. No one knows who…what, you are. You’re just Sofia, and I’m just Dankyo. We’re going home.”

“Mmm.” She smiled. Just me. Just him. Going home. I like that.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The wind coming down off the mountains chilled Sofia, and she clutched her heavy coat to her, turned up the lapels, and tucked her hands up the sleeves. So appropriate. She was up here on the roof of House Kevonis because things were wrong between her and Dankyo. He left her alone so much. Work as Head of Security seemed to fill his day.

Two weeks stuck in bed now, and whenever she tried to convince anyone she was better, the doctor would come and check and say, you’re still anemic, not yet.

The three guards who’d followed her stayed back, but she couldn’t forget they were there. They hadn’t wanted her to come, but as long as she stayed here, in one spot, they’d said they were happy.

She sighed and shivered at the same time. “Brr.”

The roof was kind of nice in a way—with its topiary trees in tubs and alcoves in unexpected places so people could sit on one of the white-painted garden seats and look out over the landscape. Some dots a mile or two away might be a herd of sheep or goats. The sky was a blue bright enough to sink teeth into. The land beyond the house grounds looked like a green paradise with zillions of puffy gray-green trees.

If it wasn’t for the manned gun platforms at the roof’s corners, she’d have appreciated the view more. And if Dankyo had bothered to visit her the last week. Busy, or otherwise engaged, all the messages said.

He’d changed. When she first arrived, sick and weak, he’d been like some nurse come down from heaven, forever checking on her. Then for some reason, he’d turned cold. Like this stupid wind.

Face it. This whole place is making me feel unwelcome, and Dankyo wants me to leave. He’s just not going to say it out loud. Tears crept down her cheek.

“Damn it, girl. You trying to get in trouble?” It was Claire, Theo’s consort and indomitable assassin extraordinaire. She sauntered over and slid her neat ass onto the bench.

As always when she was working, the woman had on leather bootleg pants and jacket, in fawn brown this time, with her hair swept up in a bun. Beneath the jacket, glimpses of a black bustier showed. The sword and large pistol, slung at back and waist respectively, and some knives on her heavy belt, sent Sofia a dark reminder of Xiang. Assassins both of them, and both with a habit of toting enough weaponry to scare away the devil, or at least give him a bad fright.

Sofia shrugged morosely. “How’d you find me?”

“Kirsten blabbed, and the guards too. You’re barely out of your sick bed, and you’re up here, freezing your ass off? Dankyo will be livid.”

“Doubt it.” Go away and let me be miserable in peace.

“Okay.” Claire stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankle. “I catch your meaning. And I agree. I’ll go nudge Theo. This has gone on long enough. But first, you’re going back to bed. We have a deal?”

She was going to do something? “I guess so. Deal.”

“Great.” Claire smiled. “One of the things I loved about this place when I first came here was how much they welcomed me. Think it’s my turn to return the favor. You look like you need a hug. Come here.”

She enfolded Sofia in her arms. The leather jacket creaked. But it was warm and snug, and having Claire do this made her feel like choking.

So nice. To have someone care, even if it wasn’t the someone she most wanted to have hug her. Damn him.

But she hugged Claire back, sniffed to clear away the tears, and whispered, “Thank you.”

The crunch of boots and crisp cries of Sir had her peeking around Claire’s shoulder. Dankyo. He strode over like an ironclad parting the waves—as if nothing would stop him. His fierce glare made her flinch.

She shook Claire. “Psst, I think one of us is in trouble.”

Without looking, Claire replied. “From Dankyo? Pfft. I have his measure. He won’t hurt a fly unless it bites him on the ass or hurts those he holds dear. I’ll leave you, though, to talk. Take care.”

“Mmm.”

For all Claire’s brave talk, she ducked away on a path that detoured around Dankyo. The assassin was as daunted as she was. Amusing in a way. Sofia switched her focus back to Dankyo.

Though frowning back at him seemed appropriate, the idea trailed away to nothing. His black coat flared and revealed a waistcoat and a dark gray shirt with a rumpled begrimed collar. His shoes, normally gleaming, were splashed with mud. Dankyo never wore dirty clothes unless the situation was desperate. It hadn’t rained here. What had happened?

“What—”

“You should not be up here.” Then he swept her off the bench and into his arms, juggled her a minute, and turned back toward the stairway. Every inch of his face looked rigid with anger. Even his eyes looked like stone.

She shrank and didn’t dare to speak. As they descended the winding staircase, his expression softened. “It’s not you, my lady. It’s not you I’m angry at, or not wholly.”

Not…wholly. Thank God for that. Some of the tension ebbed from her. For a moment execution by glaring had seemed a possibility. “Oh? Who, then?”

He shook his head. “Later. You should not have been up there. Sick. Half-dead not long ago, and you’re out getting blown away? I’d not thought you so stupid.”

Stupid? The insult had never ridden well with her. She scowled at him. “I am not stupid!”

“Good. Then behave.”

“Oh!” The pure gall of him. “I haven’t seen you for a week and you waltz in and–”

He’d reached her bedroom and wiggled the knob, then kicked the door open. “I’ve been away.”

Away. The reasoning behind that deflated her. He’d deserted her without saying? Loneliness crept back in. For all his fancy rescuing of her from the wind and cold, he hadn’t cared enough to—

He placed her on the bed, yanked the cover up to her shoulders, then stepped back, stiffly. Only his fists at his sides clenched and relaxed repeatedly. Clearly, he was wrestling with telling her something.

“Dankyo?” Did she want to find out? Dread warred with her need to know.

“I’ll be back.”

Her exhale was long and hard, and frustration seeped out of her every pore. Where was he going? When the door closed, she turned and punched her pillow until she was coughing and dizzy. Damn him.

An hour passed, then another. Nothing happened; no one came.

The winds grew even wilder. The sky had dulled. Now and then the French doors that led out onto the inner grounds of House Kevonis rattled as if someone wanted in. She’d grown used to it and rarely jumped anymore. Being on the third story meant the only scenery easily seen from her bed was the occasional bird or the tufts of gray clouds scudding across the pale steel sky. Even those few birds looked in a hurry to get somewhere warmer. Sofia nudged aside the textbooks on her bed and snuggled farther under the rose-bedecked quilt.

