body.
“Devon!” a woman said in a shocked voice. “What in the world
are you doing?”
He dropped Shan so fast she stumbled back and caught herself
on the edge of the table. The wads of fabric she’d clutched in her fists
bunched on his chest, and she turned to see who had made the Temple Guard
holding her drop her like a hot potato.
The elegant woman who had sold her coffee strode down the
aisle toward them with the two guards in her wake. The front of her green
jacket flapped open, revealing a white robe and elaborate girdle made of
polished stones. Whoever she was, she was obviously a high-ranking priestess of
some type.
“Devon King, why are you harassing this young woman?”
“She doesn't have a permit.” The man who had to be Devon
shot her a glance, and his strong jaw clenched.
“I do have one,” she said with a huff. “I can't find it.”
“Sure you do—”
The woman stopped before the asshole Temple Guard, and he
glared again at Shan. Looking between Devon and the priestess, it was obvious
they were related. Both had a bold curved nose and full lips, but his skin was
a few shades lighter than the woman's deep tan, more of a bronze. A gorgeous
color that would look great against her white sheets.
Realizing they were both watching her as she stared at
Devon, she flushed. “I do have one,” she said again, realizing how lame the
defense sounded but unable to form a coherent thought with Devon staring at
her.
“I believe you,” the woman said with a small smile.
“But—” his hands curled into fists as a small female guard
strolled up behind him, fighting a grin. It was the same brown-haired and
silver-eyed guard Shan had seen earlier on the street. He turned his glare onto
the female guard, and the short woman suddenly found the sky very interesting,
whistling and giving a look of such false innocence that Shan had to resist the
urge to laugh at the way Devon was glaring at both of them.
“Enjoy your time at the bazaar,” the priestess said and
placed a gentle hand on Devon's arm.
“Mother, I—”
He stopped and sniffed the air. The two women with him did
the same. Curious, Shan followed suit and coughed. “What is that awful smell?”
She spat and tried to clear the stench of rotten fish and decay from her nose
and mouth.
They gave her an astonished look a moment before all hell
broke loose.
Screams came from the entrance of the bazaar, and Shan had a
horrible flashback of last night.
“Everyone into the temples,” Devon yelled in an impossibly
loud voice and sprinted toward the entrance with the small silver-eyed woman at
his heels.
Panic shot through the crowd, and Shan gagged as another
wave of the horrible smell assaulted her nose. The rug seller and toy maker
quickly abandoned their stalls and sprinted toward the entrance of a brown
sandstone temple entrance a few rows over. Cries and shouts filled the air as
she grabbed her backpack and shoved the jewelry that had spilled out while she
searched for her permit back into it as fast as she could. She didn't give a
crap about the fake stuff on the table, but the items in the baggies had taken
her months to make.
A random foot slammed on her hand, and she screamed as a guy
in a red shirt glanced back but kept on running. Tears sprang to her eyes as she
examined her hand and tried to close her fist. The fingers still responded, but
her pinky was already starting to swell and an imprint of the tread from his
shoe stood out in angry white lines against the red of her skin.
She had to duck as another man plowed through the stand
behind hers and knocked a row of earthenware jars to the ground where they
shattered. His eyes rolled with fright, and a spray of blood dripped from the
back of his brown leather jacket from what looked like a deep wound on his head.
One of those drops hit her cheek, and she wiped it away with disgust.
In the time it had taken her to gather her things with her
one good hand, the bazaar had been
“Devon!” a woman said in a shocked voice. “What in the world
are you doing?”
He dropped Shan so fast she stumbled back and caught herself
on the edge of the table. The wads of fabric she’d clutched in her fists
bunched on his chest, and she turned to see who had made the Temple Guard
holding her drop her like a hot potato.
The elegant woman who had sold her coffee strode down the
aisle toward them with the two guards in her wake. The front of her green
jacket flapped open, revealing a white robe and elaborate girdle made of
polished stones. Whoever she was, she was obviously a high-ranking priestess of
some type.
“Devon King, why are you harassing this young woman?”
“She doesn't have a permit.” The man who had to be Devon
shot her a glance, and his strong jaw clenched.
“I do have one,” she said with a huff. “I can't find it.”
“Sure you do—”
The woman stopped before the asshole Temple Guard, and he
glared again at Shan. Looking between Devon and the priestess, it was obvious
they were related. Both had a bold curved nose and full lips, but his skin was
a few shades lighter than the woman's deep tan, more of a bronze. A gorgeous
color that would look great against her white sheets.
Realizing they were both watching her as she stared at
Devon, she flushed. “I do have one,” she said again, realizing how lame the
defense sounded but unable to form a coherent thought with Devon staring at
her.
“I believe you,” the woman said with a small smile.
“But—” his hands curled into fists as a small female guard
strolled up behind him, fighting a grin. It was the same brown-haired and
silver-eyed guard Shan had seen earlier on the street. He turned his glare onto
the female guard, and the short woman suddenly found the sky very interesting,
whistling and giving a look of such false innocence that Shan had to resist the
urge to laugh at the way Devon was glaring at both of them.
“Enjoy your time at the bazaar,” the priestess said and
placed a gentle hand on Devon's arm.
“Mother, I—”
He stopped and sniffed the air. The two women with him did
the same. Curious, Shan followed suit and coughed. “What is that awful smell?”
She spat and tried to clear the stench of rotten fish and decay from her nose
and mouth.
They gave her an astonished look a moment before all hell
broke loose.
Screams came from the entrance of the bazaar, and Shan had a
horrible flashback of last night.
“Everyone into the temples,” Devon yelled in an impossibly
loud voice and sprinted toward the entrance with the small silver-eyed woman at
his heels.
Panic shot through the crowd, and Shan gagged as another
wave of the horrible smell assaulted her nose. The rug seller and toy maker
quickly abandoned their stalls and sprinted toward the entrance of a brown
sandstone temple entrance a few rows over. Cries and shouts filled the air as
she grabbed her backpack and shoved the jewelry that had spilled out while she
searched for her permit back into it as fast as she could. She didn't give a
crap about the fake stuff on the table, but the items in the baggies had taken
her months to make.
A random foot slammed on her hand, and she screamed as a guy
in a red shirt glanced back but kept on running. Tears sprang to her eyes as she
examined her hand and tried to close her fist. The fingers still responded, but
her pinky was already starting to swell and an imprint of the tread from his
shoe stood out in angry white lines against the red of her skin.
She had to duck as another man plowed through the stand
behind hers and knocked a row of earthenware jars to the ground where they
shattered. His eyes rolled with fright, and a spray of blood dripped from the
back of his brown leather jacket from what looked like a deep wound on his head.
One of those drops hit her cheek, and she wiped it away with disgust.
In the time it had taken her to gather her things with her
one good hand, the bazaar had been
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