Lois Greiman Read Online Free PDF Page B

“You decide.” Her voice was quiet, eerily devoid of emotion.
    Poke laughed. “Cool as chilled wine, aren’t you, love.”
    She made no response, or perhaps her words were drowned in the tumultuous whirring of Will’s mind. What now? What would he have done in the past?
    “Your arm then,” Poke said. “Just above…” The kiss was audible. “There. Where the skin is as soft as a baby boy’s. Are you ready?”
    “Hell’s gates!” Gem hissed, and slapped Will’s face. It jarred his system like the splash of ice water. But he had to think. To survive. “Wake up.”
    “I say,” Poke crooned, “our Gem has become decidedly maternal. I shall count to three. One…”
    Maybe if he lunged for the door! But where was the door?
    “Two…”
    Were they armed? How many were there? And what of himself? Was he hero or villain or—
    “Thr—”
    Will snapped upright, grabbing Poke’s wrist. Pain shot like icy arrows through his chest, clogging his breathing, stopping his heart. But he didn’t let go. Couldn’t.
    Their gazes met and clashed. Poke’s eyes were large and limpid, his hair dark, his side whiskers curled. His lips were wide and bright, his face handsome enough to be pretty.
    “Good Christ.” His voice registered little surprise ashe held his slim cigar steady. “You were right again, Princess.”
    She didn’t respond, and Poke laughed. “I should have known you would not have risked your lovely flesh,” he said, but his gaze never left Will’s. “And, of course…” He smiled. “Neither would I. Welcome to our humble home, good sir.”
    Uncertainty boiled in Will’s mind. Had she been at risk? Was he? Who…But in that moment he flipped his gaze toward the woman who stood beside him and his thoughts froze. For she was a princess.
    Regally tall and as trim as a willow, she wore her hair pinned atop her head. Only a few flaxen tendrils wisped down to her squared shoulders, and her expression was as imperious as a queen’s, but it was her eyes that stopped his breath. They were blue, but not a hue that made one think of sunny days and posies. They were a silvery, haunting blue, wide and slanted, reminding him of an Oriental cat he’d once seen.
    “Fascinating, isn’t she?”
    It took several seconds for Poke’s words to saturate Will’s floundering senses. He pulled his gaze from the woman’s with a conscious effort and turned his scowl on her master.
    “It’s time,” Poke said, his expression affable, his tone the same.
    Will scowled, doing his best to marshal senses too long languishing in the dark. “Time?”
    “To loose my arm before I have Mr. Oxford here remove it for you.”
    William glanced at his own hand. It seemed strangely disembodied, as if it belonged to another, but he moved it, doing so slowly, buying time, assimilating facts. “Where am I?”
    “Where do you wish to be?”
    Memories flashed like fireflies through his mind, flittering and elusive. Music. Dancing. Emotion, hot as a poker. He had come here for a reason. What it was he couldn’t recall, and the swirling thoughts made his head pound like a Celtic war drum. But he dare not falter now.
    “I was looking for the Den,” he said.
    “The Den.” Poke sat back down, his hip settling against Will’s thigh again. The position seemed odd, stirring a host of uncomfortable feelings in Will’s gut, but he remained as he was. “And why would you wish to be there?”
    He was tempted to scan the faces of the people who surrounded him, to search for clues, but he kept his gaze steady on Poke. They were thieves. He was certain of that much. And thieves had…what? What had they done? Was he one of them? “I’m told they know talent there,” he said.
    Poke raised his heavy brows. He had a mole above the left corner of his lips. His skin was clear and very pale. “Talent?”
    “Aye,” Will said and his voice sounded casual, easy. Was that who he was then? A thief, accustomed to dealing with thieves?
    He let