Shield's Lady

too much about him.
    He could be dangerous.
    An implacable enemy.
    He would be a fiercely possessive lover.
    Sariana felt the breath catch in her throat at that last, unbidden thought. For a few shocking seconds she questioned the fundamental intelligence behind the plan she had initiated and talked the Avylyns into accepting. She wondered if she had just made the biggest mistake of her short career as a business manager.
    But as she had told her clients, there was no turning back.

    Gryph Chassyn focused painfully on the woman standing above him, the one who had had the breathtaking arrogance to actually separate him from his weapon kit. No sane westerner would have risked such an act, unless the fool was looking to get his or her throat slit.
    The woman was still standing because Gryph sensed that she did not realize the significance of what she had done. There were others in the room who did realize it, but he ignored them. The woman was the one who held his kit. She was the one he watched. She fascinated him.
    Gryph ‘s first coherent thought after he concluded she was not an enemy was that he wanted her. Badly. A ravenous hunger was pouring through his veins. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced around a woman. It left him feeling disoriented, frustrated, and shaking with a strange tension.
    He forced himself to focus all his attention on regaining his control.
    Gryph moved carefully, levering himself up on one elbow. His eyes never left the woman who held his kit. He had been fighting his way up through the hazy, drugged fog inside his head for several minutes, listening half consciously to the voices of the five people in the chamber. Having the weapon kit taken from him had instantly jerked him back to full awareness.
    “Return the kit to me,” he ordered calmly. He held out his hand with a casual imperiousness he hoped would do the trick.
    But the woman actually clutched the leather pouch more tightly and took a quick step backward. She managed a surprisingly brilliant smile. Gryph decided that under normal circumstances he would probably find himself responding to that smile. But whatever had happened to him at the tavern was not normal.
    “I’m so glad you’re awake at last,” the woman said easily. She walked briskly back to her place at the table where the others sat stupefied by the small scene that had just taken place. As she sat down, she put Gryph’s weapon kit on the polished black stone in front of her. “I’m Sariana Dayne. I am the business manager for the others here with me tonight. They form the Prime Family of the Avylyn Clan. Well, most of the Prime Family. Luri isn’t with us. He’s a bit too young for this sort of thing.”
    “I think I’m a bit too old for this sort of thing,” Gryph said, feeling the need to stop her lightly tumbling words.
    He recognized her accent now. She was from the eastern continent. Had to be. That explained her recklessness regarding his weapon kit. Gryph forced himself to draw a deep, slow breath while he tried to sort out the various elements of the bizarre situation in which he found himself. It was difficult to think with a raging headache and a body that seemed far too heavy and awkward. At least he had the rush of lust back under control. At this point he was grateful for small favors.
    The woman’s smile became even more brilliant. “I’m sure you have a number of questions and you don’t look as if you’re feeling very well, but I assure you I can explain everything.”
    “An excellent idea.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
    It was an order, not a polite request, and he saw that Sariana understood that at once. The others appeared almost mesmerized with anxiety. That was good. Gryph was not unfamiliar with the response. It left him free to concentrate on Sariana. He had already decided that she was the most dangerous one in the group.
    Sariana cleared her throat with a small, discreet cough and managed to keep the smile in place. “We have a business proposition to put to you, Shield.”
    “My name is Chassyn,” he replied through set teeth. “Gryph Chassyn.” Sariana’s subtle air of feminine challenge set off immediate responses in his system. He did not like his present position in front of her. He needed a little more advantage. With great effort he rose from the cold marble floor, disgusted to find his legs were decidedly unsteady. It took nearly all his