In Enemy Hands: MM Romance, page 15
Horrifyingly, my own eyes begin to prick. I’m unprepared for the surge of emotion. Out on the steppes, it was easier to push the pain to the back of my mind. But here, everything is too familiar.
A man in a grubby coat bumps Aaron’s shoulder, and I’m back in the present, berating myself for losing focus. The man apologizes, rheumy eyes evasive, and only one hand visible. Premonition rising, I seize him and slam him hard into the wall of a pawnshop. He gasps, gibbering questions, playing the innocent. His silly act convinces Aaron’s too-kind heart.
“Neil, what’re you doing?” He’s wide-eyed with shock, tugging at my arm in a futile effort to make me release the man. “It was an accident…”
Aaron trails off as the man takes his flute from his inside pocket.
“Now apologize to my friend,” I growl.
Keeping anxious eyes on me, the pickpocket half-turns to Aaron and bows low.
“A thousand apologies, sir.”
“Leave us,” I say.
The pickpocket flees into the crowd, leaving behind the scent of cheap tobacco.
“He almost got my flute.” Aaron’s shocked face has lost several shades of color. I close his fist over the precious instrument.
“But he didn’t,” I say softly.
He nods, replacing the flute in his knapsack and then looking up at me with a grateful expression that makes me blush.
“Thank you, Neil,” he says. “My hero for the second time.”
I don’t deserve his praise—it’s my fault that the man got so close. My mind had wandered. I lead him quickly into a more salubrious district. Carriages and phaetons replace countryish carts. Stately stone buildings replace the rickety wood-and-rope constructions of the rougher outskirts, which have always seemed to me to defy the laws of gravity. Now the shops sell fine-looking candles, racks of lamb and venison, silks and soaps, and jewel-encrusted swords. The pedestrians are better dressed and keep their distance. There is no more jostling, and certainly no pickpocketing. Gas lamps spring from the pavement.
Aaron begins to relax. He slips his hand into mine.
“Is your flute valuable?” I say curiously. “Why did that pickpocket go straight for it?”
Aaron shrugs. “No one in the city knows how to make steppes flutes, and we aren’t telling anyone. Some will pay as much as eighty thousand flinters for one.”
I’m not a materialistic man, but I’m staggered. That battered, plain-looking flute would buy a small apartment in one of the better districts of the city. The little fool is carrying around a fortune. His naivety never fails to amaze me. And I’m so wrapped around his finger, I can’t even get annoyed at him. It’s hard to say who’s the bigger fool.
“Not that I’d part with my flute for twice that much,” he goes on happily, oblivious as usual. “My grandmother made it.”
“That’s nice, my love,” is all I can manage in reply.
I resolve to get that damn instrument into a safe as soon as possible. No doubt Aaron will put up a fight, but I must overrule him this time. I don’t look forward to that argument.
Chapter 35
Aaron
Neil is so sweet and protective as we venture into the city. He does all the talking in stores so I can hide my accent. He insists on taking horse-drawn cabs everywhere to rest my ankle. And he entertains me with stories of his life here, from his favorite taverns to the streets where he was posted on guard as a young cadet.
But when we turn into a wide, tree-lined boulevard—one of the richest in the city—his mood changes. He goes suddenly quiet, a frown marring his brow.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He shakes himself out of a daze. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve completely clammed up.”
“Have I? Maybe I’m a little tired.”
I doubt it. We’ve barely walked more than a few steps. I’m stung that he doesn’t want to confide in me. What is it about this street that’s getting to him? He seems to keep glancing back at Brannen House, a minor palace that belongs to the Royal Family. I can’t figure out why. It isn’t a military building. Unease wraps around my chest. This is the only thing I don’t like about Neil. This stubborn secrecy, the way he clams up when he doesn’t want to discuss something.