Someone knocked at the white bedroom door.

“Come in!”

The door opened. June poked her nose in, checked the pocket watch pinned to her dress, then peered over her silver-rimmed glasses. Her frown almost disappeared into all the hummocks and wrinkles. “Time for the meeting. I’ll leave you all be, dear, and come back after I’ve had some tea—just in case you want something.” She shuffled about and pulled the door shut as she went.

Sofia rolled her eyes and sang out. “I’m perfectly recovered now. I could be doing sprints up and down that hallway even! What meeting?” Had Dankyo organized something?

For a week after she’d arrived here, June had been like her shadow. Then she’d graduated to the three guards. They seemed worried she’d turn into something weird or dangerous. Perhaps a clockwork thing that would run on a rampage and murder everyone?

“If only,” she muttered, flopping her head back onto her pillow. “Least that would be more interesting.”

She might like puzzles, but reading about them only went so far. She needed him back again—the way he had been. He’d gone from being so attentive he was annoying, bringing her flowers, feeding her soup, and so on, to what he was now, distant, angry. Was it that other problem? Could he not see her living here as his lover and partner?

Please, not that.

At least Claire had been up here in the last week. And she’d brought Zigzag too. Even if he’d been taken away again, she’d gotten to play with him.

Maybe she should throw something like a shoe at Dankyo next time he came in? Or a book. She eyed the smaller textbook. Sadness welled up. She didn’t want to hit him. She wanted to know, why.

Dankyo, what are you up to?

Or was it that they didn’t trust her? Well, she’d lived by herself before. At least now she knew what sort of man she liked. That had to be a good start, hadn’t it?

A magpie flew in and rested on the balcony rail outside. Ruffled by gusts, feathers fluttering, it looked dejected, yet it was free. It cocked an eye at her and exchanged stares through the glass before launching back into the air and flying away.

That would be her in a few days, free yet miserable.

Another knock on the door. The meeting. She may as well clear the air, get her thoughts off her chest, and throw something at Dankyo, if it came to that.

“Come in!” she called out grumpily, then sat up against the headboard.

First through the door was Theo Kevonis.

Oops. The little short white nightie she was wearing, with all the frills and bows and low-scooped bodice, showed a whole lot of cleavage. She tugged the sheet and quilt up to her neck.

Filing in after him came Claire, who shot her a grin and a thumbs-up, then dour Dankyo. His mouth was almost upside down.

Her fingers itched for that book. She sighed. Wait and see what he says first, then throw it. The tower of books next to her thigh toppled over as she shifted.

Last of all, Zigzag came powering in, legs going like locomotive wheels. He slid on the polished timber floor as he switched direction. Then he leaped and piled onto the bed, plowing into the books. His springy tail wagging, he looked up at her.

“I do swear that thing gets more doglike every day, Miss White.” Theo advanced, hand out to shake hers.

Miss White was so formal, and so not her. She hated it. But, there was no way she was going to be nice and tell him to call her Sofia, not now, not today, when she’d been so lonely, and ready to cry if something else bad happened.

Won’t kill me to shake hands.

With his black curls dangling across his forehead and those gray eyes, she could see why Claire had fallen for him. And the compulsion to not look him in the eyes was there again. Whenever she met Theo or Dankyo, it happened. Chicken. But this time, she struggled and stared back. A little smile caught at his lips, as if he’d seen that initial swerve of her gaze.

“Apologies.” He enclosed her hand and squeezed, “Most of this is my fault. But there was a valid reason.”

Apologies? “What do you mean?” But his smile warmed her. Maybe House Kevonis wasn’t a cold snake pit after all?

He dragged over a chair and sat, waved the others to sit also, though Dankyo instead took up position on the opposite side of the bed, hands clasped and waiting, like some sort of wooden toy soldier. No improvement there.

After glancing at him, she turned back to Theo. Claire sat on the arm of his chair and swung her leg. She’d changed. Her boots, leggings, and cute little shirt seemed a cross between assassin bodyguard and little Miss Muffet. And when Theo put his hand around her ass, hugging her hip, she barely raised an eyebrow.

“Claire told me how unhappy you are, as did Dankyo. It’s my fault, Miss White. About a week ago we received the reports on what happened at Byzantium. Dankyo had, of course, told me about your belief that you were the Clockwork Warrior. Because you were so ill and seemed merely an injured woman, I neglected to act on this. The report, however, stunned me.”

This was not sounding good. Feeling like he’d just painted a target on her forehead, she stayed quiet and listened.

He leaned forward. “Sofia, I have never had to ask Dankyo to be more protective. Never had to ask him to be more suspicious of anyone. For once, he was defending someone who could potentially prove terribly dangerous…when all our information said he should instead be doing the opposite. That person was you. You are potentially dangerous.”

Oh. Oh. So I’m a monster? She sat back farther, feeling that hard timber on her spine and her stomach clench up. Nowhere to go. Then Dankyo took her hand and patted it. She saw him mouth the words. It’s okay.

The first reassuring thing he’d done all week. Quietly she tried to free her hand, but he held on. Where was this heading?

“And so. The reports. Here.” Theo tossed a sheaf of paper onto the quilt. “Read them if you wish. I have copies.”

Zigzag bumped her with his nose, and she absentmindedly reached over and patted him with her free hand. “What do they say?”

He angled an eyebrow. “A summary? Very well. Autopsies…much of the evidence revolved around that. They found one man with every piece of the clockwork parts from his armor driven inches into his chest and stomach, and they found seven men who died of inexplicable failure of the mechanisms of their gauss rifles.” He paused, tapped his fingers slowly on the unoccupied armrest. “Which resulted in them being both electrocuted and burnt to death.”

She strived to keep her face calm, her hands still, but her mouth had dried to dust. For days, she’d tried not to remember that she’d killed. It was a mark she’d bear forever. Enemies or not, they’d been people.

