Tara (8 page)

He never should have agreed to this.

But Luca would have just sent someone else.

Alaric tried not to think about what some of the other employees of Infinity Consulting would have done with the offers she had made the night before, or would have done with that sedative.

Luca had been right, as he usually was, that he was the only one for this contract.

When he had his slacks and shirt on, he made sure the tie looked right as he stepped out again. She was in the same place, but her eyes were closed and her head was leaned back on the couch. He noticed she’d done her makeup, and her feet were tucked into some very pointy, very high heels. She could have stepped off a movie screen, or out of a high-end fashion magazine.

He really needed to stop staring at her.

“Tara?” His voice was quiet at first and he cleared his throat to say it again, taking a few steps towards her. “Tara.” Her blue eyes opened again and she gave him that movie star smile. If Luca thought
he
had a dangerous smile, he needed to meet Tara. How many people had she stunned into silence with it?

How many people had been killed over it?

As usual, his head gave him the more important question, and looking at her he felt like he was about to put himself in the line of fire with a smile on his face.

Chapter Eight

The British soldier, Alaric, cleaned up
very
nicely and had been honest so far. He had promised to take her outside and he had actually followed through. After they had pulled on coats and he had packed his messenger bag, he had stolen a stack of towels from a maid’s cart in the hall to restock their devastated room. Then he had thrown a
Non Disturbare
sign on the door, and had led her downstairs, into that beautiful car, and off into the streets of Milan.

They didn’t drive for very long, and it had been an awkward silence. Tara wanted to thank him for taking her outside, but she didn’t want to draw his attention to something he may not know was a bad idea. After all, she was still unclaimed. All hell could break loose if the wrong person saw her.

His problem - not hers
. She was going to belong to someone new either way.

He parked the car on a street, and came around to help her out and she let him this time. It had made him very nervous the night before when she’d climbed out of the car on her own, and there was no reason to piss him off when she was outside, walking around like a real girl.

“Where are we going?” She asked as she took his arm, and he stiffened for a second before relaxing. He must not be used to people touching him, but he didn’t push her away so she left her arm in his. In contrast, Tara was too used to people touching her and had long ago suppressed the urge to flinch.

“I thought you would like some breakfast.” He was once again serious as he looked down at her, speaking English again. Even in the heels he was a few inches taller than her, so, at least six feet tall, and so young. Too young to be doing the things he’d done to get her out of Gianni’s.

“I would like breakfast, thank you.” She smiled at him and he inclined his head towards her as they walked down the street until he approached a very posh cafe. His smile turned on as soon as they stepped inside, and the hostess almost jumped out of her skin when Alaric looked at her. It made Tara smile for real, and looking at him he seemed well aware of his effect on the woman. It was amusing to watch him as he smoothly switched to Italian and asked her for a table.

Who knew he could be charming?

They were seated quickly and Tara crossed her legs, noting the heads that turned their way in her peripheral vision. There were women staring at him, and she was very used to the stares she got from men. Gianni had bought clothes like this to attract attention. A waitress came up and Alaric was in control as he ordered for them both, making the young woman swoon with his accent and the flash of a smile. Tara didn’t care what he ordered, it was just interesting to observe him.

Once they both had tea, and a small breadbasket was on the table, Alaric finally lifted his eyes to her. With the eye contact she could see that in the morning light they seemed to be a burnished gold, with flecks of green near the pupil.

“So,” he blew out a breath, “we have some time today, what would you like to do?”

Tara laughed, she couldn’t hold it in, and his forehead creased in confusion. “You want to know what
I’d
like to do?” She chose Italian to respond with, and watched as he translated.

“Yes, I do. Is that so strange?” He replied in Italian as well, and his features smoothed back out as he leaned back to drink his tea. Before he took a sip though he dragged a damp white strip out of the tea.

“Actually, yes.” Tara spoke in English this time, and she checked her tea but found no white strip inside it.

“Why are you changing languages?” He asked in English.

“I wanted to see how good you were.” She said in English, before she changed to German. “Kennen Sie andere Sprachen?”
Do you know other languages?

“Ich spreche Deutsch.”
I speak German
. He smiled, “Et en Français trop.”
And French too.

“¿Se honesta conmigo?”
Will you be honest with me?
Spanish was easy, she’d spent two decades in Spain rather recently. He paused for a moment. He was actually making a decision and not just blindly agreeing. She took a sip of her tea, appreciating how seriously he took the request.

He nodded.

She couldn’t help but smile at him when she spoke Swedish, a little more challenging, “Vilket språk vill Italienarna inte vet?”
What language would the Italians not know?

His forehead creased, and he shook his head, replying in Spanish. “No sé que lenguaje.”
I don’t know that language.

“What language should we use for this discussion?” Tara asked in English, keeping her voice low.

Alaric thought for a moment, and then he smiled into the cup, a small smile that only showed his top teeth. “Nihongo o hanashimasu ka?”
Do you speak Japanese?

Tara’s head pounded for a second as Eltera’s power flooded her to allow her to speak the new language. The ability to understand and speak all languages was one of the best gifts she had given her Faeoihn, long before it was ever needed. However, being traded across the world would have been impossible without it. Nothing like having a master shout commands at her, those bands activate and torment her, all the while never having any idea what they wanted. That would have been a death sentence.

She reminded herself to smile and lifted her head again. “Now I do.” Tara replied in Japanese. The new language sounded a little like music, the intonations of each word making everything sound beautiful.

“Now?” Alaric looked at her for a moment and she just smiled.

“Yes, now.” Taking a drink of her tea, she sat it back down.

