For a moment jealousy surged that any male had touched her before him. She was his. His alone. And he’d kill anyone who tried to take her from him.
After he’d been introduced to everyone from the mayor of this ridiculous floating city right through to someone’s Aunt Kaayla’s second cousin’s sister’s neighbor who was on the board of something or other, he deftly pulled Marika away from the crowd as T’Raal stalked toward them.
Like the other “bodyguards,” he’d been outfitted in the same type of black suit Sparky and the others were wearing. Not bargain basement, but not the tailored number Skinny wore. The Warborne leader looked like a hissing deearin stuffed into a pillowcase.
“There’s fucking plants in there!” he hissed, jerking his head in the direction of the restroom, whose entrance was tastefully hidden behind a couple of columns. “And some male lurking. He offered me a square of fabric.”
Marika snorted as T’Raal held out the offending article.
“He’s the bathroom attendant,” she said in a low voice as Skinny did his best not to snigger. “That’s a towel. You’re supposed to dry your hands on it and leave it in the hamper.”
The others had crowded around now, Red, Beauty and Fin all with the same expressions of horror on their faces.
“Why is there a male handing out things?” Fin asked in a low voice. “What’s wrong with a cleanser unit?”
“That’s his job?” Marika shook her head at their amazement and took the towel from T’Raal to hand it to a circulating waiter. Instantly he snatched it back, shoving it in his inside pocket.
“Genetics,” he murmured at her curious look. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Edanians,” she chuckled. “You have some very odd ideas.”
Her attention was caught by a young woman across the other side of the room and she smiled. “Please, excuse me for a moment. That’s Anatalia Travecki. Her husband is one of my father’s competitors, and she has fingers in just about every pie there is. If anyone knows where my father is looking for my sister, she’ll know.”
Skinny nodded, his voice low. “Stay in line of sight. Don’t move to another location.”
“Why? Are you worried about me?” She smiled up at him teasingly, reaching out to straighten his lapel.
“You know it.” He growled as he pulled her closer, one hand spread possessively over the backs of her hips. Her lips parted on a gasp as she registered the state of his body. He’d shot to full mast as soon as she started to sass him, his cock hard and heavy as he ground it against her soft belly. Dropping a kiss against her temple, he sighed and let her go. “Come back soon.”
He smiled as he watched her walk away. Her curvy ass in that dress... before she’d gotten halfway to her friend, he became aware he wasn’t the only one looking. Sparky stood next to him, his arms folded as a low whistle left his lips.
“I suggest you find something else to ogle. Fast.” Skinny’s rumble was low and dangerous.
“Sorry, bud. She’s all yours.” Sparky lifted his hands in surrender.
“Tell me again why I have to put up with you as a bodyguard?”
“These. Puts the shits up this lot faster than a dodgy kipper.”
The human grinned and flexed his biceps, the sleeveless designs of their suits revealing the thick black ink around his upper arms. They were the marks of a wraith, someone who had survived the harshest death-max prison in the Terran systems. Life expectancy was ninety days... no one survived more than eighteen months, apart from the wraiths. Killers of killers, they were more feared among humans than even the Lathar.
“What the dra-fuck is a dodgy kipper? Do you ever speak standard Terran? Like, at all?”
“Not normally. Mostly I speak Queen’s English, mate. As only I can speak it. You should ’ear me French. Right panty-dropper,” he said, eyeing Red speculatively.
Skinny snorted. “That way leads to bruises.”
A shit-eating grin spread over Sparky’s face. “Fuck, I hope so.”
“You’re fucking crazy. Completely and utterly crazy.”
The human punched him in the arm. “Says the man who married the poison princess. Don’t blame you. I bet she’s a good fuc—”
Skinny snarled, fury exploding through him as he slammed the smaller male up against the wall with a feral growl. Silence fell in the room behind them as he glared down at the human.
“Don’t you ever call her that. Understand me?” he snarled, not caring that Sparky was going purple.
A cool hand lay on his shoulder. “Problem, boys?” Red asked, her voice calm with asides of “what the fuck?”
He let go, the human gasping for air on the floor at his feet.
“Nah... loverboy here just has it bad. Real bad.” He flopped on his back, grinning like a fool.
Red crouched down next to him. “What’s so funny?”
Sparky winked at her. “He just proved he’s tougher than a wraith. None of these assholes will dare fuck with him now.”
“The prodigal daughter returns.”
The familiar measured tones sent a chill up Marika’s spine as she stood for a moment in the middle of the crowded room, sipping from the champagne flute she’d snagged from a circulating waitress. Typical of her father to find her at the moment she was alone and unguarded.
She’d just begun to relax and enjoy herself. Well, as much as anyone could here. Altav had been right when he called them all snakes. This place was an utter pit of vipers. They’d eat each other in a heartbeat if it would give them an advantage.
But this was her stomping ground… her world, and she knew its little idiosyncrasies. Its rules. How to survive. How to win.
Coming here as she had, to the highlight of the social season, the starlight ball, had been a master stroke. She’d arrived in style, with a new husband and a bevy of heavies who couldn’t hide what they were if they’d been trying. Anyone with eyes in their face could see they were mercenaries, killers for hire, and Altav was the most dangerous among them. She hadn’t missed the little scene with him and the human wraith. It had been such a brilliant move that she wished she’d thought of it.
The whispers that had started as soon as they’d arrived had gone into overdrive now. She and her little group were the talk of the party now, something that had put Lady Amelia Fitzharrington’s nose right out of joint. Even now she was glaring at Marika over her champagne, and if looks were daggers, she’d been bleeding out her last right here on the floor.
However, Lady Amelia was swept right from her mind as soon as she heard her father’s voice behind her. For a moment she froze, her entire body tense to stop herself shaking. Hurt rolled through her along with the instinctive need to start apologizing. When her father had that tone in his voice, things were not going to go well for someone.
Lifting her chin, she shoved those reactions so far down she’d need mining equipment to find them and turned in a sweep of her skirts.
“Father!” she trilled, injecting a delighted note into her voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were inspecting our facilities at Ruthin.”
Rather than back away as the wariness humming through her system urged her to, she moved forward, going on her tiptoes to air kiss her father’s cheeks.