I hung up and set the phone on the bedside table. The sound of running water filtered through the boat’s thin walls. Thorin taking a shower, probably. I pushed that provocative image out of my head and went to work applying my drug-store makeup and tending to my hair. It hung to the middle of my back, thick and straight, the color of chardonnay, or so my father said. Maybe Thorin didn’t have the patent on good hair, but from working in the kitchen over the years, I had developed a habit of always keeping mine tied up and out of the way. I brushed it out and pinned it back from my face with a plain gold clip—also bought at the drugstore.
I slipped into the dress, shoes, and jewelry. Then I tucked a few dollars and my silenced cell phone into the matching clutch purse the saleslady had thrown on the pile. I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, collecting my thoughts and my courage. My purse buzzed, and I pulled out the phone. It was Skyla again. I considered answering it, but feared Val might have wrestled her phone away from her after all, so I let it go.
Even in the boat’s cramped interior, I heard nothing from Thorin until the moment he knocked on my door. He had moved about, silent as a ghost. “Are you ready?” he asked through the door.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. “I guess so,” I said.
In an expertly tailored black jacket and slacks falling perfectly over polished shoes, Thorin struck me in the same way as a force of nature: the potential for great strength and destruction packaged as a thing of awesome beauty. Like a thunderstorm. Who is he? James Bond? Storing suits in multiple locations, just in case? I didn’t see him carry luggage onto the yacht, but then he may have packed the suit earlier, planning to attend this dinner some time ago. His decision to bring me along had probably been made on a whim.
Thorin returned my gaze, his normally solemn face now fierce, his dark eyes almost black. I shivered. “You don’t approve?” I asked.
Thorin blinked, and some of the harshness fell away. “You are radiant,” he said, his voice thick and husky. My heart sped to a quick pitter-patter. “But I am reminded of your fragility. Like a ray of sunlight, you are beautiful.”
“It sounds like a compliment,” I said, “but the tone of your voice and the look on your face say otherwise.”
Thorin nodded. “It’s also ephemeral, insubstantial, and so easily smothered.”
If Thorin meant his words to gouge me, they had the opposite effect. I’d thought he and I had found a rapport in our recent time together, but he proved me wrong. I made a mental note not to make assumptions about him again. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. “As if anyone could put out the sun.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “Big talk for a little girl.”
“Is there a particular reason you want to antagonize me?” I put a hand to my hip and raised a petulant brow. “Did I use up all the hot water so you had to take a cold shower and this is your revenge?”
Thorin’s hand slithered up my arm; he wrapped his fingers around my biceps. “Your bravado and flippancy won’t fool the people you meet tonight. I don’t tell you these things in an attempt to bruise your ego. I want you to appreciate that the danger you face is real. You must be aware, and it would behoove you to talk as little as possible.”
“Behoove?” I said. “Which century did you drag that up from?”
Thorin’s temper went blacker, and his grip on my arm tightened.
“You don’t have to warn me,” I said. “I assure you I am thoroughly freaked out, but if you’re acting this way because you’ve changed your mind about bringing me along, then say so. Your brute force won’t intimidate me. If you’re waiting for me to chicken out, then we’re going to be very late for dinner. I was a coward for most of my life. I have since gotten over it.”
“That was before certain new realities were presented to you,” he said.
I tugged my arm, and Thorin released it. I started to tell Thorin where he could shove his certain new realities, but thought better of testing his temper further. “I’m not running away,” I said. “If you’re afraid this is too dangerous for me, then you’d better do your best to keep me safe.”
My bold talk gave me the nerve I needed to get past Thorin, up the stairs, across Mjölnir’s deck, onto the dock, and into the marina parking lot before my knees began to knock. Thorin followed me and guided me toward a black town car waiting to whisk us to the hotel. The chauffeur held open the back door for me, but I didn’t dare say thank you for fear my teeth might clack and give me away.
When the car stopped in front of the hotel, Thorin reached across me and grabbed the door handle to prevent me from pushing it open. “You are my guest this evening,” he said. “You should allow me to treat you as such.”
“Your guest?” I gave him a disparaging look. “You could have fooled me.”
“It wasn’t my intention to scare you. Not away from me, anyway. I said I would protect you, and I meant it, but I need you not to underestimate anyone you meet tonight just because they’re dressed up in glitter and shine and hidden beneath the polished veneer of money and society. I still want you to be on your guard.”
I met Thorin’s gaze for the first time since we’d left the boat. Genuine concern showed on his face. I nodded. Thorin exhaled and nodded back. “And don’t open the door,” he said, pointing to the chauffeur outside his tinted window. “That’s what I pay him to do.”
Our driver popped the handle on Thorin’s side of the car and opened the door. Thorin exited then leaned in and held out a hand for me. I hesitated to take it. The air felt heavy between us. Portentous. Mani had laughed at me for using that word before, but nothing else fit. Normally I couldn’t predict when a touch would trigger a vision, but Thorin’s mood was so substantial it had taken on an almost physical presence. That kind of brooding didn’t develop without a foundation of strong thoughts and vivid impressions.
