Heartmate (2 page)

Only in the last few years, after he'd reestablished his GreatHouse and started his shop, plying his Flair for magegems instead of fighting, had he been able to live life with deliberate ease.

After tomorrow he would never again be alone. An exhilarating, but disturbing, thought.

His caff was cold. The pungent scent no longer wafted through the air. He looked around his home workroom. The large desk of gleaming reddwood stood in sharp contrast to the scarred workbenches. On the far wall, behind a protection spell, were his gems and precious metals. In the corner, hidden by deep shadows, was his walk-in vault. It was built large to accommodate a man of his size and magical ability. The vault held a smaller safe containing his most precious possessions, including the necklace. His HeartGift.

T'Ash rose and walked to the vault. After disarming the door with a routine spell Word, he went inside.

His HeartGift. An item created in three days after his last Passage, seventeen years before. It was the third and last Passage that gave mastery of psi powers—rather than just confirming the Flair, then releasing it. And it was the final Passage that indicated HeartMates. In the delirium of that Passage T'Ash's Flair had spiraled to bond with his HeartMate, though he'd never felt the link since.

He placed his palm on the safe and muttered an opening spell. He reached for the velvet case. The moment he touched it urgency swept through him, the HeartGift's power. He grabbed the case, slammed the safe shut, strode out, and armed the vault. He set the round-cornered box in the middle of his largest worktable, positioned in the sunlight.

T'Ash watched with disbelief as his hands trembled when he opened the box. Hands that had firmly swung a broadsword, hands that had steadily fixed tiny jewels in a tracery of delicate chains—still, his fingers shook.

Energy, power, magic streamed from the necklace, driving him back. He raised his hand and felt pulses from the piece. The sexual potency of a virile twenty-year-old man imbued the HeartGift; a man who had spent three days in an erotic delirium of a Passage that finally freed his psi power. T'Ash had focused all his creative, carnal energy on fashioning the necklace. Seventeen years had passed, and it still radiated.

Sexual tension washed through him and lodged, tingling his nerves, warming his muscles, pooling in his groin. He'd feel the pressure until he took his mate. The tautness was disconcerting, pleasure bordering on pain. Anticipation.

T'Ash sucked in a breath and looked at the necklace again. Now he saw only how it was fashioned. He frowned. The strands of silver, gold, and redgold wire weren't uniformly thin, but showed lumpy nodules in places. The gem mountings were often clumsy.

One side of his mouth quirked. When his hands hadn't wavered from sexual arousal, they'd shaken from exhaustion. He didn't remember eating or sleeping during the days he created the necklace—forging the metal, twisting the wire, setting the gems. The final jewel was a large roseamber pendant he'd spent septhours shaping. With the energy pouring through him, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had ended up in the shape of a phallus.

He'd made a heart.

Zanth, T'Ash's cat and Familiar, strolled in.
Fish again,
he projected telepathically to T'Ash. He carried his muscular fighter's body with grace. He'd attached himself to the child, Rand Ash, the first week in Downwind. The cat had announced he was Rand's Fam and demanded an Ash Family name. T'Ash's crate in the slum had been barely big enough for them both. Zanth had made the move into T'Ash Residence as if it were his due, though he looked every inch the Downwind tough. The cat was huge, two-thirds of a meter long. Irregular black blotches dominated his white fur.

A red tongue caught a stray bit of food from his whiskers.
You hear? Fish again! Oily. Me not like and don't want any more.

Zanth's comment grounded T'Ash. “I'll speak to the chef.”

Zanth went to the workbench and stared up at the necklace.
That thing. From long ago.
His pink nose wrinkled. He opened his muzzle and curled his tongue to use his sixth sense—a combination of smell-taste.
Don't like it. It's feral you. Too much you and not enough Me. Take it away.

“I'll take it with me to the shop tonight. I'm running the store. Majo, my manager, is on vacation for Discovery Day.”

“That's right.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” When he had his HeartMate. He could arrange a wedding on Discovery Day, then a long honeymoon. He grinned.

