“Such as?”
“I know your name.” She winked at him. “And I know you do not like to be called Max.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your man is so drunk he would have called you by the most familiar name he uses to address you. Since he called you Maxum and not Max I can assume he has been trained very, very well not to do it…so well he remembers even when in his cups.”
“What else do you know?” he asked, leaning back and relaxing as he let his eyes roam over her again and again.
“Let’s see…you are a mercenary.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked, surprise tightening him up.
“You are well outfitted. You have spent a good amount of coin on your armor and that sword you carry. That blade was not made in any ordinary forge, I’ll bet my life on it.”
She was right. The sword was his brother’s. A god-made weapon and a gift from Weysa. Dethan had gifted him with it when he had told them he was leaving to “seek out his own life.” He hadn’t told them his plans or his ultimate goal. But having a god-made weapon would be crucial when fighting a god. It was a fair bet that no ordinary weapon could inflict injury otherwise.
“But being well outfitted does not a mercenary make,” he pointed out.
“Ah…but here your friends give you away. A mage, an orc, an archer, and a religious man make for a pretty well-rounded group of skills. All quite marketable if someone is looking for a hired hand to help with this little or that problem.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “But you do not make all of your coin by being a sellsword, and I think selling your sword is just a means to an end. You have different goals in mind.”
“Now you can’t possibly know that from sitting across the room,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Her insights were uncanny. A little too uncanny. He was beginning to suspect she was some kind of mage like Dru. A spirit mage could tell a lot about a person if the right powers were used.
“I know that from speaking with you. You are clearly an intelligent man. You don’t throw yourself into revelry with abandon like your men do, you keep yourself separate from their behavior. That tells me a great deal about what kind of man you are.”
“It is an off night. Tomorrow I will get just as drunk as they are.”
“I think not. No sense trying to mislead me,” she said with a smile. “Just because I can see you doesn’t mean you must try to hide.”
“But how do you know I have other goals in mind?”
“As I said, you are an intelligent man. An intelligent man knows he cannot sell his sword forever. Eventually he will get old and his body will not work quite the way it should. What will you do then? An intelligent man would have some other plan, something to take him into his golden years with relative ease.”
Maxum smiled. “I do have other goals, but not for the reasons you surmise. So you see, there are still many mysteries about me to keep you interested.”
“Perhaps,” she said, pausing to take a sip of her ale. “What about me? Can you not divine anything about me?”
Maxum narrowed his eyes on her thoughtfully. “You do not like to wear dresses.”
She burst out in a laugh. “How do you know that? How do you know these are not just my traveling clothes?”
“They are too well-worn to be used just for traveling. You’ve even mended your breeches at the knee, telling me this is likely your only set of clothing. Or perhaps one of two sets.”
“Very good,” she said, seeming impressed. “But that does not mean I don’t like to wear dresses.”
“If I were a woman used to running about in the freedom of breeches and cotton, I would not want to stuff myself into the confines of a dress and corset where certain behaviors would then be expected of me. Like this, you have all the freedom in the world. Why would you want to give that up?”
“Well, it so happens you are right, but I still say it’s a lucky guess.”
“No more or less lucky than your guesses.”
“What else?” she asked.
“Hmm…I’ll bet you’re a scrapper. You avoid fighting where possible, because you are clearly intelligent, but get you in the mix and you’ll hold your own in spite of your size.”
“Oh ho! Now we’re insulting?”
“Not at all. You’re just being sensitive. I was merely stating an observation. It was a compliment actually…that I can see you holding your own in a fight even against a larger opponent.”
“And what makes you think this?”
“You’ve got two daggers on you, one on each thigh. That tells me you’re proficient with them left- and right-handed…a marketable skill if ever there was one. They are short daggers so that means you’re used to fighting up close and personal. You travel alone which means you’re pretty confident you can take care of yourself. You’re too clever to mislead yourself on that count so…that makes you a scrapper.”
“Very good.” She gave him a light round of applause. He nodded his head in gracious acceptance.
“There’s one other thing,” he said.
“And that is?”
“You’re seriously thinking about having sex with me.”
She laughed, a bright short burst of sound. “Am I now? What makes you say that?”
“You got up and came over to me.”
“I could just be looking for a diverting conversation. How does sex come into the picture? If I wanted sex I could choose any of your men.”
“As I said, you came over to me instead of joining my men. That shows you have taste and are discerning. You didn’t want to be alone tonight, so you thought I might provide you with a little companionable distraction.”
“Distraction equals sex?”
He ran his eyes down over her, letting her see his appetite, which had grown considerably in the time they had been talking.
“It does in my book. And you haven’t thrown your drink in my face and stormed off. That’s also telling.”
She smiled, stood up, and crossed over to him. She sat in his lap and wound her arms around his neck. “And does the idea have any appeal to you at all?”
“What do your deductive powers tell you?”