“How
exactly
do you suddenly know Japanese?” He was a little sharp in his question, and it made her lips curve into a real smile again. For all his calm on the surface, she could already see the buttons to press to get a rise out of him.

“I already told you that a god made me what I am.” Tara tilted her head and felt the weight of her hair fall over her shoulder. “Well, she’s a goddess, not a god, but the gods understand all spoken words. When she made the Faeoihn this was one of the benefits we gained.” Tara looked at him across the table, a little impressed by how calm he remained.

“Another of those benefits would be the light-up trick this morning, and the healing?” Alaric asked, and she nodded.

Japanese was a beautiful language, but she didn’t quite understand how he knew it.

“May I ask a question?” She asked, and he nodded this time. “Why do you know Japanese? Were you stationed there as a soldier?”

His eyes dropped to the table before lifting back to hers. “I’m not a soldier, and I learned Japanese from a -,” he paused, “- a coworker.”

“You looked like a soldier when you showed up at my last residence.”
Cage
.

“I’ve never been a soldier.”

“Then what are you?” Tara picked up the cup and leaned back, drinking it slowly. Here was where she would see if he kept his promises for honesty as well as he kept his promises for day trips.

Alaric stretched an arm above his head, and it looked casual, but she watched as his eyes scanned the room. He was evaluating who was within listening distance, and who was watching them. She could have told him that the only one interested in them was the hostess, who probably wanted his number, and the older gentleman sitting alone at a table to their left who was really just staring at the hem of her skirt and not listening to them at all.

To her surprise he leaned forward and switched back to English, his voice incredibly quiet, “You would probably say I was a killer, or a murderer.” He took a breath. “The fancy terms are assassin or hitman. Not like they make it any better.” His eyes were locked onto hers as he waited for a reaction that wouldn’t come. She was sure he expected tears, some kind of emotional outburst, or at the very least wide-eyed shock.

He’d get none of that from her.

“Thank you for the honesty.” She sipped more tea and the surprise that flickered across his face was priceless.

“You’re not afraid?” He spoke normally again, but disguised their conversation by returning to Japanese.

“I’ve killed people too, probably more than you.” She looked down at the low cut top, the short skirt, her own eyes tracing down to the pointlessly high heels. “I wasn’t always this person.” Tara waited for him to react, but his forehead only creased slightly.

“Was Leonidas someone you killed?”

Her heart tripped over itself, her stomach wanted to return the tea, and she almost dropped the cup before she was able to get it back on the plate where it rattled for a second before it settled. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You were saying the name in your sleep.”

Damn the nightmares. Damn him for cuffing her. Damn Leonidas for being who he was.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” She tucked her shaking hands back into her lap. “Ask me anything else, anything, and I’ll answer you honestly.” Tara’s pulse was racing, but she tried to maintain a calm exterior even though inside there was an earthquake’s level of destruction on every barrier she’d built between her memories and her self.

“Alright. What were you to Gianni? The real answer.” Alaric was back to his serious self, and she was grateful he didn’t push further with Leonidas. For a moment Tara enjoyed that she was finally sitting with someone who didn’t know who she was, what she was. That fact settled the dust that Leonidas’ name had stirred up inside her.

She wanted to lie, to be something else. Someone else. Someone who was respectable, and brave, and noble.

But, she had promised honesty.

“A slave.” Tara said it in very quiet English so there was no chance of confusion for him. Nothing lost in translation. She didn’t want to have to repeat it. His hands tensed on the table for a moment before he relaxed them – he really hadn’t known.

“What?” Alaric had lapsed back into English as well, and his lack of eloquence told her more about his surprise than any emotional response.

Tara smiled over his shoulder as the waitress came back and they received omelets and toast and fresh fruit on plates. His smile came back like a mask, and he was once again all charm.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one at this table able to be someone else with a thought.

When the girl moved away neither of them reached for their food. He looked at her expectantly and she continued speaking quietly in English, “I told you there was another god that enslaved me, and all those like me, for eternity. Well, that wasn’t a joke.” Tara lined up her silverware to the right of her plate, tucking the napkin into her lap. “When someone lays a claim to me the curse makes it so it’s almost impossible for me to disobey. There are control bands, they cause extreme pain if I ignore a command. You can imagine, I’m sure, what most of my masters have wanted from me.”

She didn’t want to look at him again, she didn’t want to see
that look
cross his face when he realized what she was and what that meant. If he hadn’t wanted to touch her the night before when all he thought was that she was some weirdo sleeping in a cage babbling about humans and gods – now there was no chance for normalcy. He’d look at her with pity, or disgust. Maybe he’d stare at her like Gianni had, totally removed because she wasn’t real, or human… because she was nothing.

“I’m glad I killed him.” Alaric’s voice was so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if she’d moved, and her eyes snapped up to his. Those brown and green eyes were furious, and his lips peeled back from his teeth as he spoke again, “I’ve only felt that way once before, and I’ve never said it out loud, but in this case? Bastard deserved it.”

“Do you –” She started to speak but he cut her off this time.

“I understand, trust me.” He put his own napkin in his lap and started to butter a slice of toast. “I assure you I will not hurt you. Not like that. Not at all.”

She couldn’t respond. Her hand picked up her fork unbidden and cut off a corner of the omelet in her shock. His eyes were still blazing, but it was because of Gianni, not her.

“Now… will you answer my question? What do you want to do today?” He bit into the toast and Tara forced herself to swallow the bite of the omelet.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He locked his eyes on her again, his strong jaw was clenched and it made the line of it stand out.

“I want to be around music.”