“Tansu asserted that you somehow caused all their deaths. So”—he watched her carefully, perhaps to see how she reacted—“I decided, over and above Dankyo’s protests, to keep you under observation and, once you were somewhat recovered, even to try to annoy you or anger you a little.”

Understanding dawned. “So you ordered Dankyo away?” How demonic. How damnably awful. “But you let Claire visit.”

“Yes, he did let me do that.” Claire smiled ruefully, her mouth twisting to one side. “I insisted. The other was cruel enough.”

“Claire. Shh.”

She looked down at Theo and hesitated. “Sorry.”

Sofia looked from one to the other. So much seemed to go on between them that she couldn’t figure out.

“As I was about to say, yes, I sent Dankyo away to do something, and then I deliberately made sure he couldn’t return. And I’m sorry that bothered you.”

That was why he’d been gone? Not because… So he truly wasn’t upset with her. A pang of happiness hit her so sharply she didn’t dare turn around in case she burst into tears.

From Dankyo came a muted throat clearing. Theo gazed over her shoulder. He rubbed his chin hard enough that Sofia could hear the rasp, then leaned against the back of his chair. “Dankyo, I’m also sorry it has strained our friendship, but it needed to be done. And you know why.”

“Yes, sir.” He stopped patting her hand. “Though I’m not sure if Sofia understands.”

That sounded so confusing. But she’d figured it out herself. “Let me guess. You wanted to see if I would turn into a monster?”

“Yes,” Dankyo said. “He did. And he thought I would interfere. He was right.”

He was? She shut her eyes a moment. So good to hear that said.

She wriggled her fingers under Dankyo’s but then found him caressing her palm with his thumb. Mmm. Annoyance vied with bliss. The man knew how to calm her down.

Theo continued. “Yes. You’ve been under surveillance. We still don’t know what has changed about you; the tests in those papers show nothing much. The doctors found no new animalcules in your blood. And most importantly, you’ve not tried to attack anyone or alter clockworks in any aggressive way. Therefore”—he lightly clapped his hand on his thigh—“I’m allowing you to be a part of my household if you so wish. There will still be some monitoring, but you’re free to go most places from now on, providing that suits you.”

They…he wants me to stay? Her cheeks heated. The rush of delight surprised her. But what about Dankyo? She glanced up. The speculative look on his face was far better than his grumpy one.

She nibbled one side of her lip. “Can I…we talk, alone?”

“Excellent idea. Dankyo, we’ll leave you and Sofia to get reacquainted.” The flat-eyed smile Theo gave her might have been taken as malevolent on another man. “Take care, Sofia. He’s not in a good mood. Even if he’s mostly cross with me, I would step quietly if I were you.”

The quiet grunt from Dankyo went unremarked, though with one fingertip wedged over her fingernail, he wiggled one of her fingers.

So, he’s wound up, is he? Well, so was she. Treading quietly wasn’t on her list of things to do.

Theo stood, then guided Claire toward the door with a hand on her back

They were such a great couple. Whereas… She shot a muted glare at Dankyo. Despite his orders, at gut level, what he’d done seemed a betrayal of sorts. Surely he could have said something, before he left?

“Can I have my fingers back? Please.”

He grunted again and released the one he’d played with but hung on to her hand.

She struggled to contain her irritation. Wasn’t love supposed to transcend employer-employee relationships? Zigzag shuffled to his feet.

Theo opened the door. The quilt shifted as Zigzag rearranged himself, but she was busy observing how nice Theo was to Claire. Even if Theo had been a bit of an overbearing ogre with his orders, he was a gentlemanly ogre.

There was a muted thud.

Oh God. Zigzag was growling and wagging his tail, while looking over the edge of the bed. If anyone could ever look like they might explode, Dankyo was it. He hissed in through his teeth.

She looked past Zigzag. Her heaviest textbook was on the floor next to Dankyo’s boot. Served him right.

The door clicked shut.

Time for some questions. She’d always had courage, just needed to dredge for it more than some people. She met Dankyo’s eyes, noting the pain there, much like her own, perhaps, though in his case it might be partly to do with a book landing on his toes.

“Did that hurt?” she asked, striving but failing to keep out the satisfied tone.

“Yes. Move over.” Before she could respond, he’d picked up the sheet and quilt, slipped in beside her and pushed her over. Now she had the big lump looming above her, propped on one elbow. His brown eyes seemed lost for a moment, shifting with uncertainty.

“What are you thinking?” Then more words tumbled out, ones she hadn’t meant to say. “Am I a monster?”

“No. God no. Never.” He reached out to delicately trace the neckline of her bodice. His irises were a strong brown. She’d always loved seeing them up close, like this. Like a traveler arriving home after years away, she felt the surge of their connection again. This was her Dankyo, not the cold fish of the last hour or so. “Sofia, can you forgive me?”

That finger of his, near her breasts… She breathed deep as heat suffused her groin, and almost wriggled but stopped herself. A smile graced his lips, then spread to his eyes, showing in the tiny wrinkles about them. Smug bastard, he knows he’s arousing me.

“Forgive you? No. Not yet.” Oh damn, why’d I say that?

“No?” The universe seemed to stop. Despite the lack of expression on his face, she figured she’d hurt him.

“I… The truth. This all bothered me, this last week. I didn’t understand why. I guess I do now, but not how you could be any part of this. I don’t understand how you couldn’t tell me anything. I mean not even a hint, just before you left on this mission, or whatever. But, still…”

Hesitantly, she reached up to run her hand over his hair, enjoying the way the soft bristles flicked under her palm, and then with her fingers she followed the shape of his face to his jaw.

We’re touching again. That alone made everything settle around her. “Talk to me, please.”

“I did send a message. Theo had it intercepted. But, I thought he might do something like this. I should have come and told you.”

“Oh.” Better. But, for a whole week she’d thought he’d abandoned her.

Dankyo toyed with a ribbon on her bodice.

“I’m not good at this, at saying feelings.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to do as Theodore asked. But it was an order. Choosing between him and you was impossible.”

“Then why did you choose him?” She was asking him the hardest of questions. Her own hurt nudged her into ever deeper waters. She prayed this wouldn’t sink her somewhere she, they, couldn’t recover from. “I mean, I know how close you are to Theo. And expecting you to choose me over him is ridiculous, but…” She shrugged. The bodice moved over her breasts, teasing her nipples, and she saw him notice. “I don’t know what I’m asking.”

