Page 86 of Pulled By the Tail
The room held its collective breath, waiting on Talen’s response. He needed to draw the assassin away from his mate. Charl needed a clear shot.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Fiona said in a stage-whisper.
“Oh, you fucking moron. The person you wanted to sell the unique, one-of-a-kind, highly recognizable work of art to is not a collector. He’s bad news,” Georgia said. Pride sparked in his chest at his clever mate.
“He said he’s a writer. He wrote that book, with the two kits. You know. You have a copy.”
“The Lost Princes. Holy shit,” Georgia said. “Is that you? Are you the lost princes?”
That fucking book. “Lies and slander,” Talen said.
“I don’t know. It’s well regarded as a popular history,” the assassin said, never stepping away from Georgia. “Attitudes are shifting. The old families are being restored. Your mother was a very popular figure and history looks favorably on the work she did.” He spoke in a bored, almost aristocratic tone. He could understand how that would convince Fiona she spoke to the author of that piece of flaming garbage.
“A prince is the son of a king. Our grandfather was king and our father the younger son. I had the courtesy title of marquess at the time and Talen had an earldom lined up for when he reached his majority. Of course, I’d be only a duke now, I’m afraid,” Quil said, as casually as if they were drinking and playing cards.
“So, I’m a duchess?” Fiona asked.
“Alas, my sweet, no. There was an unpleasant little civil war,” Quil said. “Our parents were murdered, and Talen and I fled, hiding from assassins for a good decade until we were declared dead.”
“So, go back! You’re not dead,” Fiona said, like the title of duchess was a trivial item Quil could pick up at a shop and give her.
“You see, my sweet, a second cousin inherited. Esteem. We agreed to renounce our claim, change our names and never return, in exchange for not being murdered in our sleep,” Quil said, eyeing the assassin’s blade.
The deal changed, apparently.
“As I said, attitudes have shifted. His Grace feels the previous duke and his mate have grown too popular posthumously and the two lost princes have captured the public’s imagination with that book. Now, kneel.” The assassin gesture with his free hand, blade still at Georgia’s throat.
“So, I’m not a duchess?”
“I’m afraid not, kitten,” Quil said.
Fiona turned her hot glare to the assassin, displaying utter lack of self-preservation. “This is your fault! You said he was a duke! I just needed to give you the music box.”
Momentarily, the male turned his head toward Fiona and the knife eased back a fraction. Quil lifted his bound legs, knocking the blade from the male’s hands. Talen dove, sending the blade further across the floor.
The assassin nimbly jumped to his feet and grabbed an object from the workbench. He held a chisel, not the most lethal item but it would inflict serious damage. He towered over Talen, who moved to intercept the blow and protect his mate.
Glass shattered.
The assassin swayed on his feet. The chisel clattered to the floor and his body dropped, a discreet hole in his forehead the cause.
“What were you waiting for?” Talen said, retrieving the knife to cut through the silver tape.
“Someone wouldn’t kneel and kept blocking my shot.” Charl entered their makeshift workshop, the rifle leaning on his shoulder.
Blood and brain matter splattered across the floor and along the top of desk waiting to be refinished.
“We are out of practice,” Quil said. “I practically winked and repeated the signal.”
“I saw no signal.”
“My sweet? Come on. I do not speak like that. It’s undignified.”
“As you say, honey bear,” Talen said, and quickly cut the rope binding Quil’s hand and gave him the knife. He ignored his brother’s babbling. Quil chattered when stressed. He had a more important person to tend to.
“Don’t look,” he said, helping Georgia to her feet. He ran his hand down her arms, holding up her wrists for inspection and gently kissing the red marks. “Are you hurt?”
Stress hormones rolled off her, clouding his senses. He needed to see she was unharmed. He needed to inspect every inch of her delicate human skin.
