“You brought him here, therefore the debt is yours. Maybe next time you’ll choose your clients a little more carefully.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, and not because she’d never be stupid enough to do something like this again. She’d defied him to his face and she was a woman. In his world view, women existed to serve whatever needs he had. Up until tonight, she’d amused him, so he’d indulged her. She could read it as easily as she could the words of a book. Whatever happened between him and Zaxe, Reman would make her pay.
If she managed to get out of here, she’d have to run. But where? None of the territories were exactly welcoming, and she had no family to sponsor her, no essential skills. Traders were a dime a dozen. She couldn’t exactly go to her father for help. The bastard wouldn’t be more likely to return her to Reman … for a fee.
As always, she was on her own.
Reman chose a plump fig from the bowl and bit off a piece. “I’m waiting.” His guards took a step toward her. She took a deep breath and brought her fingers to the front of her shirt.
“Enough.” Zaxe’s deep voice cut through the room with the force and precision of a machete through a coconut. “Once you see me, there is no going back.” With those ominous words, he lowered his hood.
Relief flooded her. Since her knees were weak, she lowered herself back down to the cushion. With all the attention on Zaxe, she swirled her cloak back around her and fastened it. It took several tries since her fingers were trembling.
What was the big deal about his appearance anyway? She’d seen him. Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. Maybe he’d only paid her because he planned to take the money back when he killed her.
Gods, her imagination was running wild with scenarios. This was nothing more than a power play between men. Like animals in the wild, both of them were trying to assert their dominance. A hysterical laugh tickled the back of her throat, seeking escape. She clamped her back teeth together.
The lamplight reflected off Zaxe’s dark skin. Reman was handsome in a refined way. Zaxe was much like the weapon he was named after—blunt and powerful. His lips were full, his nose slightly too large, his cheekbones prominent, yet it all came together to create a commanding presence.
“See.” Reman threw his arms out by his sides and raised his hands upward. “Was that so difficult? I expected you to be hideously deformed, but you’re a man like any other. You enjoy being mysterious.” He shot her an aside. “Makes him more irresistible to the ladies, no?”
The urge to roll her eyes was almost too much. She opted to look at her lap to be on the safe side.
“You are Zaxian,” he continued. Reman did like to hear himself talk, and they were a captive audience. “You do look familiar. What is your name?”
“Zaxe.” Jamaeh was surprised he gave it so easily after the battle over the cloak.
“Come, my friend. Do not lie now that we’ve made such progress. That is a weapon, not a name.” She’d said the same earlier. He’d likely continue to hear it every time he met someone.
“It is mine.”
“Not a talkative fellow, are you?” He took a sip of wine. “That’s fine. There are ways to make you talk. I find them more enjoyable.”
“Where is Helldrick?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
The back and forth was fast and fascinating. It was like watching two deadly cobras dance, each seeking a vulnerable spot in their opponent to strike. She couldn’t look away.
“As I said, he owes me considerable money.”
“How much?” Zaxe leaned across the table and plucked a fig from the bowl. The man either had a death wish or balls of titansteel, rumored to be the most indestructible metal in the universe. She was more inclined to believe the latter was true.
He bit down on the sweet treat. His teeth flashed white and straight. And when he licked his upper lip, she followed the path of his tongue. Heat pooled low in her belly.
Stop it! The warning helped her focus, but nothing could make her look away.
“One hundred thousand Alliance credits.”
Jamaeh put her hand out to catch herself before she toppled over. “One hundred thousand.” The hoarse whisper was barely audible.
“I only advanced him fifty, but he promised double the return. Something about some