“In the end, I didn’t choose him over you.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple working. “I came back here despite orders to the contrary.”

Oh. Mouth open, the depths of what that meant thumped into her like a boulder dropped from a cliff. Dankyo and Theo were as close as two peas in a pod. I have come between them. I’m sure that’s… “That makes me feel awful. I’m sorry.”

“Not pleased?”

She shook her head, stopped. “I’m not happy it’s upset how you and Theo get along, but I am happy you came back for me. Only thing is…” She whispered in a glum tone. “Did you think I was a monster, when you saw those reports?”

The way he paused gave him away.

“Oh.” She stared at the buttons on his shirt. “You did.”

“Yes, for a while. Which is why I asked if you could forgive me. Then I started to feel he was wrong, but I couldn’t prove it.”

Forgive him. She whirled through all the implications of what he’d said and what Theo had told her. Truth is, I am someone odd now. I don’t even know what I am.

She peered up at him while she played with the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble rasp her skin. Either say no, and run away, or yes, and accept reality. “I do forgive you. Thank you for explaining.”

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “You still have to be careful. That book—Zigzag dropped it on my foot.”

She gaped. “No.”

“He had it in his mouth, and he dropped it. That was while you were angry at me, wasn’t it? And I’m sure his teeth were bigger for a while too.”

“I’m…” Zigzag?

From where he now sat at the foot of the bed, the critter panted at her, silver tongue lolling on the quilt. So innocent. But as she looked, she recognized the whisper of a connection they had to each other. And she recalled how her anger had drained from her into him just before the book had fallen.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Dankyo. I won’t…”

“If Theo knew, he’d be unhappy. You need to control whatever this power is. For your own health as much as anything. I’d like you to think about this a while, and then tell me what we should do about it.”

She frowned. What was this? “Because?”

“Because this isn’t something trivial. Because you need to face this and work out a solution.”

“Uh.” So much for it being something she could brush aside and forget. But remembering what she’d done to all those people, merely at the wave of a hand. Cooked, electrocuted people. Dead people. What she’d done…

I don’t want to face this. Don’t want to remember. She trembled the tiniest amount.

If she said yes, he’d leave her be. “Okay, I will. I’ll think on it, like you said.”

“Good.”

The pause that followed said maybe he was wondering at the other thoughts running about in her head. He couldn’t know, though.

Dankyo tilted her head with his hand on her chin. “I’m not going to let you ignore something that almost took your life.” Steel determination shone in those words, and for a few seconds his fingers gripped her so hard it hurt.

This made her feel weirdly scared and yet also happy. To be the focus of this man’s concern when moments ago she was so lost and confused, and out in the cold… Her heart sped up, rocketing along.

Say something. “I’m not going to, Sir, really…” But…monster.

“What is it?” The frown set a little line straight down the middle between his eyes. “You look sad.”

She screwed up her mouth. “I’m still a monster. I have these things, or something, inside me.”

“My lady. Now you are getting me angry. No. Forget this notion, now. Yes, you are different, but not a monster. If I hear that again, I will be experimenting on you in ways you will regret. I have some ideas to do with nipples that you won’t like. Am I understood?”

Nipples? Ulp. For a little time, she didn’t blink. “Okay. Not a monster. Got it.”

“Good. Now, business aside, you do recall I haven’t been able to do anything to you for a whole two weeks.”

“Do?”

She was suddenly aware of where his hand had gone—back to fingering the scooped edge of her bodice. Then he wandered that finger southward, bumping and trailing over the sheer white fabric and ribbons, toward one very erect nipple, where he stopped, a half an inch from the center. Her body responded, heating up, as if he’d pressed some secret button.

“The doctor says you’re well enough today.” He did a circle around her nipple, taunting her for sure. “After two weeks, that makes fourteen times you owe me.”

“Fourteen?” she squeaked.

“Have you turned into a parrot, woman?” He twitched an eyebrow, then pinched her nipple hard enough to make her gasp. “That means I get to make you come fourteen times before we’re even.”

“What?” Did he mean that? Well, she wasn’t giving in that easily. Not when he’d made her feel so dreadful. “In one go? Ha-ha. Besides, I don’t owe—” She went to pull away his hand, but he intercepted her and pinned her hand to the bed. Her other arm was crammed half under his side, squashed under his weight.

“Uh-uh. Naughty. Now, how do I touch that nipple?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe, you don’t?” She wriggled, trying to free herself enough to scoot up the bed. “And…I never said I forgave you this much. We’re still at a lesser phase. No sex.”

“A what? A lesser phase? No sex?” His gaze darkened. His mouth firmed. “Mischievous wench.”

“Am not!” That word coming from Dankyo was so ridiculous. She mimicked a Brit accent. “And wench? Really? Is that from your little book of jolly good come-hither lines?” She smirked. This was getting to be fun.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

“Trying?” She bent her legs up ready to thrash to the side, but he laid his thigh across hers, squashing her legs to the bed with his weight. Maybe she could worm her other hand free?

“Stop! Sofia…” His warning growl might have come from a Rottweiler, and the look in his eyes too. He shifted the elbow he leaned on a few inches higher and flattened his hand on her stray hair. Moving meant pain.

She froze and shrank down into the bed. The barked command and the way he’d shut down his expression to just a flat, mean stare had impressed on her his seriousness.

“No more fighting. You’re still not at full health.” One corner of his mouth curved up. “I’m going to hold you down, and I’m going to make you come however I want to because I want to. If you continue to resist, I will tie you up outside in the hallway like a trussed chicken so everyone passing can hear you squeal. Understood?”

The image of that flashed into her head. Embarrassment vied with arousal. Her pulse thudded in her temples. She licked her lips. Slow as a beast stalking prey it had cornered, he moved his hand and hooked two fingers into the corner of her mouth.

If before she’d thought him attentive, now his eyes locked onto her, as if he wished to see everything—every breath, every shiver, every dark thought. “Do you understand? Nod, Sofia.” His words rumbled through her.

