Ozigeor nods.
“Not a word about Finley, her twin, or the feather,” he reiterates.
“Of course,” Ozigeor says solicitously.
“If I find differently… just imagine…. your head and balls on my dining room table.”
The sorcerer swallows hard and says, “I promise I won’t say a word.”
Carrick and I leave the club, and once we get in the car he’d hired, I ask, “Do you think he’ll keep his word and stay quiet?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I really don’t care if Kymaris finds out we’re asking about the changeling ritual, but it was a risk letting Ozigeor know about your feather and you having a twin. That was sort of our ace-in-the-hole surprise.”
“I’m pretty sure your threat about his head and balls will keep him quiet,” I reply with a laugh, then I turn in my seat to look at Carrick. “Would you really do that? Keep someone’s body parts on your dining room table?”
The look he gives me tells me he thinks I’m ridiculous and he doesn’t even entertain my question with an answer. We both know he wouldn’t be that crass, but he would kill Ozigeor in a heartbeat.
We ride silently to the hotel, and Carrick holds my hand the entire way up in the elevator. As we enter the suite, I yawn, the stress of that meeting starting to press down on me. But we learned some valuable information.
Carrick closes the door and starts to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. His expression is grim.
“What is it?” I ask as we both walk toward the bedroom.
“We need to go see Nimeyah,” he says, his eyes clearly expressing just how distasteful he finds it.
“No,” I say as I sit on the edge of the bed to undo the buckles of my ankle straps. “We need to figure out how to get my sister out of the Underworld.”
“Agreed,” Carrick says, and I lift my head briefly to smile.
He walks toward me, the cuffs of his sleeves forgotten, and drops to one knee before me. My heart doesn’t start racing because I think a proposal is coming, but rather because he picks up my foot and takes over unbuckling the straps.
“I think Nimeyah might be able to give us insight as to why Kymaris is coming to the human world and what her plan may be. She might even know a way we can save your sister.”
He removes one heel, tosses it to the side, and then works on the other.
“Why would she know anything about Kymaris?” I ask curiously, even as hope flares within my chest that she might.
Carrick’s hands move to my calves, where he smooths them up to my knees before stopping there. My breath shortens at just that slight touch. “Because she knows Kymaris very well. They’re sisters.”
“What?” I exclaim, batting his hands from my legs. “Why am I just now learning this? You didn’t think that was important to tell me?”
“Not until now,” he replies nonchalantly, his hands coming back to my knees with a grip that won’t be dislodged again.
“You should have told me,” I pout, but I think most of my pique is because we have to go back to Faere, and I hate that place.
“Finley,” Carrick says, his voice rough, and I note with some slight thrill that his eyes are starting to glow. His hands push on my legs, spreading them slightly. He slides his palms up my thighs, his thumbs snagging the silk of my dress and pushing it up. “If I told you all the possible relevant knowledge I have in my head, we’d never have time for things such as this.”
My heart is hammering as he leans in toward me. “Things such as what?” I whisper because I have no more than that in my breath to give.
He pushes my legs a little wider, exposing the fact I have no underwear on, and his eyes travel down. I get hot all over as he stares between my legs and, gods help me, licks his lower lip.
Looking back up to me, he orders, “Lay down… and hang on. I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
I don’t hesitate in obeying, and I forget all about Kymaris, going to Faere, and Nimeyah. I forget about everything except Carrick.
CHAPTER 17
Finley
I can’t tell if I’m in a dream or not. I think not because I can make free-will choices where I want to go. The scenery is vivid, making it all the more frightening because I think I’m in the Underworld.
So far, it’s been a lot of walking through a maze of caves seemingly cut through sparkling black onyx. Crude wooden sconces are attached to the walls with fire inside them lighting the way. The surface beneath my bare feet is cold packed dirt, but there are no rocks or pebbles to cut or cause me pain. I’m in the same pajamas I wore before I fell asleep last night in Carrick’s bed, and my feather itches a little.