by I. T. Lucas
“My mother was illiterate,” Dalhu grated.
Anandur cast him a sad look then shrugged. “Yeah… I forgot how old you are. Hardly anyone was literate back then.”
Nice save.
Except, Dalhu had no doubt that Anandur and the others had been taught to read and write as children, and probably much more, regardless of when they had been born. And what’s more, the guy’s mother was probably still around, pretty and healthy, and not rotting in some unmarked grave after aging prematurely from hard use and then dying a broken woman.
That thought brought about a bitter dose of jealousy, which in turn supercharged the rage he had so far managed to control.
Get a grip, it’s not the guy’s fault that he had it better than you.
Fisting his hands, Dalhu forced his tone to what he hoped sounded bored, if not conversational. “If you insist on calling me a frog, at least tell me that damn fairytale you keep alluding to.”
Anandur’s grin spread wide. “The princess and the frog… I may botch the story a little because I don’t remember exactly how it goes, but you’ll get why I think of you as the frog, and Amanda as the princess, obviously.”
“Obviously…”
“Once upon a time… just so you know, all fairytales start like that… a beautiful princess was playing with her favorite ball by a pond, but then it slipped from her hand and fell into the water, sinking fast. She tried to reach it, but the pond was too deep. ‘Please, I’ll give all my riches to have my ball back,’ she cried.” With a hand over his heart, Anandur enacted the princess in a high-pitched voice while batting his eyelashes.
Dalhu chuckled. “You missed your calling, my man.”
“I know. But back to the story. Then the princess heard a tiny voice. ‘I don’t want your riches, but if you take me home and let me eat from your plate and sleep on your pillow, I’ll get the ball back for you,’ was the promise the ugly, slimy frog made to her.”
Dalhu grimaced. “Now I get it. I’m the ugly frog who tricked the princess into taking him home with her.”
“Would you let me finish?” Anandur rolled his eyes.
“Please, I can’t wait to hear the end.”
“The princess wanted her ball back, so she agreed, even though she was disgusted by the creature, and took the frog home. For three days the frog ate from her plate, and for three nights he slept on her pillow. And during that time, as they talked and played together, the princess grew fond of the frog. So much so, that on the last night she kissed him goodnight on his ugly, slimy, green cheek. Then the following morning, in place of the frog the princess found a handsome prince sleeping next to her.”
Dalhu snorted. “Then the beautiful princess screamed for her guards who rushed in and hastily killed the presumptuous prince. The end.”
Anandur frowned. “Maybe in the story’s adaptation for Doomers—”
Dalhu harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. “As if any woman who went to sleep with a pet and woke up with a man next to her wouldn’t have screamed murder.”
“Hello! A talking frog? Fairytale?”
“Okay, go on…”
“The prince told her that he was cursed by an evil witch and only the kindness of a good-hearted maiden who would let a frog eat from her plate and sleep on her pillow could’ve broken the curse.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What did she say?”
“At this point, the fairytale ends with the unlikely couple getting married and riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after.”
“I don’t get it. So what’s the moral of the story? Show kindness to a frog and it would turn into a prince?”
Anandur rolled his eyes again. “I can’t believe I’m explaining a fairytale—to a Doomer. It depends on how you want to look at it. The moral could be that you should be kind to everyone, even to a lowly creature, because it might be more than it seems. Or, be careful what you wish for and who you make promises to because rarely anyone turns out to be a prince, and most times you’ll end up stuck with a frog.”
“I see…” Not really, though. What was Anandur trying to say? That Dalhu might be a cursed prince? Not likely. Probably more along the lines of Amanda wishing for a prince but getting stuck with a frog. Which was true, but an insult nonetheless, and Anandur had claimed it wasn’t.
Still, Dalhu wasn’t about to ask Anandur for further clarification. As it was, the guy already thought him ignorant, he didn’t want to add stupid to the impression.
“Here, frog, your chance to morph into a prince.” Anandur handed him the largest notebook Dalhu had ever seen. The thing looked to be a foot and a half wide and two feet long.
“What is this?” He took it and read the cover—Drawing—which made his question sound stupid.
“I also got you charcoal sticks, charcoal pencils, drawing pencils, erasers, sharpeners—in other words, the works.” Anandur piled the boxes one on top of the other as he listed what was inside them. “And if you want to dabble in acrylics or oil paints, I would gladly take another trip to that art store for you. They have very helpful staff, if you know what I mean.” Anandur winked.
Dalhu was rendered momentarily speechless, expressing his amazement with a whistle. “When Kian said he would bring me sketching supplies, I imagined a few sheets of paper and some pencils.”
Anandur harrumphed. “I bet he did as well. I went wild in that store. You see…” He shifted to get closer and glanced both ways as if to check for eavesdroppers—strange, because they both knew that the place was bugged—then continued in a hushed voice. “The salesgirl had an incredible ass, and I made her run all over the store—following closely behind of course. It would’ve been rude not to buy all the things that she worked so hard on fetching.”