“That it does indeed have merit. A great deal of merit,” she said, shifting her bottom a little on top of a steadily growing erection. He hadn’t planned on getting friendly with anyone tonight, didn’t really engage in it at all these days, his goals consuming his time and energies. But for some reason she appealed to him a great deal and now that he had started thinking about having sex with her, he found he couldn’t stop thinking of it. The idea of running his hands all over that fair, delicate skin—all the while knowing she was just as tough as she was soft—that was more than alluring to him.
His gaze dropped to the pretty bow of her lips; her top lip was sculpted perfectly and her bottom lip plump and inviting. She was close enough that he could smell the cleanness of her. She must have had a bath recently. He could say the same. Every night after he dragged himself out of the dirt the first thing he did was find somewhere to wash the grime off him, to wash away any traces of his curse. It was a small little rebellion. An empty one. But he wanted nothing to remind him of what would come again all too soon.
She saw where his attention had gone and she licked her lips, wetting them invitingly. She opened her mouth to say “Kiss me,” but he was already there. He pulled her forward onto his mouth, but savored the moment just before he really engaged her. It was a tease, a breathless pause before he covered her mouth in earnest. The taste of her spread over him like a balm. He engaged her tongue almost instantly, wanting her flavor. Her mouth was everything plush and decadent, sweet and heady…like strong drink, warming and dizzying. For just those few seconds he no longer felt like a cursed man.
It was a gift she gave without realizing it, and he was humbly grateful for it.
His hand went to the back of her head and he found himself frustrated by the two tight braids her hair was boun
d into. Her hair should be free and flowing, easier to bury his hands into, easier to feel the silkiness of it. And from what he could feel, he knew it would be very smooth and soft indeed.
One kiss ended and another began. Then another. His breath came hard as her hands dove into his hair. He was keeping it long these days, so she got a good handful of his loose curls and didn’t let go.
She finally broke from his mouth, but only long enough to throw her leg over him, straddling his lap and tucking the seat of her bottom tightly to his erection. He was confined by the suddenly tight material of his pants—and the fact they were in a crowded room, but that didn’t keep him from sliding his free hand up over her ribs beneath her vest and then…oh, there it was. The elusive breast.
She wore a simple linen shirt, but he could tell she had bound herself up with a snug wrapping beneath it, in an effort to look less like a woman no doubt. Still he could feel her just the same. He was pleasantly surprised to find she was quite well endowed for such a slight figured woman. He would have thought she’d run more to being built like a boy. But it was perhaps her mode of dress that had misled him. That and the damnable vest that had hid the true wealth of her feminine features.
With breasts like these it wasn’t any wonder.
Her hands grew busy, drifting out of his hair and down his neck. She was running her hands in broad strokes over his chest a moment later and he growled from the fiery sensations the caresses sent through him. Their kisses grew more and more intense the lower her hands traveled, until she caressed his hips, pausing…teasing him. She lifted her mouth from his and said in a throaty, purring voice, “I have a room upstairs. Normally I would camp out in the open, but I decided to splurge tonight. I’m glad I did.”
“I’m glad you did too,” he said, his voice rough with passion and need.
“It’s at the top of the stairs. I’ll meet you there in a minute. I have to…take care of something.” She blushed a little and he realized she needed to relieve herself. He chuckled.
“All right.”
He patted her bottom and she dismounted his lap and headed for the front door of the inn. She shot him a shy little teasing smile and then slipped outside.
Maxum sat back a minute, grinning to himself. His fortunes really seemed to be changing for the better these days. First he had acquired the talisman—no mean feat that—then he had found something sweet to savor for the night. Yes, indeed, things were looking up for him. If the trend continued, he might actually one day succeed in what he was attempting to do.
It wasn’t as though there weren’t a precedent. There had once been other gods, but the current reigning gods had usurped their positions, killing off their competition. If a god could do it, then by the gods, so could he.
Feeling happy and magnanimous he got to his feet and said, “Boys! Next round’s on me!”
He tossed a gold coin to the barmaid who caught it expertly. Her eyes went wide when he said, “Keep the rest for yourself, honey.” It was no wonder. She was doubtless more used to seeing copper and silver than gold. It was possible she had never seen a gold coin in her life.
“Have a good time,” Kyno said. Clearly, despite their revelry, his men had been attentive enough to see what he’d been doing and they had figured out where he was going to be spending his night.
“Sleep fair, Maxum!” Dru said.
“Oy, there’s not much sleeping going to be happening there, what?” Doisy said with a loud belch.
Maxum made his way up to the room at the top of the stairs with a grin on his face. He entered and found the standard for most inns. A bed just big enough to sleep two—although not two of Maxum’s size, that’s to be certain. It would barely suit one with its short mattress that would no doubt leave his feet dangling off at the ankles. Maxum didn’t waste any time stripping off his shirt. He debated whether or not to rid himself of his pants as well, but she hadn’t struck him as too much of the shy sort so he went for it and shucked them off. He was folding them when he fished into his pocket for the talisman. He wanted to make sure it was safely secured.
That was when he realized it was no longer in his pocket. He immediately searched the floor, thinking it had fallen out. Coming up empty he quickly pulled his pants back on and hurried, bare-chested, back out into the inn.
“Oy, that was quick!” Kyno belted out, making the other men laugh uproariously. Maxum ignored them and went to search the seat he had been sitting in…and that’s when it hit him.
