Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

My pulse jumped like a snared rabbit, and I paced several steps, trying to shake it off. I pulled the robe tighter around me. “I’m not dressed,” I called.

“I need to talk to you.”

I quickly combed my wet hair with my fingers. “Come in.”

He opened the door hesitantly. He had properly bathed and changed this time, shaved all the stray stubble, and a crisp white shirt accentuated his burnished skin, bronzed by days in the sun. His blond hair was trimmed and combed back. He paused, looking at me, but said nothing. Unwelcome emotion surged through me, as if a bit of that world we had left behind had somehow slipped through the door with him.

He took a few steps forward, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m sorry, Kazi,” he finally whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He was only making things worse. “You owed me nothing. I know that now. I was a means to an end. Get me here with as little fuss as possible, and maybe get something out of it along the way.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Then how was it, Jase? There were miles. Miles that you could have come clean and told me where we were really going. All those times—”

“What about you? You had my ring all that time and didn’t tell me? How did you get it?”

“You’re welcome, Jase Ballenger. I wasn’t expecting a thank-you!”

“Kazi—” He shook his head and stepped impossibly closer, his hand lifting, gently stroking the wet strands of hair from my cheek, then cupping it, everything about his touch familiar but new, and my skin was instantly on fire, wishing for more. His eyes searched my face and slowly he leaned in, his lips bare inches from mine. Heat swirled through me like a summer windstorm.

You are too close now, Kazi. Don’t cross this line again.

But I wanted to, more than I had wanted to the first time, because now I knew what was on the other side of that line. I knew a side of Jase that I hadn’t before, a side hidden beneath everything else, the tenderness that lay there. I knew what his lips tasted like on mine. I knew how he made me feel, and I wanted to feel it all again.

But my head spun with other thoughts too. Know what is at stake.

Just before his lips met mine, I turned my head. “What do you want this time, Jase?”

He stiffened at my clipped words, and his hand returned to his side. “Dinner is in two hours. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I’ll come back to get you once you’re dressed.”

He turned to leave, but when he reached the door I stopped him. “Your ring was in the hunter’s vest.”

He faced me again, waiting for the rest of my explanation. “I’d seen him up in the driver’s seat patting his pocket every few minutes. That’s a sure sign of a treasure within. When I leaned in to the get the keys, I grabbed that too.”

“I didn’t see you take it.”

You weren’t meant to, I thought, but my reply was only a shrug.

“And you didn’t give it to me because?”

“I did give it to you, Jase. I gave it to you when it mattered.”

* * *

The opulence wasn’t overt. There were no gilded moldings, no gleaming marble floors, no ornate crystal chandeliers or servants dressed in impressive uniforms as I had seen in palaces in Reux Lau and Dalbreck. Simplicity seemed to rule here, but the expansive stone walls, wooden floors, and massive iron chandeliers exuded a wealth of their own, something sure and confident and ageless.

Instead of Jase, it was his sister who had come to get me and take me to dinner. “Jase is busy,” she explained. She introduced herself as Priya, the oldest sibling. She wore a sleeveless dress, and her upper arm was tattooed with the wing of an eagle. Unlike earlier today at the entombment when none of the family wore weapons, I noted that she now wore a low-slung belt with a dagger at her side. Was this the usual attire for dinner or a message to me?

“Did something come up for him?” I asked.

“That is for Jase to tell you, not me.”

Her curt reply made it obvious she was not happy with my presence nor with being saddled with this chore. We walked silently until she stopped abruptly midway down the hall and faced me. She was taller than me, and her expression was undeniably hostile. I anticipated something unpleasant, and I hoped she would not draw her dagger because I

really did not want to hurt her. It could cause all kinds of complications.

“Do you care for my brother?” she asked, a crease deepening between her brows, and it dawned on me what her iciness was all about. Protectiveness ran hot in the Ballenger blood.