Yeah, good story, but for whose benefit? Dalhu’s or Anandur’s? Was the guy reluctant to admit his kindness? Maybe he sought to protect his tough-guy reputation. Or, maybe he attempted to make it easier on Dalhu to accept the thoughtful gift and not feel weird about it or obligated in any way.
In either case, Anandur had proven himself to be one hell of a guy, a true prince among men.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Dalhu offered his hand.
Anandur shook it. “You’re welcome. I’ll collect the payment later.”
What the hell?
“Payment? I have no money.”
“I’ll take it in the form of marketable goods. A signed drawing would do, preferably of a nude female…just make sure that she doesn’t resemble Amanda in any way.” He winked and clapped Dalhu’s shoulder. “Go, knock yourself out. I expect to see some production when I come back.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
CHAPTER 10: SEBASTIAN
“Mr. Shar, would you please sign here.” The driver of the delivery truck handed Sebastian a clipboard.
The fixtures for the upstairs bathrooms had arrived later than promised, but it was all good. Despite the slight delay, the additional crews he’d hired would help install everything by tonight.
Any other day, the two hours of pay for the workmen to just sit and wait would have chafed even though it wasn’t money out of his pocket, but Sebastian was in a good mood. And not only because the first shipment of weapons had arrived on schedule in the early hours of the morning and was now stored safely in the outbuilding he’d dedicated as an armory.
Well, maybe in part it was. The quality of the few items he had inspected had exceeded his expectations. But mainly, his good mood had to do with the uniquely pleasing evening he’d had spent at his club—with a particularly loud sub.
The woman had not been a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, or even as young as he usually liked them, but she had been an excellent screamer. And the begging… beautiful, it had been music to his ears. He should thank the club owner personally for the suggestion. Without it, he could’ve overlooked a very pleasing sub in favor of a better looking one.
How did
the American saying go? Never judge the book by its binding? Or something to that effect.
He might even schedule another round with her. If she was up to it…
Maybe in a couple of days.
Or sooner.
The woman must’ve been amazed at how little damage she had actually sustained. Sebastian had been very careful to leave the memories of pain and humiliation intact, submerging only the memory of his bite.
For a masochist like her, a sadist like him must’ve seemed like a godsend.
Sebastian chuckled. Now, this was a term he had never expected a woman to associate with him. And yet, it was true. Who else could’ve healed the damage he’d caused so she could indulge in her kink much sooner than she normally would?
The novelty of having an enthusiastic partner—one that was up to almost all that he liked to dish out and not because it was part of her job but out of her own free will—had been unexpectedly pleasing, even satisfying.
For a moment, Sebastian entertained the idea of keeping her for himself, making her the first occupant of his dungeon.
He would not share her, though. A woman of that caliber was too good for the others.
He had even enjoyed her quick mind and, surprisingly, her sense of humor during the pre-assignation negotiations. The woman was intelligent, a lawyer by occupation, and had very few hard limits.
Still, had he enjoyed this new experience enough to shift his preference to willing partners?
Only one way to find out; follow up with his usual fare of victims. There were pros and cons to both, and he was curious which way the scale tilted.
Regrettably, he had to concede that even if the masochist won, his partner from last night wasn’t the right one. She didn’t fit the profile of an easy abductee—one with no family, friends, or coworkers who would notice her missing and report to the authorities.
The lawyer was a partner in a large firm and her absence would be noted immediately. And anyway, a smart cookie like her might figure a way to escape.
Too risky.
In his experience, the prudent approach was to stick to what had been tested and proven to work well, and not gamble on something new unless it was absolutely necessary.
“Robert.” Sebastian turned to his assistant.
“Yes, sir.” The man’s spine snapped into a straight line, but he managed to check himself at the last moment before adding a salute.
“Sorry, Se… bastian.”
The man was a lost cause. “Did you call the commander of the other team? What was his name?”
“Dalhu, sir.”
“Robert, Robert, Robert, whatever shall we do with you…”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try harder.”
“Don’t try, just do.”
“Yes…” The man swallowed hard, choking down the compulsion to finish with the requisite ‘sir’. “I’ve talked with his second. Apparently, Dalhu was one of the warriors who were taken out by the Guardians. But I forwarded your instructions to the second, and he was happy to hear that they were going home.”
“What about the house they’ve been renting?”
“Tom already took care of it. The whole deal has been brokered from the start through our trade partners here in Los Angeles, so there was no paperwork to bother with. All it took is letting them know the men will be vacating the place by tomorrow.”
“Good, well done, Robert.”
Sebastian was glad to be rid of that team. The men he had chosen to join him were loyal to him, and he knew they were the right ones for the job. He had no intention of bringing in outsiders whom he hadn’t personally vetted.
Still, he’d decided to wait a few days after arrival before arranging for their transport back to base.
He wasn’t worried about anyone questioning his decision to send the other team home. But impressions mattered, and it was important not to look as if he feared outsiders. It might raise unnecessary suspicions when in fact he had nothing to hide. So he took his time.
