Cyan Toxin (Mixologists and Pirates Book 4) Page 2

  She almost pulled a face, but barely managed to keep her expression smooth. She’d had enough Sai moonshine for the rest of her life. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “I like to consider myself knowledgeable when it comes to booze, and I like my spirits to actually taste like spirits. Plus,” she drawled, “I like my mental faculties how they are, thank you very much.” Anger bubbled in her gut. She didn’t want to think about the last time she’d partaken in Sai moonshine. Even now, she didn’t know what was real and what was fake.

  “Something you and I both appreciate. It seems like we have much in common.”

  “I assumed so,” she said archly, waving her hand around the room. “I assumed that’s why we’re here. Because we are of like minds.” Allie wanted to gag at the way he eyed her, but she batted her lashes. “And for our love of art.” Art seemed like the code word for sex. But he wasn’t getting that from her. He had another thing coming.

  He swirled the whiskey around in the glass and placed it before her with a roguish smile.

  “Thank you.” Allie pulled the old fashioned closer and gave it a whiff. It smelled right.

  “You don’t trust my expertise?”

  Allie peeked up at him. “I rarely trust anyone, but that’s not why I smelled it. I’m a mixologist.”

  “And?” he said slowly, leaning closer.

  “You did quite well. It smells delicious.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad my lady approves.”

  She turned her head from him and slid as carefully as she could from the tall barstool, wiggling her dress back down into place. It wouldn’t do to flash her butt at him. It would be like waving a red flag at a bull. Her brow wrinkled. Did they still do that on Earth? She shook her head. Thoughts for another time.

  Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she began to walk slowly toward the paintings, putting extra swagger into her step, the ice in her glass tinkling like tiny bells.

  She halted in front of the first piece, gaping at the gruesome art. Stars above, she was thankful she hadn’t eaten all day. She probably would’ve thrown up everywhere.

  His voice carried across the room. “So, you’re a lover of art and spirits?”

  Allie swallowed hard and forced her mouth shut. Now was not the time to lose it. She was so close to her goal. All she had to do was get him to kiss her. Time to turn on the Southern charm.

  She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, noting the two hulking guards had stationed themselves outside of the room. How convenient. He obviously expected something to happen between them. “And you’re a great lover of women?” She thickened her accent, so it was like warm honey. It was the one her mama always used to butter up her papa. It had never failed her mama and it didn’t fail her now. The king visibly relaxed. What a sucker.

  “Is that what they’re saying about me?”

  “Among other things,” she murmured, turning back to the painting, keenly feeling how alone she was. It was only her and the most notorious mass murderer ever to live. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she rubbed a hand down to her fingertips, her breath coming a little faster. She couldn’t panic. That would put her in more danger than she already was. And she wasn’t alone, Allie reminded herself. The team would never let her get hurt. Bitterness burned in her belly. Not because they cared, but because they needed her.

  “Does that bother you?”

  She took a small sip from her glass. “Not as much as it should. Not much scares me.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the room.

  “You’re blunt.”

  “It’s part of my charm.”

  A beat of silence met her statement, and a deep laugh rumbled behind her. “Indeed, it is. I like it.”

  The painting blurred before her eyes, but every garish stroke was imprinted on her mind. She blinked, trying to focus on the art and not the dangerous male in the room. “Most men don’t.”

  She moved on to the next picture and kept a frozen smile on her face. Horses charged across a stormy battlefield, heavily armored Av riders on their backs. Humans littered the battleground, the rain turned pinks and reds. It looked so real, like it was an actual depiction of a real battle. Allie squinted at the piece. Humans had not used horses in warfare for thousands of years. She stared at the warrior in the center of the battlefield. A gasp lodged in her throat. The warrior looked suspiciously similar to Sloven. The warrior’s red eyes shone from the painting, lit with unholy glee. What really disturbed her was that his left foot rested on a dying Human, like the man was garbage. Could it be possible that the king was actually there?

  Quiet steps neared, and Sloven paused next to her left side, his white shirt brushing her bare arm. He stared at the painting as well, taking a healthy swig of the violet liquor from his glass.

  “This is one of my favorites. The artist captured the bloodlust of battle.”

  Allie suppressed her horror and gazed dispassionately at the art. She tilted her head to the side, as if scrutinizing the painting. “It does have a grisly honesty to it,” she commented.

  He placed a massive hand at the base of her spine and directed her to the next painting. One after another, he explained the significance and style of each one. The paintings were disgusting and vile and brutal. She tried to find a crown of beauty in each so the king didn’t see right through her farce. By the last painting, Allie thought she was desensitized to anything that could shock her. But she was wrong. So wrong.

  The final painting caused her to freeze in place. Her cheeks heated, and she wanted to look anywhere else but at the morbid image before her. But she dared not look away. Instead she lifted her chin and gazed boldly at the painting. Her eyes began to water as she stared so hard.

  Sloven moved closer and whispered in her ear. “This is my favorite of all.”

