Basic common sense told her to find something else to sleep in. If she fell asleep in the charmed robe, she was going to start a wolf war with her howl.
Sasha flung open the armoire doors, practically frantic, and began hunting. But sheer, lace gowns, obscenely indecent lingerie, and white silk sheaths glistened back at her, clearly charmed. The other options weren’t much better. There was an elaborate ball gown that stole her focus for a moment, and she pulled it out to hold it up against her as she stared into the full-length mirror attached to the door.
It was a glimmering blend of moss greens and woodland earth tones splashed across a sheer overlay with a forest-green silk sheath. The arms were bare, cut in a scoop to reveal her shoulders, but the front came up at the neck and was collared by exquisite genuine emerald bead-work. She turned sideways and pulled out the train and noticed that it was backless. But sheer panels fanned out on the floor-the gown was so beautiful that she gently returned it to the white padded hanger with reverence. A pair of silver-heeled, amber-and emerald-crusted shoes sat twinkling on the crystal rack beside a small emerald-encrusted purse. A white, velvet case revealed teardrop emerald and amber earrings.
“Oh, Sir Rodney… you shouldn’t have.” The note inside read,
Food. She needed to eat, clear her head, and stay focused. It didn’t matter that she’d brought a really inexpensive little black dress from Target to go with a pair of basic black pumps to wear for her birthday. She had never been a fashionista and black seemed to work with everything-but damn. If she wore that to the ball, she’d be vastly underdressed. But if she wore what Sir Rodney had left for her…
Sasha slapped her cheeks. She had to stop thinking about irrelevant things! “Steak, rare, with string beans-not too mushy, cooked but still crunchy… And, uh, new potatoes and a really, really cold beer would be nice,” she called out, testing Rupert’s instructions.
Within seconds the smell of broiled meat filled the room.
“Gotta love the Fae,” she murmured, pacing to the table.
A chair moved itself out for her to take a seat. Sasha just shook her head and plopped down. What the platter revealed made her close her eyes and say a little prayer. Gratitude filled every fiber of her being as she took up her fork and knife to find that there was no need for a steak knife. It was free-range bison, marinated to perfection and so tender that all she had to do was gently press the side of her fork into it and the meat cut. “Damn…”
It was impossible not to wolf down her meal, and the cold beer that she’d asked for made her stop with the first sip and close her eyes, holding the chalice in midair. “Oh, man…”
Bread baked to Dwarf perfection with honey butter made her lose her manners as she sopped up the juice on her plate and moaned with every bite. Until she had started eating, she hadn’t realized how starved she’d been. The vegetables were grilled to perfection, the potatoes so sweet and tender they melted like the bread on her tongue. Every bite of her steak made her close her eyes and moan out loud. By the time she covered the platter with the silver dome and polished off her second chalice of ale, she could barely keep her eyes open.
But it was amazing what a bath and full belly could do to a she-wolf’s mind. Relaxation brought clarity. Sasha sat up slowly. They didn’t have to do a frontal assault on a powerful Unseelie queen that would put the Fae at war. Queen Blatand of Hecate, for all her possibly unsavory qualities, most likely was unaware of the goings-on of the lower members of her court. Woman to woman and leader to leader, Sasha had to admit that she’d be equally pissed off if someone attacked her base just because Bear Shadow or Woods did something stupid.
Sasha stared at the moonlight. If something like that happened, the first instinct would be a defensive strike- then, and only then, would there be conversations about who’d shot John… And then the bottom line would be where was the respect? Why didn’t your nation come to our nation and lodge the complaint? There was no warning shot fired over the bow and you’ve attacked us? Nah… the Wolf Clans wouldn’t go for that, either, so why would a powerful Unseelie queen?
There had to be a way of forcing her hand, diplomatically, into outing the members of her own court that were involved in wrongdoing. And those guys were most likely here, not overseas wherever she resided.
