Pleasure's Offering

by Moira Sutton

  Pleasure’s Offering

  Moira Sutton

  As the chosen avatar of the goddess of desire, Zoa has pledged her life, her magic and her pleasure to her Lady. But when she’s sent north to bring another of the Goddess’s Chosen into the fold before his magic can run out of control, she finds herself caught between a handsome Legion captain and his powerful lieutenant, the man she’s supposed to bring to her goddess.

  Captain Izar and Lieutenant Jeric have been swordbrothers and best friends for years. Faced with a never-ending northern war, they arrange a night of pure debauchery for their troops at a famous brothel. But the courtesan who enthralls them is more than what she seems, and one passionate night no longer feels like enough.

  With two amazing, amorous men eager to satisfy her every desire, the goddess should be pleased, but the Lady has plans for Zoa and her lovers, and the sacrifice she demands might be more than Zoa can pay.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Pleasure’s Offering

  ISBN 9781419939228

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Pleasure’s Offering Copyright © 2012 Moira Sutton

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design by Fiona Jayde

  Photography: Nejron Photo, Maugli, Amenhotepov/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication April 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

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  Pleasure’s Offering

  Moira Sutton

  Chapter One

  On the high cliffs of the Imperial border city of Ull, where the buildings clung to the rocky hills like wooden barnacles, a bit of expected yearly business was being finalized.

  “So,” the old woman said, tapping her long, crimson nails against the worn ledger lying open in her lap. “You’ll have three hundred, then?”

  The man in legion armor nodded. “All soldiers of distinction.”

  The old woman chuckled and made a note at the bottom of the page. “Such good boys, aren’t they always, Captain? Though I don’t know if I can get enough girls for three hundred by the next fortnight. The harvest has been good, and with your war taking all our young men away, it’s left to the daughters to bring in the wheat. I’ll have to have something to entice them.”

  She peeked up at the captain through her blackened lashes, fixing him with a smoldering look honed fine from decades of practice. The captain just leaned back on his floor pillow with a sigh. Year after year, this part of the conversation was always the same.

  “I can give you five hundred now,” he said. “And another five hundred when the soldiers arrive. Would that be enough to entice your country girls for a night?”

  The old woman turned up her nose with a snort. “That may work for your common camp followers, but we in Ull are no idiots. Every day I hear about the carts of gold your emperor sends to keep you lot up here and everyone knows a night at Rosa’s is vital as bread and beer to keeping soldiers on the front.” She folded her arms over her chest, sending the jade beads on her shawl clacking. “Seven hundred now, a thousand the night of, or go somewhere else.”

  “Seven hundred?” the captain cried, but then he stopped. He knew as well as she did there was nowhere else he could go, and if he canceled the excursion to Rosa’s he would have rebellion in the ranks. Milla Rosa might be pushing seventy, but she hadn’t become the most famous madame in the north by driving an easy bargain.

  “All right,” he said with a sigh. “You win.”

  “We all win,” Madame Rosa said, marking the figure in her ledger with a grin. “I will have girls the like your men won’t find for five hundred miles. You will be a very popular man, Capitan Izar, I promise.”

  The captain grinned back. “Let’s hope so,” he said. “I’ll have my quartermaster bring your money and I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Very good,” Rosa said, and then her old voice slid into a new tone, secretive and velvety. “And, Captain, I happen to know that, for all your balking, your tastes run to fine women as well as men. As it so happens, we have a new girl, a southerner like yourself, though I guarantee she’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. If it pleases, I’ll save her for you.”

  Despite his best intentions, the captain could not hide his interested look. “Do as you like.”

  Madame Rosa’s laughter was his only response as he walked out of the small office and into the great hall of Rosa’s Pleasure House.

  * * * * *

  Sitting at the edge of the interior balcony that fronted off her second floor bedroom, Zoa leaned against the railing with her legs dangling above the enormous pleasure hall below, watching the young captain as he picked his way between the scattered pillows and long benches. He was tall, she noted, even for an Imperial, and quite handsome with his sand-blond hair, mischievous light-blue eyes, golden skin and well-built, athletic figure. She caught his eye as he passed, and the young captain promptly tripped over a pile of plush rugs. Zoa could almost feel the thrill running through him as his eyes went up her smooth, bare legs to where her robe slipped across her thighs. But the captain only stared for a moment before catching himself, and then he was on his way out the door, all business once again.

  Zoa grinned. The captain was a pleasurable prospect in every way, for all she’d heard he didn’t care for women. Though, judging from the display she’d just seen, that was clearly an exaggeration. But pleasing as the famous Captain Izar, Fox of the Northern Front, might look, Zoa was disappointed. She’d seen no aura around him, no sign of the Goddess’s hand. He was not the one she was here for.

  She grabbed the railing with a sigh and hauled herself up, pulling the silk-lined robe higher up her shoulders to fend off the morning’s chill. Her bare feet padded across the thick woolen rugs of the room that served both as her living space and where she plied her trade. It was by far the largest and most prestigious spot at Rosa’s. Aside from the balcony, which was open to the great room, there was an enormous wooden bed covered in silk throws and pillows, a large washstand with a pile of fresh towels, a cabinet full of imported spirits and the place where she went now, a small alcove altar dedicated to Dezira, the goddess of the moon.