With his fingers there, she could barely move her head, but she nodded as much as she could, rocking his fingers. They slid a little deeper, bumping her tongue, and his thumb curled under her jaw.

A little satisfied sound escaped her throat. Being fastened down so intimately, made the bed seem to enfold her in its embrace, made the world fade out, until there was only him and her and nothing else.

I’m lost. But being lost was good, when he was there to catch her.

“Good girl. This is how I want you.”

Then he bent and licked her nipple through the cloth. The wet softness of his tongue curled over her and made her top stick to her areola. When he leaned over and licked her other nipple, the first cooled. Heat and the cold alternated. With his teeth, he pulled down the neckline, exposing both breasts and accentuating them.

“Beautiful.” Then he started on her again.

Her need to fight had been taken away; her will removed from her. She centered on what he did, writhing a little and groaning at each nip of teeth or lap of tongue, at the delicious possession of her breasts.

The fingers in her mouth were soaked from her saliva, but they were a part of him, and she welcomed them.

When heat ran and pulsed from her breasts and abused nipples to her groin, when her clit ached so much for something to touch it that she arched herself off the bed as if to grind on something, he tucked her hand under the small of her back so her weight held it in place.

“Keep it there.”

She blinked at him while he caressed her chin with his thumb and said quietly, “I thought you might have forgotten over these past weeks who it was that owned you, but you haven’t.”

Owned? The word had a wicked ring to it. So simple, yet the echoes reverberated. His.

Without looking aside, Dankyo slipped his hand beneath her nightgown, over the side of her buttock and hip, and up the curve of her waist to her belly button. He pressed down. The warmth and solid presence of his hand flattened onto her stomach somehow connected to her trapped hand. Eyelids almost shut, she huffed out past the digits stuffed in her mouth—wanting him to move that hand lower, but not wanting to speak.

“Do you like me owning you, Sofia?” As if it were an afterthought, he coasted his palm over her navel, and downward, then halted at the upper limit of her triangle of hair.

Keep going. She wriggled but didn’t say the words. She wanted him to just know. But she also wanted him to do what he wanted to, even if, maybe especially if, it was not what she desired.

I like being used. And that, she realized was where her rape fantasies centered. Being used by a big powerful man, who also loves me. I’m mad, but I don’t care. Not anymore.

He stirred her pubic hair, his fingertip barely three or four inches from her clit.

“Answer me. Do you like the idea of being owned?”

Her strangled mew only made him move that hand even slower. Under her back, her own hand splayed out, and then her fingers curled in the sheet. This was agony—wanting, aching.

“Yes.” Her tongue tangled with his fingers, making her gargle the word. She could tell her difficulties pleased him in some way. And that pleased her. Whatever the reason, she loved it, because he was the one doing it, for no other reason than that.

He nodded.

By the time he reached it, her clit was standing up at attention, waiting for him. Light as the caress of a feather was the touch of his fingertip. Barely disturbing the hood, he treated her clitoris as if it were a castle surrounded by a moat that had to be assailed or wooed before he could climb to the peak. With his finger he did laps around and around her clit.

Touch me, harder! She strained upward but still didn’t say it.

She hadn’t so much as thought about masturbating while they were apart, and the storm arrived quickly—her blood hammered, engorging her clit and her labia. Moisture seeped from her in little gushes, spreading over her lower lips. The tightness coiling up inside was like a stoked furnace ready to explode.

It became too much. “Pleeese,” she squeaked out, squirming, pressing her thighs together, wriggling against his hold.

“You need to come, do you, my lady?” He kissed her belly. “Say it.”

Nasty, evil man. “Yessss.” Her next thrust went nowhere as his leg tightened over the top of hers.

“Then come.”

The stroke of his finger went over the top of her clit and centered there, wobbling the little ripe nub to and fro, while his mouth sucked the peak of her breast up inside. His hot tongue rasped across the nipple.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” She moaned and grunted and thrust her groin up at that finger and her breast at that mouth.

The madness of ecstasy dragged at her. By his sucking and sucking, and the constant pressing on her most intimate part, he coaxed the orgasm up through her body. She tumbled, screaming, into ecstasy. At the finest moment, he shoved his fingers up inside her and fucked her with them. She rocked higher, muscles still jerking, and stayed there until a final shudder overcame her, and she subsided onto the bed, exhausted and conquered.

His soft rumbly words spoken next to her ear brought her back. “There. Was that good?”

“Mmm.” She turned over, sleepy, sated, and molded herself into him. His hard cock prodded her bottom. “Oh.” Her eyes snapped open. “What about you, Sir?”

“I can wait. That was only one.” The smoothing of his hand over her hair lulled her again. “When we do the next thirteen, I’ll get mine.”

Thirteen? She stiffened, then felt the stir of his body as he laughed against her back.

“Not now, my lady.” He kissed her nape. “Now you will sleep in my arms. You’re weak. When you’re strong, I’ll test you.”

That sounded ominous…and ever so thrilling. “Okay. Mmm, good.” Comforted by his strength once more by her side, she let herself slide toward sleep. Something held her back. Thoughts ticked over. Oh. Yes. That.

“Sir,” she whispered.

“Mmm.”

“I want to tell Theo…about making Zigzag drop the book on your foot. If I’m to stay here, I want to be honest. I don’t want you to have to lie to him either. That would make me feel awful.”

The silence stretched a while.

“Thank you. I hoped you would say that.”

He had? “What would you have done, if I didn’t?”

“Convinced you to say it anyway.”

“Oh.” Insufferable man. She yawned. “I should have guessed that.” This time, when she shut her eyes, sleep claimed her.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The unseasonal cold, windy weather had gone. As they walked from the mansion toward the heavy timber picnic table, Sofia found herself feeling so alive.

In the distance, among the outlying buildings of House Kevonis, soldiers and house servants and others walked about. Machinery grumbled from one of the sheds. A crack now and then sounded like someone shooting—but there was a rifle range over that way.

Being outside after all these days in bed was glorious. Her muscles were bouncy. She wanted to bounce. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Her head buzzed with energy.