An angry smile tugged at Sasha’s cheek. If they were with Vampires, an attack had already been launched against her people at Dugan’s old B &B… which meant that they had technically gone after Winters on Fae land. The Seelie Fae owned Dugan’s old spot, as well as the bar that Winters was running from. Winters was a clearly unarmed human that was resident in a Fae hostel, thus a guest, and therefore, by UCE law, the Vampires had launched an unprovoked attack on both the Fae and a member of the Shadow Wolf Clan’s protected membership. Beautiful. Baron Montague was gonna spit out his eyeteeth over this!
“Yeah…” Sasha said, thinking out loud. They could burn Vampire lairs in daylight looking, supposedly, for the female-the redhead-by law. And, knowing the Vampires, they would out the Unseelie spell-caster that had cost them so much prime real estate. Once they had the little son of a bitch in custody, they’d turn the screws on him… Wouldn’t take much; Shadow Wolves could always smell a lie. An emergency UCE trial could be called by the second night, and the Unseelie queen would be barred from retaliation. “Damn, Sir Rodney… I wish you didn’t have to wait for the morning to get this,” she murmured.
A light knock on her door startled her and yanked her focus away from the window. Flustered, she got up and went to the door, tucking her wet hair up into a loose twist. For a few seconds she just stared.
“May I come in?” Sir Rodney asked, his expression so serious that her body stood aside without consulting her brain.
He was freshly bathed, smelled divine, and wore only a long forest-green silk robe.
“Umm… I think I misspoke,” Sasha said, quickly closing the door behind him.
“You said you didn’t want to wait until morning,” he murmured, coming closer to her until her back hit the door. “Sasha… I…” His words fell away as his fingers trembled against her cheek.
“You’ve bewitched the room,” she said quietly. “No fair.”
He shook his head. “It is I who has been bespelled since the beginning.”
“Oh, Lord.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands.
“No need for formal titles between lovers,” he said in a thickly sensual murmur.
“No, no,” she said quickly, pointing up. “I was talking about that one.”
He chuckled and stepped back an inch with a good-natured smile. “Even the Fae don’t tangle with the Ultimate… So what caused you to send up a prayer? Am I that much of a disappointment?”
“No,” she said quickly, placing her palm on his chest. “It’s not that… I did want you to come here, but because I want us to figure out a way to avoid an all-out Fae war… Your people cannot endure that; the humans cannot endure that. There must be a way.”
He stared at her, the humor fading from his incredible jewel-blue eyes, desire replacing it. He took up her hand, deeply kissing the center of her palm, and allowed it to fall away from his. When she hugged herself he touched her cheek, studying the facets of her face as though she were a priceless gem.
“Sasha, you are not only beautiful, radiantly so… but your heart is that of pure gold. Not fool’s gold, but pure gold; do you understand the difference, love? If you don’t, let me assure you that we Fae are well aware… and you are what lies at the end of a rainbow.”
She swallowed hard as his eyes left hers to slowly survey her body so intensely that it sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t answer, much less move. The sexual energy that radiated off him was complete devastation.
“There is honor and integrity, the likes of which would knock the wind from any man standing. I have been felled by you, Sasha… And yet, it is this same integrity that frustrates the bloody hell out of me as we speak. You consider yourself mated, a married woman.”
The last part of Sir Rodney’s statement came out more like a wistful question. Her brain struggled to find the right gear to make her mouth work, stalling out like a bad transmission, slipping, not catching.
“Uh, yeah,” she finally sputtered out. “That’s a problem.”
“Are you sure?” Sir Rodney said in a low, baritone murmur, stepping closer. “It doesn’t have to be.”
His hands found her wet hair, as his mouth sought hers. Warm male body fused with her stomach and thighs and breasts in a hot, blanketing wash. As he intensified the kiss, a channel of heat filled her mouth, traveled down her esophagus, to implode in her stomach and course heat throughout her belly until it overtook her womb.
“We have to-”
Another ardent kiss stopped her protest, but as he went for the sash of her robe, she grabbed the ends of it and pulled hard.