I don’t expect him to tell me everything about his past. But he still hasn’t even explained why he was out on the steppes all alone. Maybe he thinks I don’t know enough about the army to realize that it was strange. Teara’s warning is still at the back of my mind. She might be a rotten friend and a traitor, but she’s no fool. She tapped into my worries like a owl swooping on its prey. I know Neil is keeping something from me. Is it because he’s one of those people who keeps his feelings locked in a vault? Or is it because I’m Haztar? Doesn’t he trust me as much as I trust him?
The cab turns into Alvert Park, and I try to turn the page on my anxious thoughts. Maybe there’s an innocent explanation for Neil’s secrecy. Don’t I owe him the benefit of the doubt? He’s been nothing but good to me. He risked his life to protect me—he could’ve handed me over to those bandits without a fight. But he didn’t hesitate for a second when they came for me. The way he looks at me when we make love proves how much I mean to him. All that big talk about being “the boss” was just play. I know he sees me as his equal, his partner in crime. I know how much his duty as a soldier means to him. To be with me at all, to be sneaking around the city together in violation of Rhennian law—it’s validation of our relationship.
I take his hand and interlink our fingers, sensing him relax.
In the park, the air is much cleaner than in the clogged city streets. I even catch a faint whiff of blossom on the air. The gurgle of water fountains makes a faint background melody, mingling with birdsong. People walk more slowly here, and are more eager to smile at passersby. A stately tree sweeps its branches almost to the ground like the parasol of a fine lady, and the shade calls to me. I nudge Neil, who asks the cab driver to let us out here.
We sit down under the tree and I start to look through our haul of goods from the stores. When I check one of Neil’s bags, there’s an item I don’t remember buying. It’s a brass spyglass with intricate engraved patterns on the casing. Its weight speaks of quality. I put it to my eye, and the buildings at the far end of the park swing into dizzying closeness.
“How much did this cost, Neil?” I ask.
“I thought it would be useful for your group.” He avoids the price question, not too smoothly. “You know. You can use it to watch for approaching… soldiers.”
I place the glass carefully back in the bag. My fingers tremble at the weight of the gesture. My anxiety about his secretiveness recedes. This gift is huge. The spyglass will help my people to evade capture by his army. The message is clear. His loyalty is to me.
“Thank you, Neil.” I put my palm on the side of his sweet, scarred face, running my fingers through his thick stubble. He hasn’t shaved in days. “By the way, have I mentioned how much I love this look on you?”
“Don’t get too attached. I'll have to shave it when I go back on duty.”
A shadow crosses his face. Have I upset him by praising his beard? Maybe he's annoyed that he won't be able to keep it for me.
“I could have a word with your superior officers,” I say, trying to make a joke of it.
He smiles at that, though it's a little forced. “I don’t think they’d be receptive. Unfortunately.”
“Not even if I told them I really love it?”
“They’re a hard-hearted lot.”
“Spoilsports.”
I scratch at the soft black hairs on his jawline. He forgets his momentary dark mood, closing his eyes at my touch. I love how his body unconsciously leans closer to me, like a flower aiming for the sun.
I think about his expensive gift of the spyglass. Priceless, actually, when I think about what it symbolizes.
It’s the two of us now. United.
Chapter 36
Neil
Aaron and I have been in the city for a couple of days, exploring the quieter streets, lazing in bed together, eating in the kind of restaurants where no one cares about illegal Haztar visitors. I still haven’t told him the truth about Senali. I came very close when he complimented my new beard. But I lost my nerve, not wanting to see his happiness fade. He was so overwhelmed with my gift of the spyglass. I didn’t want to place any doubts in his mind. But like with any lie of omission, the longer I go without confessing, the more difficult it seems.
I will tell him. Soon.
But not tonight. Tonight I’m tired of hiding him away. Tonight I want to take him somewhere fancy. He deserves the best. I decide on the restaurant of the Grand Hotel. The plan isn’t as foolhardy as it sounds… I hope. The hotel is owned by my close friend Amina. To avoid Aaron’s accent being overheard by staff, she’ll wait on us herself. And with my current social pariah status, and the ghost of Senali hovering over my head, it’s unlikely anyone will approach if they see me on a date with someone else.