  She could see why. The warrior in the picture was just as depraved and immoral as he was. The painting depicted a pale, naked Human woman chained to a stone wall, a splash of red silk wrapped around her, covering her important bits, or at least part of them. The Av warrior stood next to her, his gauntleted fingers trailing the curve of her delicate waist, staring at her in a way that spoke of covetousness. The entire painting held an edge of danger and lust.

  Allie shifted uncomfortably and cocked her head to study the painting. His heavy armor seemed at odds with the indecent way the woman was dressed. A naked body could be a thing of beauty, but the chains turned it into something ugly and bitter. Was the woman a conquest of war?

  “Do you see how much he cares for his woman?” Sloven whispered, his voice deep. His breath heated the side of her neck as he pressed closer. Allie held her ground and fought not to step away.

  “He looks like he’s coveting something that does not belong to him,” she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. “He appears to be a captor, not a lover.” She glanced up from beneath her lashes and arched a brow.

  The king reached a hand toward her face and brushed a curl from her cheek, ignoring the painting. A small shiver worked through her at being the king’s sole focus.

  “Can he not be both?” he asked.

  “Love is exactly the opposite of a cage.” Allie gestured to the picture. “How could he possibly love her if he’s holding her hostage? That’s not love. Love needs space to grow. You can’t force it.”

  A thoughtful look passed over his face. “What a youthful way to think of love,” he mused. “So, are you a secret romantic at heart?” he asked.

  She was, but she’d not tell him that. “No, I’m a realist.”

  “Who are we to say what they had wasn’t real? Love must be protected. When we find something that precious, we must hold it close and protect it.”

  She turned toward him. “Protecting something is not the same as capturing something.” It was probably the wrong thing to say to the man she was supposed to seduce, but she couldn’t hold her tongue on this.

  Apparently, he liked her blunt honesty, because he
smiled and leaned close.

  Her heart kicked up in pace, and Allie knew this was the moment she’d been waiting for, but something stopped her. Sloven didn’t seem to be the type of man who liked things to come easy. As his lips drew nearer, she turned her face, so they grazed her cheek and lingered there for a moment.

  “I’m not the sort of woman that you keep chained,” she said offhandedly, and shifted to the side, just out of his reach. Red eyes pinned her to the spot.

  “I would never keep you chained,” he rumbled back.

  That was a lie, and she knew it.

  Allie grinned and sauntered away, her dress twirling around her legs and her heels sinking into the plush carpet near the velvety couches. Hopefully, that was the last of his paintings.

  She stumbled a step when his hands wrapped around her waist, his thumbs running across her hips. He placed a kiss on the back of her neck, causing her fingers to clench around her glass. Her gaze went distant as the memory of Blade doing the same thing not thirty minutes ago slammed into her. The thought alone made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

  “You, my dear, are quite the interesting conundrum.”

  It took her a moment to snap back into the present, and when she did, she froze. They stood across from a mirror, and surprise, surprise, it was gold. She took a sip of her drink and watched as he stared at her in the mirror.

  “I’m a simple girl,” she said.

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” he replied.

  “Beauty can be found in all things. It’s not uncommon.”

  “True, but intelligence is difficult to find.”

  She smiled from behind her glass. “My thoughts exactly. I’d rather be intelligent than pretty.”

  Sloven placed another kiss on her bare shoulder, drew his fingers across and down her arm, and linked his fingers with hers. “I’m lucky that you are both.” He drew her toward the velvety, purple couch and tugged on her hand gently, encouraging her to sit with him.

  The man was good. She’d give him that much. He knew exactly the right thing to say. She glanced around the room. But if the paintings were anything to go by, he was very old and had had time to perfect his game.

  Her heel caught on the rug, and she stumbled, almost face-planting. A small embarrassed sound escaped her throat as she realized she was grasping the king’s thigh with one hand and the back of the velvet couch with the other.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing at Sloven’s amused face. At least he thought the situation was funny.

  Allie scrambled back and yanked off her heels. The stupid things would be the death of her. A groan slipped from her mouth as her toes sank into the plush rug. Damn. It was soooo soft. She placed her heels side by side, studiously ignoring the king, and sighed as she sat on one of the most comfortable couches her bum had ever had the pleasure of sitting on. Her feet were extremely thankful she had released them from their torture devices.

  “That good?” he asked.

  She flashed him a genuine smile. “My feet are killing me. It’s good to be off them.” She blinked at him and then looked down to her abandoned shoes. At least if she had to run, she wouldn’t be hampered.

  His eyes traced her legs down to the shoes on the floor. “I don’t envy your sex for the pains that go into being beautiful. Though, I do have an appreciation for them.” The heat in his voice was unmistakable. “But I always preferred my women a little undone.”

  Allie snorted and then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No need for pleasantries. We’ve been honest and blunt with each other all evening. It would be a pity to stop now.” A shrug. “Plus, I like how comfortable you look on my couch.” Her heart began to race as he reached down to her foot and pulled it into his lap. He ran his thumb up the arch of her foot, and she wiggled in place. He gave her a boyish smile that took her off guard. “Does that feel okay?”

  Allie wiggled again as he massaged her foot, a giggle slipping out in spite of herself. “I’m ticklish.”

