The Invisible Ring

ended and Lia was safely home, his strength, his maleness, belonged to her.
    Sighing, Jared settled down and closed his eyes.
    My father would say you haven’t grown into your skin yet.
    He’d barely had time to get used to the feel of his Red strength when he’d been tricked into slavery. So maybe Blaed’s father was right about that. And if that was true . . .
    Had being enslaved somehow frozen him in that transition between youth and man? If he’d remained in Ranon’s Wood, would he have eased into the more aggressive nature of an adult Red-Jeweled male, the change happening slowly so that what he felt inside was just more instead of other ?
    Jared opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling above him.
    Other . Like the wild stranger. The part of himself that had been suppressed for nine years, until rage had let it burst free. The adult Warlord who kept pushing at him to embrace it, accept it.
    He would have to embrace it, would have to accept it, no matter how much he feared it. He needed that strength and aggression if he was going to keep Lia safe.
    Two nights from now, the full moon after the autumn equinox would rise. For a Shalador male, it was the night of the dance.
    And the dance would be the right time to call the Warlord back to himself.

    Chapter Twelve

    Settled into one of the dainty chairs that were scattered around her sitting room, Dorothea SaDiablo sipped her morning coffee while she studied her Master of the Guard. She had one leg tucked under her, which made her red-silk dressing gown split enticingly high. Her hair flowed over her shoulders, creating a sleek, black frame for her half-bared breasts. She looked more like a whore in the most expensive Red Moon house than a High Priestess.
    Then again, Krelis thought, all women were whores. Some were just honest about it.
    “Have you any news?” Dorothea asked, setting her cup on the low table in front of her. She picked up a warm breakfast pastry shaped like a crescent, broke it in half, then delicately licked the torn edge. And all the time, she watched him.
    It took effort not to shift his weight from foot to foot, but he reminded himself that he was no longer a Third Circle guard who didn’t understand the dangers of accepting an aristo witch’s sexual lures.
    “Well?” Dorothea put .the half crescent in her mouth, closed her lips around it, pulled it out again. Slowly. While she watched him.
    Krelis had to clear his throat before he found his voice. “No, Priestess, I have no news. But even riding the Winds, it takes time to reach Hayll,” he added quickly.
    “Of course,” Dorothea purred. “I’m simply concerned that the more time it takes to complete this little task, the more chances she’ll have to slip away.”
    He understood the threat beneath the pleasantly spoken words. “She won’t escape, Priestess. I swear it on my life.”
    Dorothea smiled brilliantly. “I’m sure you do.”
    Krelis’s legs turned to jelly. Before he could think of some way to respond, the door between the bedroom and sitting room opened.
    The Warlord toy-boy didn’t look sulky or defiant this morning. And he didn’t have the sated look of a man who had spent a hot night in bed. He looked haunted, numb, as if he’d passed beyond fear sometime in the early hours and was only beginning to feel the tingle of reawakened emotions. The hunger in his eyes was focused on the coffeepot and basket of pastries, not on the barely dressed woman.
    Krelis watched Dorothea’s expression change. She reminded him of a satisfied cat who had just remembered the mouse beneath her paw.
    “It’s still early, darling,” Dorothea purred. “Go back to bed.”
    Flinching, the Warlord obeyed.
    After tossing the half crescent back into the basket, Dorothea raised her arms and stretched luxuriously. “There’s nothing quite like staying in bed on a rainy morning, don’t you think?”
    For a moment, just a moment, Krelis pictured the three of them tangled in satin sheets and wasn’t sure if he felt revolted or aroused. Then common sense—and a healthy dose of fear—grounded him. Hoping she’d overlook his hesitation, he tried to smile. “It’s a necessary indulgence for Ladies. Unfortunately, the mundane tasks we males perform don’t disappear in rainy weather.”
    “And I’ve kept you from your tasks long enough,” Dorothea said with a knowing smile. “I imagine your mother enjoys rainy mornings.”
    The verbal knife slipped past all his defenses and left him bleeding. “I imagine so,