The grass under her sandals made her want to bend down and feel it. The sky was edible blue, there were birds singing, and the air was so fresh after eau de la June upstairs. The woman used enough perfume to drown a kitten. It had made her nose itchy.

Forget allergies.

If ever she’d had a spring in her step, it was now, today, with her hand in Dankyo’s.

Calm down, there’s serious stuff coming. Career stuff, Dankyo had told her. And she had to tell Mr. Kevonis about Zigzag.

Dankyo squeezed her hand. “You’re smirking, my lady.”

“Smirking? I’m grinning with restraint. This day is so beautiful.”

He grunted. “Well, don’t look too happy. Theo has yet to decide all of what he wants to do. I’m on your side, though, don’t forget that.” He sent her an inquiring glance.

That sounded a little more complicated. Wasn’t the cryptography job sorted out? She’d thought it finalized and just needing a rubber stamp.

“I won’t.” On your side wasn’t quite I love you, but it was close. He’d not said that in a while. Maybe he’d just forgotten.

She almost sighed. I don’t need him saying it every five minutes, do I?

They’d reached the table. Theo sat at the head, and Claire to his left. An assortment of dishes was set on the table before them. Simple fare—sausages and sliced ham, golden bread rolls, sauces, butter, salads, and goblets of wine that reflected blinding glints of sun.

“Afternoon, Dankyo, Sofia.” He gestured at the chairs to his right. “Be seated. You here, Sofia.” He patted the nearest place setting. “I thought we should make this a quiet meal. The chefs are off at the wedding of a friend. It will be just us, and private. I’ve given orders we aren’t to be disturbed.”

Faced with doing it, with speaking, she was nervous. Confronting Theo with her strange abilities seemed terribly unwise. But Claire beamed in an encouraging way, and despite the food weighing down the table, Theo put a goblet of red wine in her hand and made her swallow some first.

“Now.” He leaned back in his chair and waited. “Dankyo has explained somewhat, but I’d like to hear it from you, Sofia.”

Anxiety jumped up and grabbed her by the throat, tight enough to make a big lump appear right in the middle of where she wanted to swallow. Where to start? She plucked at the puffed sleeve of her little yellow dress.

He nodded slightly, then hinted. “Zigzag?”

How much had Dankyo said? She held down a scowl, gripped the stem of her wineglass like it was a life preserver, and dived in.

“Yes…Zigzag. He dropped a book on Dankyo’s foot because I made him do it with these”—she wrinkled her nose—“clockwork powers.” Theo raised a brow. “I didn’t mean to, but I was a bit cross.”

Thus began a little interrogation scene.

“Do you get cross often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you ever wanted to do something bad to other people here?”

Oh God. The truth? “Only little things. I suppose…yes. One of the guards laughed when I tripped up the stairs. I’m sure I thought of something bad happening to him.”

“And did it?”

“No! Of course not. Zigzag, though…it just happened. Afterward I figured it out. I felt how I’d influenced him.”

“Yes?” Theo slowly tapped his fingers on his thighs. He seemed quite unperturbed.

“So. I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure I didn’t get between you and Dankyo.”

“You haven’t. Was that your only reason for telling me?”

“Umm. Yes?” Where was he going?

“You have the ability to kill many people.” Her stomach sank, and she was sure her face showed her distress, but Theo continued. “And yet, you see no other reason here?”

“No.” She pleaded with her eyes. Don’t go there, please.

And that’s when she realized Dankyo had done more than say a little to Theo. The bastard had spilled it all. She just knew. Why was she here? What had they concocted? Even Claire was being demure and giving her no clues at all, hiding behind her wine goblet as she sipped.

“How much did Dankyo tell you? Everything?”

She cast a wary look over her shoulder, but Dankyo only whispered, “Eyes front.”

“Sofia, he told me that he’d asked you to think very hard about what to do about your ability to command clockwork.”

Damn. She gulped down some wine, put the glass back on the table, but held the stem so tight her finger hurt. “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t want to suggest anything?”

“No,” she whispered. “No. I want to forget all that.”

Dankyo massaged her shoulder. “You can’t, my lady. You know that.”

“I agree.” Theo shifted forward. “You don’t have that leeway. I give you a choice. You know that I can arrange for your cryptography job to be done from here, at my estate. I have government clearance through my own duties. That job still stands, but only providing you undertake to learn more about what you can do. I want you to practice small things. Things that do not strain you. I want you to learn what happens when you are angry. You need control of this. That will not happen from ignorance. Once we know this, then you may stop. Only then.”

She held the bridge of her nose, wavering between looking at Theo and her feet. “I can’t. I really can’t. It will bring back to me all those I killed.”

This time Dankyo pulled her back onto his lap. With his hand around her waist, he stroked her hair and cheek. “You have to. Be strong. I know you can be strong.”

That woke her to reality. Here he was treating her like some baby. Dankyo was right, she could be strong. She’d been the pilot of her own life for many years before she met him. It was so easy to use him for a crutch, though.

“If you don’t do this, the only other choice will be for me to reveal to my government what you are. Thus far, we have kept this secret. If I cannot see a future that is safe, you will have to leave here.”

“Which will not happen,” Dankyo murmured. “Because you are going to do this. I will help you test yourself. I won’t let you hurt yourself again. It will be safe.”

She had killed. They were right. Far better to face this than accidentally kill again because of some terrible error.

Sitting in his lap made it easier, though. She soaked up his strength, then took a big breath. “Okay. I will. I’ll do this.” Slowly she wiggled her smaller hand under his large one, curled her fingers. “Thank you.”

He kissed her nape. “No. Thank you.”

And it was settled. Though she hated the idea, it was done. “I’m getting tired of discussing all these weird things. Haven’t you anything normal for me to do, to think about?”

“Normal?” She could almost hear him think. “How is this? My ex-girlfriend is here. Kirsten. She may hate you.”

Ah.” She nodded, screwed up her mouth. “That I can handle. We’ll just duel at dawn.”

The tweak at her hair made her gasp. “She can throw knives, my lady. Claire taught her.”

Across the table, Claire came to life. “What? Kirsten? Uh, yes she can.”