  Sloven allowed her to pull her foot back and tuck it up under her skirt as he sat back. He laid his arms across the back of the couch, his fingers grazing her arm. He cocked his head, his red hair sprawling carelessly over his forehead. It was really unfair how attractive he was. Really, it was. He looked like a king as he sprawled across the luxurious couch. Between his muscled chest and his expensive clothing, all he was missing was his tiara. Tiara. She stifled a giggle and hid her smile. She suspected he wouldn’t like her comparing his crown to a tiara.

  Allie lifted her other foot and tucked it underneath her, arranging her skirt to make sure she covered all her important bits. She placed her elbow onto the back of the couch and leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand, staring at Sloven. He pressed closer, his white dress shirt going taut across his chest. It boggled her mind that someone so beautiful could be so evil and even pass as normal.

  But he was anything but normal. He must’ve thought her just as sadistic as he, because he’d brought her here, a reluctant spy, into his room of painted debauchery, as a date. Who did that?

  Someone who was messed up, that’s who.

  Allie swallowed and forced her body to relax, like she was on a real date, and asked the question on her mind: “Why did you invite me here?”

  The king observed her for a quiet moment. “Would you like the truth or the flattering answer?”

  “I always prefer the truth,” she replied. Allie’s hand shook a little as she placed her half-finished old fashioned on the side table. No more for her. She couldn’t take any chances with botching her mission.

  “You attracted attention tonight. I only want the best things life can offer. And tonight, you were the best.”

  Allie blinked at him. God, he was arrogant. But she kept her mouth shut as he held up a finger.

  “But that’s not all,” he said. “I didn’t only want you because everyone else wanted you…”

  “Not everyone wanted me,” she cut in. “That’s not realistic or probable. It’s rubbish. Not all men want one woman. I’m just Human.”

  “That you are.” He sniffed, causing her to straighten. Stars above, she hated the darn sniffing. “Not everyone wanted you, you’re right, but you did draw attention. You look like a wholesome daisy amongst a field of thorns and roses. You looked out of place and utterly alluring. I guarantee you that I wasn’t the only one who wanted to pick you.”

  “Picking,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. He bounced his eyebrows at her, and her nose wrinkled. Allie narrowed her eyes at him. “There will be no picking,” she enunciated slowly, so he got the point. “Picking. That’s disgusting.”

  The king threw back his head, exposing the line of his neck, and let out a deep booming laugh. Shoulders shaking, he wiped his eyes and shook his head at her. “If you’re not here for the picking, then why are you here?”

  She quirked a smile at him all the while feeling sick to her stomach. “To see the king’s collection of art, of course,” she deadpanned. Her glib reply was ignored as he leaned closer, his gaze trained on hers.

  “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

  “A woman has to have her secrets.”

  “Secrets,” he murmured, swirling his drink around his glass. He tossed it back and met her gaze boldly. “Secrets … they always have a funny way of coming out.”

  “Isn’t that the truth…” she drawled.

  He smiled a secret smile and lifted his chin to her in the male way. A challenge. “Tell me one secret, something that most people don’t know.”

  She tapped her chin like she was thinking about it and leaned closer as if sharing a deep dark secret. “I’m a cheap date,” she whispered, and gestured to her half-empty tumbler. “I can’t handle my liquor, so only a wee bit for me.”

  His smile was practically sinful as he scooted closer and ran a fingertip from her temple to her cheekbone, and then across the delicate skin underneath h
er jaw.

  “Now it’s your turn,” she urged.

  “I’m enthralled by things I shouldn’t be. And I’m ruthless in the pursuit of the things that I want.”

  Here goes nothing.

  Allie licked her lips to draw his attention and make sure she activated the truth serum. It was now or never. If she didn’t give him a real kiss, everything would be for nothing.

  She ran her hand along the necklace that hung from her neck and prayed that whatever was in it would really work if she needed it to.

  “That's not much of a secret,” she murmured. His wine-colored eyes dropped to her cherry red lips and stayed there. Hold still, she repeated in her mind. She could do this. It was just one kiss. His fingers sank into her blond curls and cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head back. She held perfectly still as he gazed into her eyes as if he was trying to figure out her secrets, secrets she desperately needed to hide if she wanted to come out of this alive.

  His lips curled up at the corners like he’d discovered what he was looking for. “I always keep what’s mine. And you are mine,” he whispered.

  “That’s a little forward,” she whispered back, even as her heart began to pound in her chest.

  “Even my greatest conquests can’t escape me.”

  Creepy. Allie forced herself to respond. “You’ve never met someone like me.”

  He grinned, and it held an edge of darkness. “And you’ve never dealt with a man like me.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle,” she murmured as her lips brushed his.

  “Good. I should warn you, I never lose.”

  And then he pressed his lips to hers.

  3

  You’re Not that Beautiful

  She expected him to ravage her. He didn’t. He slowly coaxed her mouth to dance with his, and pressed closer. Allie forced herself to stay upright. There was no way in heck he was getting her on her back. That could only lead down one path, one she wouldn’t go down.