“Three hours of flight at an average pace, ninety minutes if you push yourself,” Jason said. “It’s a large estate, enough that no one will be able to come upon you without running afoul of the security system but not so isolated that you need ever be alone should you wish for company.”
It sounded perfect, but she had expected no less from the best spymaster in the Cadre, the man who knew people better than they knew themselves. But, did Jason know himself? Lips curving, she crossed the distance to him, put her hands against his chest, unsure of herself and of him in this new place, but unwilling to surrender the claim she’d made.
His arm came around her without hesitation, his fingers splaying on her lower back. “Do you wish to see the house?”
“Yes.” It felt so good to be near him again. “I am falling ever further in debt to you.”
“This is no debt, Mahiya.” His hand moved in a gentle circle on her back. “Not between us.”
Her heart kicked, and she wanted to snatch at his words, force him to explain himself, but such demands would never work with this man. “No,” she said, “you must allow me to repay you in some way until I have the funds to clear the loan.” She pushed off his chest just enough that she could look up into his face. “My home will be yours, so long as you wish it to be.”
A flicker in his eyes, but his response was a quiet incline of his head, an acceptance.
The wickedness in her, born of the same will that had kept her personality her own all these years, stretched awake after a lifetime of restraint. “Since I will not have enough money to repay any loan for years, perhaps I’ll beg your indulgence with sensual favors.”
Darkness shadowing his face, his hand falling away to leave her bereft. “I would not ask such of you.”
Laughing, she cupped his face. “Jason, I’m teasing you.” She had never initiated a kiss, but encouraged by the way he’d returned her touch, she did so now, sipping and tasting at those firm, beautiful lips until he held her again. “Any sensuality I share with you is freely given, and always will be.”
He pressed her closer to his body with the hand he had on her lower back, his free hand rising to angle her chin exactly as he liked, and then he took control of the kiss, stroking his tongue against her own in a caress that made her toes curl, the black fire of him a dark, beautiful thing. You should not tease me so, Mahiya.
Someone must. Heart racing at the sinful perfection of him, she tucked her feet between his boots in an effort to get closer and asked a question she felt too shy to do so out loud. Is the estate isolated enough that we can dance?
A fine, fine tremor slivered through Jason’s powerful frame. No. But I know a place that is.
Good. Because she wanted to dance with her spymaster, the sensual erotic dance of angelic lovers that was part courtship, part a test of strength and skill, and—if done right—all pleasure. Never before had she trusted anyone enough to share herself in that way. I cannot wait to tangle wings with you, Jason.
Breaking the kiss, a hint of color on his cheekbones, Jason said, “I’ve created accounts in your name and transferred the funds you’ll need to get on your feet.” His tone was stripped of tenderness . . . but he continued to press her against him, his wings curved in protective display around her until all she saw was lush black. “The debt isn’t due until you feel able to repay it, at an interest rate of zero percent.”
“Jason!” Laughing, she fisted her hands against his chest. “That is the most terrible loan I ever heard of—you will lose on every account.”
Jason’s expression was solemn. “No, I won’t. Because so long as you owe me a debt, I will have a home.”
Everything in her went quiet, even her pulse, time itself standing still. “Then,” she whispered in a voice raw with love, “it is a debt I will never repay.”
Before he’d spoken, before she’d understood the depth of his need, she would’ve insisted on repaying the loan to the last cent as a sign of her independence. Now she knew this wasn’t about money or about controlling her. Jason had had centuries to accumulate wealth. It meant little to him beyond the practical.
But a home?
That, he hadn’t had since he buried his mother. Neither had she, the fort no safe haven for her. So she grasped what it meant to him to have a home, understood, too, that he needed the unambiguous link created by the debt.
One day, she thought, he wouldn’t need that tie any longer, would come to accept he would always be welcome in the place that was their home. Then they’d laugh over her long overdue debt, and perhaps she would tease her black-winged angel about having allowed a wet-behind-the-ears princess to tie him to such a terrible deal.
Until then, she would just love him. “Let’s go home.”
45
The estate Jason took her to was a vast sprawl of greenery broken up by wild bursts of color, the house of gray stone set within a multitude of gardens that had been allowed to run wild, the caretakers having far too much to do to wrangle the plants.
“Oh!” Delighted, she touched her fingers to a dew-kissed amber rose flowering defiantly without regard to season. “This is wonderful!” Already, she could begin to imagine their new life here. “Oh, Jason, the house is perfect.” No massive palace or mansion, just a dual-storied building meant to be a home, the stones warm in the lazy late-afternoon sunshine.
The caretakers’ residence, created of the same lovely stone, sat at a right angle to the house. “I must see everything!”