“Really? My goodness.” She gently elbowed Dankyo. “Well, then I’ll just hide behind you.”

“Me? I went to Byzantium to get away from her.”

Though he seemed to try to hold it in, Theo Kevonis laughed silently.

That statement was so stunning, she chuckled too. Dankyo was scared of this Kirsten? This might be fun. “Anyone care to take bets?”

Claire shrugged, then grinned. “I’m not taking bets. Last I saw, your man was running away fast as he could.”

The growl from Dankyo vibrated into her back and made the hairs rise on her arms.

“Claire,” he said. “I think maybe you should run.”

Oh boy.

“Well. How is this?" As if she hadn’t just been threatened subtly by a man twice her weight, Claire cocked her head and seemed to pretend to study the reflection in her glass. “I’ll help Sofia say hello to Kirsten. Seriously”—she looked at Sofia—“Kirsten’s nice, just a bit umm…mad at times. You’ll get on fine.”

“Mad?” Dankyo tut-tutted dismissively. “That is an understatement.”

Who to believe? She leaned in, put her elbow on the table and spoke softly to Claire. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The broad smile from Claire made her feel just that—welcome, very much so.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sofia sat between Dankyo’s legs and looked out over the river. Weeds and logs floated slowly by. The picnic basket with its stock of steaming pies and mulled wine had been unpacked. The gyrocopter was cooling down over in the big clearing to the left. She twisted her mouth. Not her favorite activity—flying in one of those always made her want to kiss the ground and set fire to the gyro when she stepped out. The things were positively unnerving.

“Cold?” Dankyo pulled her in even closer, wrapped his arms across her breasts, and breathed right in her ear, which made her giggle. “I know how to get you warmer.”

“Really, Sir?”

“Yes. And, I like how easily Sir comes to your lips now.”

She closed her eyes as he brushed her hair from her cheek and ran his hand over her. So tender. She’d never have guessed all those weeks ago how gentle this big man could be. Sometimes he was the opposite, but she loved that too, maybe more. Just thinking about him being sadistic made her shiver and her nipples poke out. Delicious.

She relaxed and cuddled in. The thought that had been niggling at her for a while surfaced again. It had to be done. “Are you any good at writing letters, Sir?”

“Of course. I’m always writing them as part of my duties. In time of war, I’ve had some bad ones to write. Why?”

“I want to write to my family and tell them about you, about us and House Kevonis, about my job. My father may not read it, but I want my mother to know. She’d be happy I’ve found a man to settle down with. Could you help me write one, maybe add your own to the package I send? Please?”

“Ah, I see. I’ll do more than that. Your father has always sounded like a man impressed by outward signs of respectability so I’ll send one of the house guards to deliver this letter. Even if he doesn’t reply, he’ll know you’ve caught someone worthwhile.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

The image of that happening made her smile. Ridiculous, yet so Dankyo.

“Okay. I shouldn’t agree to that, but okay. Maybe, one day, my mother will come to visit.” It had been so long, but now, yes, the hope was there.

“Good. There’s something else we haven’t discussed yet, Sofia.”

“Mmm?”

“Theo has agreed to keep your secret.” He ruffled her hair and brought his thighs in and held her with them for a moment. “And luckily for you, Tansu also.”

“That I am the Clockwork Warrior? Why is it being kept a secret, though?”

“What you can do”—he tugged her hair—“any country would pay through the nose to have, or kill for.”

“Hmm. I guess so. Though you’ve seen me at practice. I doubt I could do much without dying myself.”

“Yes, I have. Which is why we’ve ended those. But you’re still lucky Theo is an honorable and good man. He knows having to use this ability fully might kill you. Tansu…she’s something high up in the Heraklos intelligence force, but I would say that woman is in love with you.”

“I know she is, and she’s sweet, but I’m yours forever, Sir. Though you need to get me a better coat next time. House Kevonis gets cold.”

“There’s a million coats I can get you. I tried to borrow Claire’s, though, for today. It has buckles. Ones I could use to tie you into a neat bundle. But she threatened to eviscerate me if I dared touch it. Damn woman.” He reached down and pinched her butt through her tights, and she squealed.

“Stop. Stop!” She tried to pry his hand away. Squirming and giggling at the same time didn’t help. “Dankyo!”

“Stop? Never.” He bit her ear and sucked on it, then inhaled with his nose buried in her hair. “I like hearing that squeak when it hurts you just a bit much.”

She chuckled. “You’re evil.”

“Of course I am. And I have many plans for you. After last night I can see you’re recovered enough for far better things.”

Last night he’d pinned her to the bed and made love to her, hard and rough. She squeezed her thighs together. “Better things?”

“Yes. It’s a little cold today, but next time it’s warm, we’ll come back. I think I’ll rope this ankle of yours, tow you to a tree, and string you up so I can torture you.”

“Ugh. No way. The tree tying—yes. The torture, maybe. Not the ankle towing.” She squirmed around in the circle of his arms and smacked her palm on his chest where his gray frock coat had come unbuttoned.

“No? Not towing? Well then, torture will have to do. For that, I’ll need a knife.”

Magically, he produced a butter knife and wiggled it before her eyes.

“I’m going to see what you think of having a knife tip dragged all over you, around these.” He put the blunt tip to her blouse at the peak of her breast, then traced it round and round her areola before drawing the knife southward, scraping and bumping over the buttons of her caramel-colored blouse. Every so often he slowed the journey of his knife across her body to look in her eyes. She sucked on her lip. He was gauging how much she liked it. She knew him well enough to tell.

As he went past the waistband of her tights to the crotch, she held her breath. The feeling fascinated her. Her voice seemed to have sunk to her toes. “That’s…umm, nice.” She half shut her eyes, wriggled against the knife, and hummed again.

“And then I’ll end, right…here.” He turned the knife and used the handle along her slit, going up and down, denting the cloth into her until she felt moisture following where it rode into her. When he stopped, the knife rested on her clit. Warmth radiated, built. Her pulse centered there, connecting to the knife where it pressed into her.

Just the idea of him using a real knife, a scary sharp one… She shuddered.