The gleam of a gem caught his eye and he looked again at the necklace and
saw
it, beyond its inherent power and the skill that fashioned it. He saw the style and the color of the gems. In that moment he knew who the woman was. His mate.

He had never seen her, but he knew of her. Majo had told him how often she visited the store.
Today you will meet your HeartMate.
Not today, but tonight. For the first time in several years he had to man his exclusive shop in CityCenter.

In the last few months he'd been playing a subtle game from a distance with an unseen customer, teasing her with his creations. She'd buy the charming and the whimsical, and preferred roseamber and redgold. All the jewelry she'd purchased had been at the least expensive end of his line. The pieces had also been some of his most original—and sensual.

He wished he knew her name.

From his pocket he pulled a long silver chain set with oddly shaped beads, and slid it through his fingers. It was designed to suspend a personal amulet. Some of the beads were round, some stone nuggets, and some faceted crystal. A simple piece with a small price, yet it was significantly superior in craftsmanship to the HeartGift.

Zanth hopped up on the worktable and swatted the chain.

T'Ash obligingly swung it. “The necklace is my gift to a mate, radiating my essence, and will draw her to me. We will have a woman living with us tomorrow. What do you say to that?”

Zanth looked past the swinging chain and narrowed his jade-green eyes at the necklace.
Mate prefer mouse.
He turned his back on the HeartGift. Snagging a claw in the chain, he brought it to his mouth.
This female. You play with her. Give toys.

“Yes, I make her jewelry.” T'Ash dropped the end of the chain. It rattled to the desk.

Zanth tangled his paws in the chain and glanced sideways at T'Ash.
This bauble was for her. She not take it.

T'Ash shrugged. That he couldn't consistently predict her taste intrigued him. Several pieces that he'd made especially to tempt her had been bought by others, or remained unsold—so Majo said.

T'Ash had not asked her name. Instead it had been an increasingly enchanting game.

A game once, but not now. She'd visit the shop tonight. He knew it by his sharpened senses and the deep expectation humming in his bones.

Zanth snuffled. He'd picked up a sinus infection prowling the alleys of Downwind that T'Ash had been unable to treat. Zanth was not amenable to nosedrops in each nostril three times a day.
Female.
He looked at the necklace.
Female's scent improve it.

T'Ash winced at his cat's blunt remark.

Females are soft laps. Will accept one in My domain. Provis-ion-al-ly.
With that, Zanth gathered some of the beaded chain in his mouth and hopped from the table. The chain skittered on the floor as he turned and exited, tail high.

T'Ash didn't care to dwell on the thought of soft laps. He glanced at the HeartGift one more time and left it on his workbench. He needed more caff.

The power from the necklace swirled around him. He felt it, and so would she, the passion that heralded a lifelong love, the deep yearning for one special person. The necklace would attract and affect only her. The vital sexuality as well as his basic nature portrayed in his HeartGift would snare her, and he would take her home. Simple. Easy.

He had built a new Residence, a luxurious palace, after his final act of vengeance. Now he would have someone to share the echoing rooms with—a woman, a wife, a HeartMate.

A fierce smile curved his mouth. Having a mate would be satisfying, as satisfying as the orderly life he'd so carefully crafted after long struggle.

With a sweep of his hand, he gathered the dice on his desk. Two bounced and fell to the floor, one cracking. He bent and his fingers stilled.
Blaser rays surround a vulnerable woman.
He picked up the die showing the woman.

It fell to pieces.

A woman in danger.

His heart pounded like a hammer on an anvil. His Divination set, ruined. His lady, threatened. He'd put the violence—and the man he'd become seeking vengeance—behind him, but now his lady was endangered.

 
Danith Mallow sidled to a corner of the elegant shop
T'Ash's Phoenix. Here a table draped in beige damask held a lovely china caff set. After selecting a mug, she picked up the t'pot, keeping an eye on the man behind the U-shaped counter. She was accustomed to the friendly Majo, the slight salesman who usually staffed the store.

