The Dream Thief, Kari Kilgore [reading well TXT] 📗

I seem to remember what you consider fun going on for a long damned time."

He laughed again and caught a handful of Loretta's hair, pulling just enough to let her know he could pull harder.

"You flatter me, my dear," he said. "My skills have only increased in the time that's gone by. And nothing motivates me more than a juicy secret. Unless a juicy woman is the one to share it."

That huge hand slid from her hair, to her cheek, along her neck, to her exposed cleavage. His fingers slipped under the top of her corset, and Loretta didn't dare move away when they caught her skin in the tight fit. His rough fingertips were like sand across her flesh, but he didn't pinch. Not yet.

The danger between them had always been a huge part of the fierce attraction. Loretta never forgot how easily that danger could get out of hand, even when she was in her own safest place.

"Now," he said, his voice far smoother than his appearance. "I don't normally listen to the useless chatter of the other pilots who look to me for protection, much less the weakling shopkeepers they supply. As long as they pay me their due, I could not possibly care less what squabbles they get up to among themselves."

The hand on Loretta's breast, squeezing her flesh under the steel and bones of the corset, started to pull. Ever so slightly, but steady enough to let her know he wasn’t going to stop. She moved, staying within arm's reach of her headboard.

"Lately, though," he said, "I've been hearing a complaint often enough that it's been annoying me to no end. I've found the only way to stop a complaint like that, to get the lazy buggars to shut the hell up, is to get to the bottom of it. That brings me to you, darlin'."

"What could I possibly have to do with shaw pilots?" Loretta said. "My feet haven't left the ground since you dropped me off here years ago."

"Well, that's what piqued my curiosity, you might say. Seems a few of the merchants have been getting requests they simply can't fill. Requests of a more distasteful nature, at least to the delicate sensibilities of my fellow pilots. Turns out not much is too distasteful for the residents of your fair community."

Rhysto reached down and drew one of his smaller blades, solid black with copper wire wrapped around the handle. That hand went behind her back while the other slid under the top of Loretta's corset again.

"Once an appetite for that sort of thing gets started," he said, "seems folks will go to any ends necessary to get what they're after. And that, my dear Loretta, is what brings me to you." He was looking into her eyes, but she felt the knife moving along the curve of her shoulders, touching light as a feather. "Much as it would pain you to admit it, you and I have more in common than not. Both of us will do what it takes to survive. Am I right?"

Loretta stared into his cold black eyes until she felt that knife, somehow cold instead of warmed by his flesh, pushing a bit harder against the bones in her spine. He hadn't drawn blood, but the promise had been made.

"Yes, Rhysto. We're more alike than I care to admit. I'll do what it takes to survive."

He smiled, showing his surprisingly white, even teeth. She remembered those, too. Just as with his belt, many of her memories were inappropriate, and pleasant.

"So glad to hear it!" he said. "I wondered to myself, who would be willing to supply such fine citizens with their unpleasant items, creepy curios, if you will, for a very fine price?" The knife lay flat against the flesh of her upper back for a moment. "And only one person came to mind."

She heard a whispery cut, and for a moment she thought he was cutting her hair. After another soft slice, she realized he was cutting through the ribbon holding her corset tight. Once he took that off, she'd lose her own blade hidden there, but she'd be able to breathe and move much more freely. She was hardly defenseless even without her weapons.

"So I did a little asking around over the past few days," he said. "Very discretely, of course. Turns out I was right. Tell me, darlin'. Exactly where do you find the ghastly things you peddle? Who brings you these little treasures?"

Loretta forced herself not to smile. That was it, the angle he was after. And the angle she needed to control him. Rhysto didn't want her working with shaw pilots who weren't afraid enough to pay for his protection. Her wariness turned to deep, hot anticipation.

"I'm not working with scab pilots, or any of the independents," she said. "If that's what you're thinking, put your mind at rest. Most of them come from right here, hidden away in someone's attic or basement or other cozy hiding place. You'd be surprised what our forbearers did to amuse themselves, Rhysto. They made these little collections seem tame and boring. Once people realize they can make a small fortune selling the macabre, they seek me out. It's easier than you might think, though not nearly as profitable as your various operations."

Rhysto turned his face away from her, half-closed eyes and compressed mouth saying more than words could have.

"You expect me to believe these things are just lying around here under their noses," he said, “and you happen to be there to liberate them?"

The corset was loose enough to slip over her head now, but he continued to slice the ribbon into smaller and smaller pieces. His right hand pushed her thin black cotton shirt away as he worked, exposing more of her chest.

"For a price, as you say." Loretta pulled the useless corset forward until the last of the blood-red ribbon slipped free and dropped it carefully beside the bed. She wanted