“You like that?” With his rough voice speaking right into her ear, and him playing with her, down there, with a knife…God, she was melting into a puddle. “What if I drag the point over your clit and see if I can make you come, while you’re tied to a tree? I won’t cut you.”

She’d closed her eyes. “Lord. You’re asking?” How husky her voice was.

“Yes. I am. I’ve never used a knife on you.”

“But you want to?”

“Yes. I want to make you come with the handle inside you. I want to see you so desperate to come that you push yourself onto it.”

“Let’s say.” She swallowed. “If you don’t do it to me, after telling me all that, I may kill you.”

“Ahh. Killing your Dom is a punishable offence. You need to be spanked before we return.”

She grinned back at him. “Only if you can make me. I dare you, Sir.”

“Do you?” He pushed her off his lap, narrowed his eyes, and spit on his palms. “Then run, little woman. Run. Because when I catch you, you are getting a red ass. Though I think I’ll kiss it first.”

“Spit? Eww. Wipe those first, please.”

One eyebrow twitched. “No.”

Spit? She screwed up her face. He wouldn’t. Would he? Damn, he would.

Now she really needed to run. She went to get up off her knees to sprint and found his hand already on her ankle. Her screams and giggles as he dragged her over the picnic blanket were loud but not so very loud that anyone might come to her rescue. For after all, why would she want to be rescued from her man?

When he fastened her to his lap with an arm of steel over her back and with his leg over her thighs, and yanked down her tights and panties, she stopped struggling. He kissed her ass as he’d threatened to. The first smack went through her like a little quake. The sixth, seventh, and eighth, with his whole hand thwacking onto the lower part of her buttocks, shook her loose from herself, making her give in completely and crumple across him. Her thighs parted and spread, revealing her labia to him. Her wetness. She imagined him looking and instantly got even wetter.

“Red.” He rubbed his palm in circles over her ass where he’d hit her.

“Mmm.”

Carefully, he turned her over so she was looking up at him, then pulled down her clothing at the front so her mound was bare also. Arched back, looking up at him, she wondered, What was he up to?

“Remember what we removed when you came here?”

What… There was only one thing. The clitoral ring? “Yes, I do.”

“I’d like to put my own ring here.” He cupped his hand over her pussy, then dug in a pocket, held up his hand, and showed her a tiny gold ring. “It has our names on it, Dankyo and Sofia, of House Kevonis.”

“Oh.” Her chest ached. This was scary, and a little odd, yet…it meant something to him. And to me. It made her feel like she belonged, here. House Kevonis.

“Well?”

She wanted to please him, and glanced from the ring to his face, and back again. So tiny, so beautiful what he’d had etched on there. Thinking of a clit ring attached to her again terrified her a bit. But, this was Dankyo.

“Yes, Sir,” she said softly. “Yes, please. I would do this for you gladly.”

“I’m honored that you trust me enough to do this.” He smiled down at her then beckoned. “Come here.”

She sat up and hugged him, her arms sliding under his and around his chest. “Thank you, Sir. I mean, I know how hard it is for you to let me stay here.”

“Shh. But it’s not anymore. I want you with me.”

She drew her arm to the front and played with one of the buttons on his coat. Did he really mean that? Questions swirled into her mind.

“What is it?” He kissed the top of her head. “I can tell you’re thinking.”

A sigh escaped, then she answered. “I won’t interfere with how your men see you? I don’t want to mess that up.”

“No. Of course not.”

“They might see you as more…human.”

He laughed, and the bass rumble under her ear felt good.

“I’m sure I can still terrify them.”

“Mmm.” She peeked up at him, warmed and given courage by the emotion she saw in his eyes. “What about all the other things we haven’t spoken of? There are so many things we have to decide on. They’re pieces to our lives, I guess.” She wriggled upright again. “Like children.” She stopped. She’d been going to say more but that was the big one.

From the stillness of his face, perhaps she’d picked the wrong moment. Anxiety peaked. She didn’t know what Dankyo wanted, and then too, maybe her strange ability would stop her having babies.

“Was I wrong to ask?”

“About children?” He took her hand and squeezed it. “No. You weren’t.”

He paused for so long that even though he stroked her back, she began to think she’d been wrong after all.

Then he spoke. “Sofia, I’m not the best at this sort of talk, but I love you, and I acknowledge it.” His ribs expanded as he drew in a long breath. “Seeing you, touching you, knowing you’re mine, fills my heart. I haven’t thought about children, but yes, we should talk.” His grip on her hand squeezed harder with his next words. “And yes, I want to be a father to your children.”

He did? Her chest filled to the brim with elation, and she wondered if she might burst at any moment. Pulling his hand up, she laid her cheek against the back of it and said quietly, “I can’t believe I’ve got you all to myself. I love you too, you know.” She kissed his hand. “Even though you’re grumpy sometimes.”

“Grumpy?” He drew her back to his embrace and tightened his arms. “I’ll even let you call me that, today, without smacking your ass. That’s how much I love you.”

“Sounds good,” she whispered. “It sounds really good. Only promise me tomorrow you’ll punish me.”

That he laughed at her words made her smile into his coat and breathe deep.

“Done. You’ll be in trouble tomorrow. I promise you, I’ll turn your ass very, very pink. But now I have a better idea. I want to kiss you.”

Then he gently turned her head and lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that sent wonderful warm messages of fulfillment and happiness tingling right the way down to her toes. Sofia sighed, grabbed his lapels, and kissed him back. Dankyo was hers, and she was his, and she was going to make damn sure nothing would ever separate them again.

Loose Id Titles by Cari Silverwood

Three Days of Dominance

* * * *

THE STEAMWORK CHRONICLES Series

Iron Dominance

Lust Plague

Steel Dominance

Cari Silverwood

Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be—dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.

And, in this real world, she has a lovely family in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs, a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of what she writes, and a furry menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and swimming about the place.

Main Web site: http://www.carisilverwood.net

Blog: http://somewriteithot2.blogspot.com

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Loose Id Titles by Cari Silverwood

Cari Silverwood

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Loose Id Titles by Cari Silverwood

Cari Silverwood