Stolen Fate (The Mythean Arcana 4)

Her shining brown hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore trousers. And a tight leather jacket. Gods. Times had changed.

He dragged a hand over his mouth as his gaze traced from thighs to hips to breasts, devouring. The fabric clung to curves and muscles, so different from the gowns of the women he’d seen when he’d last been a free man.

An attractive woman used to make him stand up straighter, adjust his cravat. The vanity that he’d possessed before his interminable prison sentence didn’t stir. But the rest of him did. Made him want to kick the guard out the door and get to know her better.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” His eyes raced over her face when she stopped a few feet in front of him. Strong features and a determined gaze. She had an expression that looked like she’d roll over anyone who got in her way.

“Can we have some privacy?” she asked the warden.

The idiot in his pants twitched at that. He shifted so that it wasn’t evident.

“I’ll be just outside the door.” The guard leveled a warning glance at Ian. He left the door cracked behind him.

Her gaze met his. Steely eyes—both in color and hardness—searched his own.

It made him wonder what she saw. Once, he knew she would have seen someone stylish, wealthy, good with words. A man with a silver tongue who knew how to get what he wanted.

He didn’t see that man in the mirror anymore, and he had the feeling that, on the day he finally got out of this damned place, that man wouldn’t return.

No, she’d see a harder man, half animal by now. Shaped by his time in prison like a canyon carved out by a river. The qualities of that man, well, even he wasn’t familiar with them.

“I’m Fiona Blackwood.” Her accent was local like his, and he assumed she’d grown up in Edinburgh, too. Though the prison contained inmates and staff from all over the globe, her Scottish burr was distinct. She didn’t reach out to shake his hand.

It reminded him of what he’d become and that there was no reason to engage in the social pleasantries that were once second nature. “Ian MacKenzie.”

“You’re in here for blowin

g up the west wing of the Scottish Museum of Antiquities,” she said.

He shrugged. “Aye.”

Her jaw clenched. Apparently she didn’t like his blasé attitude about the catastrophic damage he and his partner Logan had caused while trying to rob the museum a hundred years ago. It should have been an ordinary job, but their magic had gotten out of hand.

“That’s it? You doona feel terrible that you destroyed ten thousand years of history? Bronze age swords and jewelry? Viking hoards and medieval art?” she demanded.

“Aye, of course. I wanted to sell them. Blowing them up and getting locked in here wasn’t part of the plan.”

She huffed a disgusted sigh. Didn’t like that, did she?

“What do you know about the enchantments at the museum?” she asked.

Everything. But he didn’t give anyone anything. The habit had started early in his life, back when he hadn’t had anything to give. When he finally had, he couldn’t see the point. It was no way to survive. “And why would I give you that information?”

“I could get you out of here, if you’re interested.”

The muscles in his shoulders tightened. He tried to force them to relax, to hide the thrill her words elicited. He had so damn little power in this place already, he hated to give away any more by showing how much he wanted what she offered.

But it was foolish, wasn’t it? Of course he wanted out of this endless hell.

“Could you, now?” He tried to stifle the raw desire in his voice.

“Aye. If you help me get past the enchantments. You’re the only Mythean who can get through the museum, from what I hear.”

“And how did you hear that?” Only one person knew about that, and Ian had nearly given up hope that Logan would get him out of here.

“A thief that I’ve been looking for tipped me off that there’s something I want verra badly inside that museum.” Her voice shook, betraying the depth of her desire for whatever the museum kept from her. “And he said that you know how to get through the enchantments that protect the vault.”

Logan. Ian focused, straining not to reveal the thrill that ran through him. Was this the day Logan would finally get him out? Whatever the plan, he was in if it meant an escape. “Aye. I can get through the enchantments.”