Master Foltham’s fingers quickened, moving with surprising dexterity despite their size. Nostrus had seen a few such signs of agitation in his employer since the incident, but Master Foltham had remained largely silent on the matter until now.
“Such distractions and their eventual resolutions would be quite costly,” Master Foltham continued, “and though the money itself is not an issue, well… There’s something far more important at risk here, isn’t there? It’s a matter of principle. This azhera came into my home as an honored guest and betrayed my trust.”
Master Foltham’s normally calm demeanor crumbled with each word; Nostrus didn’t need to push any more. MurgenFoltham was already tumbling down a hill, gaining speed, and would not stop until he was fully submerged in the vengeful waters below.
“He stole from me,” Master Foltham shouted, slamming his hand atop his desk. He shoved himself to his feet. “No one steals from Murgen Foltham, damn it. No one threatens me, no one gets away with trying to intimidate me, no one gets to disrespect me, especially not in my own house! This azhera is barely a step above bottom-feeding vermin on the evolutionary chain, and it’s time he learned his place.”
His jowls wobbled with his angry, impassioned words. As much as those transgressions against Master Foltham were marks against Nostrus, the volturian held a more personal score—the brief but agonizing twinges in his hand even now wouldn’t let him forget it.
“I will have what is mine returned to me, Nostrus,” Master Foltham said, brandishing his finger as though it were a terrifying, deadly weapon. “I’ll not accept this loss. I won’t let a meddlesome animal disrupt my plans.”
Nostrus stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and bowed. “Master Foltham, allow me the opportunity to right these wrongs. Allow me this chance to restore honor to my father’s name.”
Master Foltham jabbed a finger toward Nostrus. “Honor! Yes, honor, and respect! We must—” His eyes widened, but the rest of his expression slackened. He dropped into his chair with a heavy thump. “We must keep honor and respect in mind as we proceed.”
“Sir, I will handle the matter personally.”
Master Foltham waved his hand, eyes unfocused. “No, my boy, you won’t.”
Those words sparked an unsettling fire in Nostrus’s heart—and pierced it with shards of ice atthe same time. “Sir?”
“I’ve no doubt as to your ability, Nostrus, but you are openly connected to me—and that connection is quite public.” Master Foltham’s tone was sober now, but not defeated; it still held that note of cold calculation. “We cannot risk any of this being tied to you, because that would naturally come back on me, and then we’d be in the very situation we’re seeking to avoid.”
None of Nostrus’s considerable respect or loyalty for Master Foltham could combat his deep, roiling frustration in that moment. He maintained his bowed position, keeping his face downturned to hide his clenched jaw and slanted eyebrows from his employer’s view. Fresh heat pulsed along hisqal.
“Sir, I know how to operate covertly,” Nostrus grated through his teeth. “It will never come back on you.”
“It’s an unnecessary risk all the same, Nostrus.” Master Foltham brought up a holoscreen over his desk and opened his contacts list. “It takes a particular skillset to hunt beasts like this azhera, a mindset that advanced beings like you and I are simply too sophisticated to comprehend. We need to call upon someone closer to his level. You may assist in coordination, but you will have no direct role in this matter, not until my terran and that thieving azhera are securely in our custody. Is that clear?”
Clenching his fists at his sides, Nostrus lifted his gaze to meet Master Foltham’s. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You may go begin the preparations to receive Gau’cil the day after next.” Master Foltham waved his fingers. “I’ll begin orchestrating the hunt for our little fugitives.”
Fortunately, Nostrus managed to catch his tongue between his teeth before he could say anything in response. This had gone far better than he could’ve expected, and it was best not to push his luck. He’d press the matter of personally hunting theazhera another time. With a final nod, he turned and exited Master Foltham’s study.
A piercing ache radiated from the center of his hand outward to his fingertips; it felt like a metal spike was being hammered through his bones. He assured himself that he wasn’t giving up—he would reclaim his lost honor, or he would die trying.
EIGHT
The scent of leather and cloves filled Shay’s senses as she slowly roused. She inhaled deeply, drawing more of that delicious aroma into her lungs. It brought a sense of peace, a sense of comfort, and sparked a heat that spread through her body and pooled low in her belly. She shifted on her pallet and moaned as her shirt rasped across her tight, sensitive nipples, which sent another pulse to her already throbbing sex.
Her eyelids fluttered open to darkness as total as it had been while her eyes were closed. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, didn’t know how close she was to her alarm going off, and she didn’t care. Her body was ablaze, aching in a way it hadn’t in months. Had she been dreaming? If so, she couldn’t recall those dreams, but they’d clearly sent the right signals to the right places. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this aroused.
She hadn’t had sex in at least five months. Between getting kidnapped by aliens, being sold as a pet and kept in a cell, and recently working herself to exhaustion, she hadn’t given sex athought. But a little self-indulgence, a little pleasure, couldn’t hurt, could it?
Rolling onto her back, Shay closed her eyes again. She ignored her uncomfortable bedding and focused on the sensations as she slowly trailed the fingertips of her right hand down her chest, over the swells of her breasts, which had grown fuller and more sensitive during her pregnancy, and pinched her nipple through her shirt. Her breath hitched at the pleasure that arced through her. Her pussy clenched, aching to be touched, to be relieved, so tightly that it was almost painful.
In the past, Shay would’ve taken her time, would’ve prolonged the act as much as possible. But there was no need now. Her body demanded release.
Moving her hand farther down, she slipped it beneath the waistband of her underwear, spread her thighs, and eased her fingers between the folds of her sex. The slightest brush against her engorged clit made her gasp with a blast of pleasure. She arched her back and turned her face to the side, grasping the jacket beside her and pulling it close to her nose.
For a moment, she held perfectly still, letting the sensation ease. When she took in a shuddering inhalation, her senses were again overwhelmed with that leather and clove scent.
Her pussy was slick, and her panties were soaked with her need. Biting her bottom lip, Shay stroked her clit again, moving her fingers in gentle, circular motions. Her hips rocked of their own accord as the euphoric sensations heightened. Her panting breaths escalated in volume.
She imagined another hand—a much larger, rougher hand, its fingers tipped with deadly claws but its touch confident and gentle. A hand connected to a muscled, fur-covered arm that belonged to a vibrant green-eyed azhera.
“Drakkal,” Shay cried out as she came, body seizing. Her pussy clenched around nothing, and her thighssnapped together, locking her hand in place as the sensations became too much for her to stand. Liquid heat flooded her. She pressed the jacket to her face and muffled her cries, unwilling to let the neighbors hear her release.