Here goes nothing.
I slid my fingers into Thorin’s waiting hand, and the moment I touched him, a flash of light exploded before my eyes. I reeled back. When my vision cleared, Thorin stood before me, but he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit in front of the Westmark Hotel. He stood on the edge of a dark forest in a misty field. Other figures had gathered around him, but the haze obscured the details of their faces. Violent emotions rolled off the congregation like steam from a boiling pot.
They directed their anger and loathing at an invisible enemy beyond the mist. In the distance, a dog bayed, and wolves howled. Hollow voices groaned and shrieked—horrible, monstrous utterances of death and pain and horror. Fury and bloodlust marred Thorin’s face. The vision gave me names for these foreign emotions with which I had no personal experience. The style of Thorin’s armor and attire suggested antiquity, a scene that had occurred a long time ago. Someone shouted in a language I did not understand. “Ríthum hestum hart út berum.”
The entire assembly, including Thorin, responded in unison, “Brugdnum sverdum, a braut héthan!” And then they charged.
I came to with Thorin shaking me; concern puckered his brow. He stopped when my eyes focused on him, but he held me, waiting for me to say something, do something, to show I was okay. “What does a braut héthan mean?” I asked.
Thorin let go of me so fast I fell back into the car. “Where did you hear that?”
“I-I just saw it,” I said and tried to bring back the memory before the details faded. “It was you, standing in a field at the edge of a dark forest. You were wearing armor. It was an army, and you were all preparing to fight.”
His eyes widened, and his mouth had popped open in an O of surprise. My vision had obviously upset him.
“Aleksander, is everything all right?” A sophisticated, feminine voice crept between us, and Thorin swallowed his distress. He tugged me out of the car and held me steady as I fought for balance on my ridiculous heels. Still holding my hand, he blanked his face and turned to the speaker, a striking woman reminiscent of Cruella de Vil, if Cruella were younger and a hell of a lot sexier. Tall and slim, but elegantly curved, she wore her dark hair long and sleek. A thick streak of white shot through from her right temple down to the tips.
“Helen,” Thorin said, “it’s nice to see you again.” Helen Locke stretched out a slim, manicured hand. Thorin dropped my hand and took hers, brought her fingers to his lips, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. Helen’s lids slit like a satisfied cat’s, and she stepped in closer to him. “Let me introduce you to someone.” Thorin motioned in my direction. “Helen, this is Solina Mundy.”
Helen turned to me, taking notice of me for the first time. “Oh, Alek, I didn’t know you had taken to playing with dolls.”
Cheap bait, I thought. I didn’t take it. Instead, I smiled and shoved my hand toward her. “Pleasure to meet you, Miz Locke.”
Helen took my hand, briefly squeezing my fingers before dropping them like a slimy, dead fish. She was a force of personality that struck like a physical blow. Inside, feral Solina reeled back, crouched low, and growled at her. Outside, polite Solina smiled and batted her eyelashes. Helen returned my greeting, but she frowned and narrowed her gaze. Her eyes matched the contrast of her hair—a sky-blue eye on the right to set off her white streak, and an ebony eye on the left, complementing the majority of her dark hair. Her features repelled and attracted at the same time.
“Be nice, Helen,” Thorin said, lacing my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Miss Mundy is an innocent.”
Helen Locke chuckled low in her throat, a cobra hissing before a strike. “You could have said the same about me a long time ago, couldn’t you, Alek? You knew me then, but no one stays innocent for long in our business, do they?”
Helen turned and strode toward the hotel entrance. A dark shadow of a man stepped out from the hotel doorway, offering his arm. Helen curled herself around him and purred.
“She’s something,” I said, careful to keep emotion from my voice. I didn’t want Thorin to know how much she disturbed me.
“Do you begin to understand the kinds of sharks we’re dealing with?”
I waggled my finger and shook my head. “Uh-uh. Wolves, remember? Let’s not go changing our metaphors in the middle of the game.”
Thorin grunted. “I want to hear more about whatever it was you saw, but now is not the time.” He gazed into my eyes, searching as if he hoped to see in them the things I saw in my mind. He blinked, shook his head, and led me into the hotel.
Chapter Nineteen
During the first hour, the cocktail hour, the attendees schmoozed while waiters poured drinks and passed trays of canapés. I eyed the dining room tables wistfully and coveted the cushioned chairs. Only a short while into the evening, and already the balls of my feet complained about bearing the brunt of my weight. Freaking high heels.
“Try not to fidget,” Thorin hissed in my ear.
I glared at him. If he disliked my display of discomfort now, wait until I kicked off my shoes and paraded to dinner in bare feet. Even though I liked girly accessories – and the shoes did do wonderful things for the shape of my legs – I spent the majority of my days wearing clogs that offered plenty of support. Backyard barbecues were more the custom in my little home town. I only dressed up for church, and my mother would have fainted if I showed up in anything over a two-inch heel.
A waiter came by and offered to get me a drink. Before I could reply, Thorin ordered for both of us—seltzer for me and a beer for him, something imported, by the sound of the name.
