But for once, whatever was happening with the vamps, Malik seemed to be as out of the loop as I was.
The boat glided over the water, heading under the bridge towards where the lake narrowed and split around a small island covered in small trees and overgrown bushes. A home to the lake’s herons.
Malik’s hand encircled my right ankle. As I jumped, he said, ‘May I?’
Slightly bemused, I nodded, made myself settle back and look relaxed.
He grasped my trainer and pulled it off. It thudded on the bottom of the boat and I had to force myself not to jump again at the cool touch of his hands on my bare skin. Within seconds warmth spread throughout my body, warmth that turned my bones languid and simmered a delicious heat deep inside me. Gods, if he was this good with just my feet . . .
I swallowed and asked, ‘Reflexology?’ less from interest and more to stop my mouth moaning in pleasure.
‘It is similar. This is Sokushin Do. It is the ancient Indian tradition of foot massage for healing and pleasure, taught by monks in the temples in Japan. “Soku” means foot. “Shin” means heart. “Do” means way.’
Well, his touch was certainly finding its way to my heart. And other places.
‘Now, Genevieve,’ he said, his voice weaving round me like silk, ‘tell me about this connection between the Emperor and the Bangladeshi ambassador.’
Was his Sokushin Do just a way of softening me up? If it were, I’d happily agree to be softened up like this any time he wanted. I stifled a sigh of bliss then, knowing I was probably going to spoil the moment again, lifted my arm and regretfully released my bracelet. It appeared around my left wrist with its usual chinking of charms. As Malik raised one elegant brow I held it up. ‘Don’t suppose you took your ring back the other night?’
His hands stilled in their tantalising caressing of my sole. ‘No.’
Delighted relief that he hadn’t washed through me, quickly followed by annoyance at Mad Max. ‘Then I’m pretty sure Maxim took it. I had a run-in with him after you left.’
‘You ran into Maxim?’
‘Well, it was more the other way round,’ I said, thinking of Mad Max’s roundhouse kick. I propped myself on my elbows and told Malik everything about the leaking Fertility spell and my night with Mad Max (which lit fires of rage in Malik’s pupils, though he didn’t bat an eye at Mad Max using magic, so the crazy sonofabitch had been truthful about keeping his wizarding abilities). Then, after a side discussion assuring Malik I was fine despite Mad Max’s rough treatment and that the Poultice spell was actually working, I asked, ‘So is Max following you or me? And on whose orders?’
‘I do not know.’ Malik’s expression hardened, his hand holding my ankle flexing with restrained strength. ‘Yet.’
For a moment, I was gleeful that Mad Max would end up at Malik’s mercy, then my glee muted to disappointment that whatever Mad Max was up to, Malik wasn’t up to speed with it. Still, if he didn’t know about Mad Max, he had to know about my gatecrashing his dream of kneeling in the snow, and talking to someone about sanguine lemures – the blood of undead ghosts. After all, he’d told me I had to leave the dream, had pulled me out of it, even. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to ask him; not when it suddenly hit me that my dreamcrashing had been a huge invasion of privacy.
‘Something else weird happened last night,’ I said, pulse speeding nervously, ‘I think I accidentally ended up in your dream. Or memory . . .’ I trailed off as the boat rocked, horror crossing his face and he released my foot, too quickly for me to stop it thumping down on the wooden planks. Then the boat settled and his usual enigmatic mask dropped like a shutter over his face.
‘My apologies, Genevieve. I did not intend to bring you into my memories. I imagine that the spell you removed’ – he touched the faint scar on his forehead – ‘and partly absorbed was responsible. The jellyfish organism had been feeding on my blood, which contained the power of Red Shamrock.’ Red Shamrock vamps could share or even steal memories. ‘I will take more care in future.’
I scrambled to sit up. ‘I don’t think it was all down to you.’ I told him about the Morpheus Memory Aid and that the bizarre side-effect was no doubt brought on by my usual iffy reaction to magic. ‘So really I’m the one who needs to apologise.’
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Then we should both endeavour to take more care in future, Genevieve.’
‘Probably a good idea,’ I agreed with a smile, then said tentatively, ‘Your memory didn’t feel happy . . .’ I trailed off as flames flared in his pupils, then snuffed out, leaving his eyes black and opaque. Damn, was he mad? Or what? ‘I’m sorry, Malik. I didn’t mean to pry’ – the magic pricked at me for sort of lying – ‘well, not in a bad way. Maybe if you want to talk about it, I could help?’
Something indefinable darkened his eyes. ‘Thank you, but the incident happened in the past and it is not one I wish to discuss.’
Hurt flashed in me. Not that he wouldn’t clue me in about his memories, but that his tone was the same chill one he’d used before to push me away. Instinctively, I pulled my feet under me. ‘Fair enough,’ I said, angry at myself, when my words came out less neutrally than I wanted.
He took in a breath, nostrils flaring, then his sorrow and regret slipped like a wisp of shadow over me – mesma. ‘I did not intend’ – he dipped his head, letting his loose black hair obscure his face for a moment, reminding me of Katie when she was anxious, then a brisk wind blew his hair back to reveal his beautiful features set in a grim expression – ‘I will tell you of the . . . memory, Genevieve. But it is one that is difficult for me to recount and I think it is more pertinent that we first talk of those matters that could be of concern to us now. For the rest, we have the night before us, do we not?’
A knot inside me loosened. He wasn’t cutting me off, he was just postponing. And he was right. We did have all night to chat. And maybe more. And sitting in a small rowboat in the middle of a moonlit boating lake was as perfect a place as any to do it. So might as well get the less personal stuff out of the way first.
‘Okay,’ I said slowly, then as he held out his hand in an obvious peace offering, I uncurled my legs and let him lift my other foot and slip my trainer off. I relaxed back as his long fingers started to weave their Sokushin Do magic.
‘It may be that I could help you with retrieving the memory you wished to enhance,’ Malik said softly, ‘if you would allow me to?’
‘Thanks.’ I smiled. ‘I would, but I got what I needed from the spell’ – ID-ing Katie’s treacherous spy boyfriend – ‘but there was something else.’ I told him about waking to find my bed covered in crimson rose petals. His frown let me know, as I’d thought, the petals weren’t down to him. I added that either I’d subconsciously called the petals myself (as Finn had suggested, not that I mentioned him) or that maybe Mad Max might have had something to do with them.
‘So what do you think?’ I asked.
‘I will look into it, Genevieve.’ Malik’s mouth thinned, his thumb pressing uncomfortably hard into the ball of my foot. I tensed before I could stop. His touch danced lighter and I gave an appreciative sigh then reluctantly got my mind back onto business as he asked, ‘Can you tell me about this connection between the Emperor and the Bangladeshi ambassador?’
‘You know the ambassador’s wife and kid have been kidnapped?’ The story was splashed all over the news so I’d have been surprised if Malik hadn’t, but it always pays to check. He nodded. ‘Well, I got another tarot card. It showed the ambassador under attack at the mosque by a werewolf, so I went to find out what it had to do with the fae’s trapped fertility. When I arrived I saw the ambassador talking to this couple and my gut said werewolves. So I added two and two, rightly or wrongly, and came up with their being the kidnappers. Then, as the ambassador wasn’t going anywhere, or so I thought, I decided to follow them to see if they might lead me to the victims.’