This man—it wasn't just that he wore black, both shirt and trous, or that he had long midnight hair. Or that he was so big.

He stared at her.

His sky-crystal blue eyes looked shockingly light under his heavy brows and against his olive skin. Eyes as potent as blaser rays. His very presence was a dark, intense force in the bright, jewel-glittering shop.

Her smile faded. The man was too dark. Too solid. Too brooding. And she was alone with him.

Her eyes widened as she saw his sleeve cuffs—ash brown with embroidered green ash tree leaves. T'Ash himself!

She set down the hot t'pot before a stream of golden liquid wavered from her half-full mug.

She liked his designs. She could even afford the simple ones, but she'd never expected the mage-crafter to be so intimidating. Who'd expect a jeweler to look like an outlaw?

Glancing up from mixing her tea and sweet, she saw he still stared at her. He dipped his head, then turned to look pointedly at a necklace displayed on a black velvet easel sitting on the long part of the counter opposite the door. When his scrutiny returned to her, she shivered at the power, then lifted her chin.

Again his gaze touched the necklace and moved back to her. “Perhaps you would be interested in the necklace.” His voice sounded as dark as the rest of him, with a rasp that should have roused fear, but somehow seemed to stroke her skin.

“No, thank you.” She held her warm mug of tea, both as a prop and a comforting drink.

He scowled. A spark of anger flared in his eyes. Who'd expect the man to be so sensitive about his work?

His eyes narrowed. He angled the display stand facing the door directly toward her. With one large finger he delicately traced the stones of the necklace, touched the roseamber heart. A tingle ran up her spine.

“You'd like the necklace.” The undertone in his voice was darker still, tempting, almost decadent.

“No,” she lied. She'd seen the piece the moment she entered. Well,
seen
wasn't quite the right word.
Felt, been drawn to,
or even
enchanted by
were more apt. As with all of his jewelry, something about it satisfied her on several levels. But she knew at a glance that the value of the stones alone put it far beyond her modest budget. Why, the roseamber heart itself was a good four centimeters. She blinked and leaned forward for a better view. In the center of the gem glowed a golden flaw in a shape she couldn't quite make out.

“Come look.”

“No, thank you.” Danith couldn't afford the thing, and if she saw it close enough to really desire it, she sensed it would haunt her when she left. There were many things beyond her grasp in life, and this was simply one more. Besides, the necklace was only a few handspans from the man.

“Come. Look.” He didn't coax now. He demanded.

“No.”

T'Ash made her uncomfortable, his aura and his rank. Sooner or later she might succumb to the pull of the necklace, or curiosity, or his intent stare, and find herself trying on the piece. She didn't need one more unattainable thing in her life, one more lost dream.

She slid her gaze to T'Ash. He continued to stare at her. She made a show of glancing at her timer, set her tea down, and sent him a false smile. “Sorry, I must go.” She headed for the door. A hum sounded. She pulled on the knob and nothing happened.

Whirling around, she glared at him. Her heart thumped with a mixture of wariness and anger. She chose to show the anger. “You locked the door. Open it, now.”

He smiled. The flash of his white teeth didn't lighten his face. “Promise to look at the necklace.”

“You GreatLords think you can flout the rules of conduct—”

A dark cloud seemed to coalesce around him. The atmosphere in the shop dimmed and grew thick. For the first time, Danith felt alarmed. She groped for the red fire-pull behind her.

“Don't.” He made the word soft and persuasive. “Please, GentleLady—”

“Miz,” she snapped. “Simply, miz.”

“Stay. Look at the necklace.”

“Open the door.”

With each moment the silence between them changed from strained to something quite different. The intensity of his blue-silver gaze mesmerized her. His evident power, not only magical but his essential male vitality, enveloped her.

And it wasn't menacing, but sheltering. It quieted her breathing, calmed her fears, and impressed an elemental fact upon her.
He would never harm her.
Even so, she didn't feel quite safe.