I lead Aaron down the sweeping marble staircase to the lobby. He falls silent, glancing around with apprehension. I’m apprehensive myself. I’m sure there’s a little murmur as I appear, gazes flicking to me, whispers of Senali. I ignore it all, only hoping that Aaron notices nothing amiss. But he seems too nervous, glancing around at our stylish surroundings. Thick red and purple tapestries cover the walls. The bar is decorated with ornate wood carvings: dragons and other beasts of myth, interspersed with scenes of Rhennnian military victories. Chandeliers hold candles which stretch for the frescoed ceiling like upside-down icicles. Every table is full of richly clothed patrons whose voices blend into a well-bred background hum.
Amina leads us to a private corner table. Aaron stares at the menu, delicacies written in Amina’s own elaborate hand, and looks at me in helpless confusion.
“I haven’t heard of any of these dishes,” he says.
I squeeze his arm in reassurance. “Do you want me to order for you?”
He nods gratefully.
After giving Amina our order, I glance around the room, at high-ranking army officers, minor nobles, prominent merchants, and a couple of members of the city council. Aaron fixes his hair self-consciously. Firelight makes his cheeks flush pink and sends sparkles into his amber eyes. He looks even more enchanting than ever.
“I suppose we could look at this as our first date in a nice restaurant,” I say.
“I suppose we could. Unless you want to count that, uh… lovely meal in the tavern. What even was that meat in the pie?”
I laugh. “Some things are better left unknown, mosquito. Are you enjoying yourself so far?”
He drops his voice confidentially. “It’s a little overwhelming. Look at all these fine people.”
I scoff. “That one awaits trial for embezzlement,” I whisper. “And that one was caught with his two sisters-in-law, and his underpants around his ankles.” I point out a tall, lanky man with a shock of untidy hair who by no means looks a lady-killer, though the story is true.
Aaron lets out a shriek of laughter that draws a few eyes. He covers his mouth.
“Don’t make me laugh so loud,” he chides. “Now everyone’s looking at me.”
“They’re looking because you’re the most beautiful thing in this whole room.”
As usual, he looks bashfully disbelieving. Perhaps he’ll never realize how breathtaking he is. Amina brings over a bowl of berries as an appetizer, distracting him from his embarrassment. They’re oddly familiar. Orange-red and garish.
Hoti berries.
I nudge him. “Your favorite. I’ve never seen them in the city before.”
“They’re a bit tart for city tastes. Not much of a market for them here…” He isn’t focusing on what he’s saying, grinning to himself as though he has a secret.
“What’re you thinking of now?” I ask.
“This reminds me of something. When we were out on the steppes—when I was still your prisoner, I mean—I imagined my family catching up to us, and getting the upper hand on you.”
I like that wicked little glint in his eye.
“Oh?” I say. “And then what? I’m sure you weren’t too hard on me. You’re much too sweet, and good, and forgiving…”
“Not too hard, no. I just made you feed me hoti berries.”
“A fitting punishment for me,” I agree.
So he was already fantasizing about me back then, even though he refused to admit it when we were in bed. At least I wasn’t the only one whose thoughts roamed inappropriately. I pick up a berry and roll it around in my fingers. His lips quirk into a smile.
“Really?” he says, glancing around the room. “Here?”
“Why not?”
I hold one out to him, and he takes it in his white teeth. His hot breath on my hand sends sparks through me. I can’t help feeding him another, and another. As usual, I sink right into our own little world, but with a nagging worry. Are we drawing too much attention to ourselves? I must remember that Aaron is supposed to be keeping a low profile. Something about him chases my natural soldier’s caution right to the back of my mind.
