Page 17 of Lured By the Dus
“To punish me.”
“No, to protect you,” he corrected, moving into my personal space.
My eyes went wide. “Protect me from what?”
“You and I spoke a sacred vow together, a life bond, and that allows me to protect you with my magic. While you’re in the palace working for me, my magic will protect you. I’m not sure how much, but there it is. I wouldn’t leave my thief completely vulnerable.”
“And I suppose you want me to say thank you.”
“I don’t need your gratitude.” His lips twitched as he slipped his hands around my waist, his fingers grazing my hips. “Now, I’m going to take your measurements so I can make you an outfit. You’ll need to lose a bit of your skirt.”
He gave me a dark grin and started gathering my dress in his fingers, pulling it up.
My mouth went dry, and I both wanted him to continue and didn’t.
“Wait.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and he stopped immediately. “What are you going to do?”
“I thought I was clear. Take your measurements for the outfit. You do know how to sew, don’t you? I’ll need help with the stitching.”
“I can wear my cloak. It should be sufficient,” I protested.
The idea of him getting me out of my dress and down to my small clothes made me shiver. I didn’t trust myself to be that unclothed in front of him and still resist his dark charms. And I didn’t want to think about why I was attracted to him at all.
“It will not be,” he disagreed, brushing his fingers down my leg.
Suddenly, Oren paused. I tried to jerk away, but it was already too late. He’d felt the odd shape of the dagger through my skirt, and his mouth hardened into a thin line. Lifting me up, he sat me on the table. “Lean back,” he ordered.
My throat went dry, but I had no recourse except to obey. I leaned back on my elbows while he stood between my legs, holding my gaze as he pulled my dress higher, fingers skimming the bare skin of my knees and then my thighs. Instinctively, I opened my legs wider, shameless as that ache and throb began. He pushed the dress halfway up my thighs, but he was more interested in the dagger. Warm fingers closed around my leg, and suddenly, it was difficult to breathe under the heat of his touch.
“You are full of surprises, Tanith. I dearly hope this wasn’t intended for me.”
I swallowed hard under his scrutiny, my voice weak when I finally spoke. “No, it’s for my protection.”
I expected him to take it away—scold me, punish me, anything other than what he actually did. “Keep it then, wife of mine. But if you try to use it against me, you’ll be very sorry.”
Incredulous, I stared at him. How could he make me feel both weak and strong? My eyes lingered on his mouth until I ripped my gaze away. He was my captor, my husband, with magic I could not explain, but I found it impossible to move. I lay there until he lifted me off the table, allowing my skirts to fall back around my ankles as he measured me. The cat wandered in as he finished. I picked it up and sat down, stroking its fur while it purred, the motion and sound calming my racing heart.
Oren cut, measured with the material wrapped around my body, and then we both began to sewing while the cat roamed. I was glad for something to do with my hands, and the silence between Oren and I was mutual, without tension. In fact, the afternoon held a semblance of normality, which was oddly frightening.
12Tanith
We spent the night in the barn, Oren only leaving to retrieve the evening meal. He was gone for such a short time, I wondered if his butler had brought it to the barn doors, and how Oren communicated with his stone staff. I tried not to think about gargoyles preparing the food I ate, because frankly, it should have been impossible.
The loft was outfitted with hammocks, which were warm and comfortable. We slept on opposite sides of the loft while the gentle sway of the hammock lulled me to sleep. I woke a few times, startled by the howling of wolves, the crying of a creature in pain, and thrashing in the woods. Secretly, I wondered if Oren wanted to spend the night in the barn to make me aware of the dangers of the forest at night.
But I’d already decided how I’d escape. If he trusted me to spy alone in the palace, I could run. All I needed was money. Even though I was curious about the vault and Oren’s vendetta, I couldn’t let his plan distract me. I had to flee the moment the opportunity presented itself, and I expected it would be soon.
In the morning, Oren was already gone when I woke. Climbing down the ladder, I found him in the workshop, finishing up my outfit.
“Try it on,” he said, tossing the trousers across the table to me. When I hesitated, he turned around. “I won’t look.”
Keeping an eye on him, I tugged on the trousers, which hung low on my hips. Wiggling out of my dress, I quickly pulled on the shirt. It stretched tight across my chest, but I noticed Oren had sewn pockets within. It was more like a tunic, falling to mid-thigh—allowing me to hide the knife underneath it but providing easy access. Oren’s idea. He’d also added hidden pockets to hold any information I needed to steal. The clothes molded perfectly to my body, and I strutted around the workshop, mortified at how impressed I was with Oren’s skills. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. An entire outfit in one day was nothing short of miraculous.
“Better.” He surveyed me. “We should go.”
“Without breakfast?”
His long legs carried him out of the workshop, and I hastened to follow, thinking of cinnamon buns and another conversation on the balcony.