“Fuck me!” he cried out as he bolted for the door. He ran into the stable where he’d seen a fine stallion of dappled coloring tied up earlier. Something told him it was hers and sure enough it was missing.
He ran out into the darkness, but there was no hope for it.
The little thief had made off with his hard-earned talisman.
Airianne walked around the bazaar at the west end of Gryna, the city she’d arrived at just before dawn. The first thing she had done was find an inn and gotten herself something to eat to make up for the stew she’d left behind after choosing her mark last night.
She had to admit, it had been one of her more ballsy moves, but she had been desperate. Now she had to sell the talisman in her pocket and get herself some kind of gold. The thing was encrusted with gems so it should fetch a pretty price. If no one could afford to pay the price she wanted, she could easily begin prying gems off it and selling them one by one instead.
When she had chosen her mark she hadn’t known exactly what was in his pocket, only that it was valuable enough that he kept checking for the feel of it every five minutes or so. When she had finally stopped in her headlong gallop away from the inn—after she had been sure he hadn’t been following her—she had paused in the moonlight and looked at the thing she had stolen. But the full brilliance of it had not struck her until that morning when she’d been able to see it in the bright light of day.
She didn’t know what the talisman was for—nor did she care. All she wanted was a good price for it. The jewels worked into it assured her of that much at least. Then she really would get a good room for the night and sleep in a real bed.
Maybe.
She wasn’t prone to spending coin unwisely. She worked too hard for her money. And anyone who said thievery wasn’t hard work was a liar. Sneaking in and out of places, getting the right mark and following them, waiting in the dark, tensed to react to the slightest bit of trouble—it was all very hard work indeed.
Not to mention what could happen if she got caught in the act. The price people paid for being caught as thieves varied from city to city, but you could bet it wasn’t going to be any fun. Some places hanged thieves, some cut off their hands. So far she’d managed to keep from getting caught…well, there had been that one time, but she’d picked the lock to the cage they’d held her in and said her hasty goodbyes.
She began to ask around the marketplace for the name of someone who would move a big piece of jewelry with no questions asked and everyone told her the same thing: a woman named Fro was ready to spend money and didn’t care at all where things came from. So she hastily made her way to Fro’s shop and had the door in sight when someone bumped into her hard.
“Hey! Watch—”
That was all she got out because the man clamped an iron hand around her arm and jerked her in tight to his body. She looked up into a pair of familiar and furious green eyes. She knew those eyes—she had sat across from them the night before and had found them nearly entrancing. If she hadn’t been desperate to steal from him, she might have thought about sleeping with him for real.
Might have.
“Let go of me!” she cried, kicking and squirming for all she was worth.
“Settle down or I’ll shout ‘thief!’ in the middle of this crowd. When the city guard comes I’ll tell them what you stole and once they search you and find my talisman on you…Well, do you know what they do to thieves in this city?”
She paled. Good, Maxum thought. She should be scared.
He was so damn angry right then he could break her arm and not think twice about it. But, contradictorily, he did think twice. Her arm was so slight in his grasp and she was so gods damned small. Small and ballsy. An intriguing combination. And that pissed him off more than anything. She was still getting under his skin, even after she’d duped him and made him look like a fool in front of his men. If he had the time he’d make her pay for that. But as it stood, he didn’t have the time. He had another quest to go on; another line on an artifact that would come in handy in a god fight. This one purportedly made the wearer invisible to his enemy’s eye. Yes, that would be very handy indeed.
“Fine! Fine! Here’s your stupid talisman!” She reached with her free hand to burrow into her shirt between her bound breasts. The action left her shirt gaping as she slapped the talisman against his chest and waited for him to take it. To stop staring at her chest and take it. “Do you want it or not?”
Maxum shook himself and grabbed for the talisman, then he let her go with a shove. She spilled back onto the street, landing hard on her ass. She grunted with anger and picked herself up.
“Listen,” she said quickly as he turned and walked away from her. She kept to his heels, her legs working fast to keep up with his long, powerful stride. “Wherever you’re going, you’ll need me! I…I can cook! And mend. I can work leather. I noticed your tack was looking a little worn last night. You should really get it fixed before you snap a strap and get your neck broken falling to the ground.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said harshly. He continued to walk and she followed him, shoving past the people who crowded the market street in order to do so. He didn’t have to shove; he was big enough and intimidating enough that people gave him a wide berth.
“Look, I wouldn’t have stolen from you if I wasn’t desperate,” she said, panting now. It was a combination of trying to keep up with him and sheer panic rising up inside of her. She had boarded her horse without paying, coin due when she picked him up. She had thought she would be coming back with enough to pay the tab and then some so she hadn’t worried. If she couldn’t pay they wouldn’t let her have Hero back and she needed her horse. Maybe she could get some kind of job and work the debt off, but the debt would only increase with every day the horse remained boarded until the innkeeper would have the right to sell Hero and all her tack and possessions along with it. “That and you made it so obvious you had something worth stealing in your pants pocket. You were practically asking for it.”