His grandfather—the exalted leader of the Brotherhood of the Devout Order Of Mortdh—was brilliant, but unfortunately, he was also paranoid. And although Sebastian was loyal to the core, there was no convincing Navuh of that.
The man trusted no one.
CHAPTER 11: KIAN
Kian’s phone chimed with the sound of bells—the ringtone he’d assigned to his mother.
“Good afternoon, Mother.”
“Indeed, it is a splendid afternoon. I have just convinced Gerard to help. He is going to design a menu and even prepare part of it in his restaurant. The rest he will give Okidu the recipes for—provided in strict confidentiality, of course.”
“You sure the Odus would be able to handle Gerard’s elaborate creations for such big dinner? What works for his restaurant might not work for a large scale production.”
“I am sure an experienced chef like him would take it into consideration. But I did not call you to discuss the wedding menu. There was something important I wanted to ask you but had to wait until your lovely bride excused herself to go powder her nose.”
Kian smiled, wondering if he should tell Annani that no one powdered their nose anymore.
Nah… “Ask away.”
“Did you buy a wedding ring for Syssi? Or even an engagement ring?”
Fuck, how could he have forgotten an important thing like that? “No, I didn’t.”
“Just as I thought. Hurry up and buy both. And may I offer a suggestion?”
A suggestion, right. Kian rolled his eyes. Annani didn’t offer suggestions, she issued diktats. “Yes, of course, Mother.”
“Take your sweet fiancée out to dinner and present her with the ring in a romantic setting. I would think the girl deserves at least one date as your fiancée before becoming your wife.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” Did he feel like an ass or what? What was he? Twelve? That he needed his mother to point out the obvious?
“Do not forget that you need an appointment if you want a high caliber jeweler, which I am sure you do.”
Hell, how was he supposed to know that? “Can you suggest one? I’m really out of my element here.”
“But of course. I will do better than that. I will call the one I use and arrange for an appointment within an hour. Without my influence, any respectable establishment would demand at least a fortnight’s notice to see you.”
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”
“No need to thank me. That is what mothers are for.”
“How about, I love you.”
There was a sniffle. “That is perfect.”
Kian chuckled. “So why are you crying?”
“Because it has been ages since the last time you said you love me.”
That can’t be—
Actually, he couldn’t remember telling her he loved her ever since he was a boy.
Regardless of how many times Annani had referred to herself as a mother, in his mind, she was first and foremost the head of their clan, and as such, deserving of his respect and deference. But her station aside, Annani was pure heart and valued love above all. He should’ve been mindful of that.
“I’m sorry I’ve neglected to tell you I love you, I promise that from now on you will hear it more often from me.”
Annani chuckled. “Do not make promises you are not going to keep, Kian. And I do not need daily affirmations to know that you love me. But once in a while, it is nice to hear.”
And… the head of the clan was back. “As you wish.”
“Call Syssi and tell her you are taking her out. Make it late evening in case the purchase takes longer than expected.”
“Yes, she who must be obeyed.”
Annani laughed, the chiming sound more beautiful than anything ever recorded. “Indeed,” she said before disconnecting.
Kian swiveled his chair to face Shai.
The guy sighed. “I know, reschedule all your phone conferences and email everyone waiting for a response from you to let
them know they will have to wait a little longer.”
“You read my mind.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Yes, you do.”
“But before you go, there are a few quick items Onegus asked me to run by you. All I need is a couple of minutes.”
“Shoot.”
“He wanted to let you know that everyone who received the warning email that he sent out confirmed that they got it and are going to take precautions.” Shai chuckled. “He said that judging by the panicky responses, escort services are going to see an unprecedented spike in business. There were even a few who suggested that we should have our own private brothel…” He lifted a brow in question.
As if Kian was going to stoop to the fucking Doomers’ level. “Not going to happen. Next.”
“The first self-defense class is scheduled for seven this evening, and Onegus wondered if you’d like to come and say a few words. But obviously that’s not going to happen either…”
“No. But I’ll try to make it to the next one.”
“I’ll let him know. And lastly, which left me somewhat puzzled, Onegus wants me to schedule a mandatory class for all our boys between the ages of thirteen and eighteen about sex and consent. And he wants Bhathian to teach it?”
“Yeah, after the fiasco with Jackson got resolved, we’ve decided it’s a good idea. And Bhathian is just the right guy to scare the shit out of them.”
“I thought Jackson was found innocent.”
“He was. But the whole thing stunk. First, we got the accusation, then after Onegus emailed the accuser back and explained the consequences, the little chickenshit emailed an apology saying he misunderstood and that the blowjob was consensual. Onegus decided to investigate anyway, but although he confirmed that Jackson was indeed innocent, he was alarmed by the boys’ cavalier attitude. Hence the class.”
“Okay… But did anyone ask Bhathian if he’s willing to teach it?”
Kian smirked. “He can’t wait to terrorize a bunch of boys out of their self-entitled attitude.”
Shai nodded. “Good, I didn’t want to be the one to ask the grouch.”