Luckily, before we can get too carried away Amina is back, wheeling a laden trolley. A silver platter of roasted boar, a tureen of noodles in gravy, blue beans topped with herbs, and a plate of pillowy bread rolls, almost as yellow as the butter that’s curled into delicate seashell shapes and arranged at the side.
“This is a feast,” Aaron says, eyes wide. “We can’t eat all this.”
“Of course you can. Wouldn’t hurt to put some meat on your bones,” Amina says. She digs me in the ribs. “You look after him, you hear me?”
“I will,” I promise.
When we’re finished with the main course, despite his obvious enjoyment Aaron has only managed half of his portion. Servings are admittedly very large here. But it seems strange, considering how much he was capable of eating when we were out on the steppes.
“Now Amina will challenge you to a duel,” I joke. “She takes it very personally when customers don’t finish their meals.”
“No way. A duel? Just because I couldn’t eat everything?”
I nod solemnly, though my insides ache from holding in the laughter. I didn’t really expect him to believe me.
“She’s unusually proud of her boar recipe. And more than a little eccentric.”
“But I didn’t mean anything! The food was delicious, I was just too full.” He glances warily at her across the room. “Surely some other people haven’t...?”
We look around. It’s a greedy crowd tonight—everyone’s plates are clear.
Aaron gulps at the sight. “Is… is she a good shot?”
“Excellent.”
“Neil, please. Tell her I didn’t mean it. I’ll do anything…”
His honey eyes are huge. I don’t know whether to laugh at him for being so hopelessly gullible, or to kiss him for being so cute.
“Anything?” I reach under the table and squeeze his thigh. “I may have to hold you to that, mosquito.”
His eyes narrow. “Hang on, are you messing with me?”
“What makes you think that?” My words come out strangled as I lose the battle to hold in my mirth.
“That isn’t fair, Neil. You scared me.” His face gets sulky. “You know I can’t shoot to save my life.”
“Oh, my love, I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Is it my fault that you’re so gullible?”
“You’re the one who believed that falling out of a Lela tree means you’re cursed,” he snaps.
I feel prickle of guilt; perhaps he was really worried for a few moments.
“Touché,” I admit.
“So she isn’t a good shot?” he adds, calming down.
He looks over at Amina again with interest. Not for the first time, I thank the stars for his changeable moods.
“Oh, she’s one of the best shots in the whole city. But she would never pick a fight over roast boar.” I lean forward and hold his gaze. “And if she did, don’t you think that I’d be right there between you and the bullet?”
“I guess you would.” He starts to smile. “Like when those bandits came for me.”
“I’d protect you with my last breath. And I’ll make it up to you for the cruel prank. We’ll do anything you want tonight.”
“Deal,” he says, with indecent haste. “Let’s skip dessert.”
Chapter 37
Neil
I lost no time in obeying Aaron’s command, only pausing to grab a bowl of chocolate mousse from the kitchen. Once up in our room I remove his city clothes, kneeling down in front of him to unbutton his trousers. When he’s gloriously naked before me, I kiss his hipbone with reverence. He smiles down at me, and I can’t resist slipping him into my mouth for a sneaky taste. His face takes on a blissful expression.
“Shall we take a bath?” I say.
It amuses me to make him wait a little longer for the main course.
When I turn on the faucets, he watches with admiration as the hot water flows. Steam billows around the room. We get into the tub together, laughing as our knees collide. The bath was built more for style than size. It struggles to accommodate two, especially when one is as big as me. I squeeze myself into a concertina shape, watching hungrily as Aaron dunks his hair under the water, emerging with an exhilarated gasp. I’m still unable to quite believe that such beauty is within my grasp.
We get out when our fingertips begin to prune. The bedroom smells sweetly thanks to vases on the window ledge. A little breeze travels through the open window, bringing the floral perfume to my nose every few moments, mingling tantalizingly with Aaron’s masculine scent. I don’t think I could get any happier than I am at this moment.
“You said you would make it up to me,” Aaron says, as we walk naked to the bed. “For that cruel joke you played on me earlier.”
