Page 65 of The Satyr's Guilt
Margo elbowed Skyler. “Sure, but look howgreat it turned out.”
The corners of Skyler’s lips turned up.“True. No complaints. My trainer works with me on scrying. I’mmaking progress.”
“You’re too modest,” said Braelyn. “You’reamazing. My trainer works with me on mind control techniques.”
Denim nodded. “What’s your … skill … gift,Margo?”
“Chay calls it my wonky-thing. I mess withradio waves. Cool, huh?”
“What’s Nico’s?” asked Galena.
Braelyn’s eyes widened. “Don’t bring it uparound him. Big, bad topic of conversation. He hasn’t developed oneyet.”
“Wow!” said Denim. “What if the same thinghappens to me? Are you sure we’re descendants?”
“One hundred percent proof positive.” Margoswept a lock of red hair over her shoulder.
“We believe some are slower to develop theirgifts.” Skyler rested a palm on her baby mound.
Braelyn jiggled her sandaled foot. “Anyway,you’ll get a physical trainer, too. Of course, as an Allianceagent, you may not need one. I was sore for months.”
“Chay rubbed my legs every night. I told himmy ass was sore, too. He gave it added attention. A little rub, alittle slap, and a lot of tickle.” Margo’s gaze swept the room.
“TMI,” said Braelyn.
Though everyone grinned big time, theynodded.
“Like Abello, Denim is going to be workingwith the Firebrands. She’ll be getting regular workouts with Ram.Probably won’t need another trainer. On the sly, she’s already beeneyeing up the satyr for extra lessons.” Galena tossed in hersnark.
All the women laughed. Then they quietedabruptly.
“You’re serious?” Braelyn wrinkled herforehead. “He’s sizzling hot, but he hates humans.”
Denim smirked. “Galena’s kidding. I agree,the guy is bodacious. But there’s nothing between us.”
“He has a great tush, firm-like, squeezable.And all the luscious hair,” said Margo. “Yummy.”
The ladies’ chins bobbed in unison.
Chapter Fifteen
Jarek lounged on a mass of floor pillows,one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out. He eyed theunconscious female who tossed and turned, a sign she would wakesoon. She’d slept over twenty-four hours.
In his oversized bed, a thick pallet madefrom a king mattress, layers of handwoven rugs, and a few homespunblankets, she seemed small, frail. Unable to avert his eyes, he sawher bruised, cut body when Kara removed the soiled, tattered dressto bathe her. She suffered enough indignities without a male oglingher dirty, abused form. Since he couldn’t give her the respect shedeserved, he left the room. After the bath, his Amazon Firebranddried her off, slipping one of his T-shirts over her head as anightgown.
She wasn’t short. From hair to heels, maybefive-eleven, making her tall for a human female. After Kara lay heron his bed, he threw furs over her, not missing her shapelylegs.
Jarek figured Spear had not fed her well.Her hip bones were knife blades. Her ribs jutted out of her thintorso. Despite this, her breasts were plump mounds which, underother circumstances, he might admire. With the grime washed fromher hair, its rich midnight color shimmered as it fanned outbeneath her resting head. Her lips were full, naturally pink. Hercheekbones were high, her slightly tilted eyes outlined with thicklashes.
Obviously, he wasn’t good at being agentleman. He looked on her longer than he should have. Butsomething about her drew him to her.
Jarek had no idea why she fascinated him.They had never spoken. He knew nothing about her except she hadescaped from Spear’s prison.
Normally, he never obsessed over females.When he needed release, he brought a camp follower to his bed. Theywere enough. Plenty of them hung around. Yet this unconsciousex-slave seduced him. Was it because she had been enslaved? Was itbecause she had escaped her captor?
She stirred, kicking off her covers. Jarekrose, bent over her sleeping form, and resettled the animal hide tokeep her warm. It was a chilly autumn in this southern hemisphereof Scath.
When she thrashed from side to side, thedjinn commander tightened his fists, growling at the property markon her neck. She wore a slave brand.
