Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [65]
I cast my mind back to the morning, groaning to myself. ‘‘Cyrene called me Mayling.’’
‘‘Right out in the open, where anyone could hear,’’ he said with cheerful agreement. ‘‘Once I got over the shock of hearing her say the name of Mei Ling, I did a little bit of investigating, and found out that the woman with the loose lips was twin to one May Northcott. Two and two and two . . . well, they make six, May.’’
I shook my head, disgusted with myself for being so distracted by Gabriel that I hadn’t been aware of Savian. ‘‘And you simply followed us to London, and then later on, tracked me down at the warehouse. I can’t believe I didn’t see you.’’
‘‘I’m very good at following people,’’ he said with no pretense of modesty. ‘‘It’s my specialty, if the truth be known.’’
I digested all of that on the flight to Paris, ignoring his further attempts at conversation, preferring to dwell in the horrible inky pit of despair that wrapped me firmly in its embrace.
‘‘Don’t think that there’s any chance you’re going to get away from me,’’ Savian said as we deplaned at Orly Airport.
He waited until everyone else had left the plane but the flight attendants, all of whom watched me with interested eyes. I had no idea what story he’d concocted to tell them; to be honest, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away to somewhere dark, somewhere I could make my escape.
‘‘Do you know, I’m almost sorry I caught you,’’ he continued in a conversational voice as we walked up the long ramp to the concourse. ‘‘It’s been rather exciting trying to keep up with you. Are you really mated to the silver wyvern?’’
I stopped to give him an astonished look.
‘‘Word gets around fast,’’ he explained, giving me a little push to get me going again.
‘‘You are a very strange man,’’ I told him, thrown off guard by his entire demeanor. I expected the thief takers to be harsh, ugly little men with no souls and less humanity. But Savian was . . . well, charming. And handsome. And judging by the glint in his eye, probably also quite the ladies’ man.
‘‘I’ve been told that. I consider it a compliment, actually. Wouldn’t want life to become boring and staid, now, would we?’’ he asked, gesturing me toward a room marked with a private notice. I entered the small room, most likely used for interviews of suspicious people by customs officials, and tipped my head as I watched Savian gesture to someone at a desk. He came into the room, closing the door behind him. ‘‘Won’t be but a minute, and we’ll be through customs. I expect you’re anxious to be through all this, hmm?’’
‘‘I don’t suppose you’re open to bribes?’’ I asked, ignoring the charm he was so clearly trying to wield upon me.
That took him by surprise for a few seconds. ‘‘What did you have in mind?’’
I ran a mental accounting of my checkbook, disregarding both it and my credit cards—Magoth didn’t mind paying my travel expenses when necessary, but he certainly didn’t pay well for the rest of my services—then musing for a few moments on the amulet, which was tucked away under my left breast in the inner pocket of my leather bodice, but I dismissed the thought almost immediately. I hadn’t been strafed by lasers and given myself a concussion just to hand over the amulet to the first thief taker who managed to grab me.
Which left only one thing I had with which to barter my freedom. I toyed with the leather laces of my bodice. ‘‘What about me?’’
His eyes opened wide at that, his gaze turning calculating as he examined me thoroughly from my toes to my crown. ‘‘What would your wyvern say to that offer?’’
I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat at the thought of having sex with Savian. ‘‘This has nothing to do with him. It’s between you and me.’’
‘‘Indeed it is,’’ he said, taking a couple of steps closer to me. I forced myself to stand where I was, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.
‘‘You’re positively rank, woman. You reek of things I don’t really