  Whores weren’t known for their piety, but Dezira was the goddess of love and desire, the patron goddess of all acts of pleasure. Every soul who made their living from that plea
sure gave back to the goddess or suffered her wrath. But even had the altar not been there when Rosa gave her the room, Zoa would have built one anyway, for Dezira was her goddess and Zoa was her chosen Avatar, marked forever as the Moon’s Own, and she was here on the goddess’s business.

  And delicate business it was. Half a year ago, the head of Dezira’s temple had had a vision that a new Avatar was nearing his power in the north. Unlike the Avatars of the other gods, the Chosen of Dezira were born, not made. Dezira did not wait for her followers to perform some act worthy of her attention before claiming them as the Great Sun did. Instead, the goddess marked Her Own in the womb, choosing them from birth to serve the call of desire. But though the Moon’s Own were born into power, they could not grasp it until they were ushered into the Lady’s service by another of Dezira’s Chosen. Until another of the Moon’s Own found them and brought them to the goddess, the new Avatar could not use any of Dezira’s gifts or know the true pleasure of release.

  Of all the Chosen in Dezira’s temple, Zoa had been picked to usher in this new Avatar and sent to the north. At the time, she’d been delighted to be so singled out, but now that delight was waning. Though she’d been up here all summer, she had nothing to show for it. The new Avatar was still unfound and unawakened, and time was running out.

  From the moment they hit puberty, those meant for Dezira’s service suffered insatiable desire, and yet, until they were brought to the Lady, sex led only to frustration. If left long enough, this frustration could drive the unawakened Avatar to damage themselves or others in their desperate search for fulfillment. But the north was huge and desolate, and though Zoa had been searching for months, she hadn’t caught so much as a glimmer of the unawakened Avatar’s presence.

  Rosa’s was her last gambit. The unawakened were often drawn to brothels in their desperation to ease the burning need inside them, but Rosa’s was particularly famous for playing host to the occupying Legion’s yearly binge. The emperor had been trying to beat the northern tribes into submission for nearly five years now and his Legions grew very tired of fighting so far from home. To prevent insurrection, the emperor bought his men’s loyalty with plentiful food, good drink and, once a year for the bravest and most loyal of his soldiers, a night of pleasure that could rival those of Dezira’s own temples.

  Such a revelry would draw people from all over the north, and no Avatar of Dezira, woken or not, could resist a temptation like that. Or, at least, that was what Zoa desperately hoped. Winter was coming quickly, and if she couldn’t find her Avatar at the Legion’s night, she didn’t know what she would do next.

  “Zoa!” Rosa’s voice echoed from the hall below and the wooden stairs creaked as the old woman began to climb. “Zoa!”

  “Here!” Zoa called.

  She gave a final bow to the goddess’ statue and threw herself back into bed, running her hands through her hair until it looked as if she’d just woken up. She wasn’t ready to reveal herself as a godtouched just yet, so she’d been passing herself off as a courtesan from the Imperial Capital. The cover neatly explained her ignorance of northern customs, but city girls weren’t known for early rising, so Zoa made a great show of rolling over with a sleepy groan when Madame Rosa stomped into her room.

  She blinked sleepily at the old woman, but the madame paid her no mind. She tromped over and sat on the edge of Zoa’s enormous bed with a grin that could only be brought about by a great deal of money.

  “How do you like the idea of making a month’s pay in one night?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Zoa said, brushing her tangled black hair out of her eyes.

  Rosa gave her a sly look. “You know about the arrangement I have with the good Captain Izar of the Fifth Legion, don’t you?”

  “How could I not?” Zoa said, sitting up. “Your ‘arrangement’ with the Fifth Legion is the envy of every pleasure house from here to the Great Delta. How many did you have last year? One fifty? Two hundred?”

  “Little over two hundred,” Rosa said proudly. “But that’s nothing. The good captain paid me a visit this morning. In two weeks, he’s bringing us three hundred of his finest soldiers, those who have served with exceptional courage, for an all-expense-paid night of wild pleasure.”

  Zoa arched an eyebrow. “I think your eyes are bigger than your stomach, old woman. You’ve got plenty of lusty ladies, but even we can’t handle three hundred.”

  “Bah!” Rosa said. “Who do you take me for? We’re just the host. I’ll be hiring out every pleasure house in Ull for the occasion, as well as pulling in girls from the countryside.” Rosa pursed her crimson-painted lips at the prospect. “We’ll have a hundred and fifty at least, probably two hundred by the time word gets out that a comely girl can make a year’s wage in one night’s pleasurable work.”

  “A year’s wage?” Zoa said, astonished. Even considering the tiny amounts of money it took to make farm girls gawk, a year’s wage for two hundred women was outrageous. “How much is the captain paying?”

  Rosa took her time answering, savoring the secret as if it was a sugar plum. “Seventeen hundred, all together,” she said at last. “Hog feed by Imperial standards, but how’s that for a night’s earnings?”

  Zoa shook her head in amazement and Rosa started to cackle. Still, Zoa was impressed. It was quite a sum, but three hundred soldiers… “Where are you going to put them all?

  “Don’t worry,” Rosa said. “The other houses will help out for a small slice of the profit. The whole square will be ours that night. We’ll be a little crowded, but they’re such good, handsome boys, and so well behaved.” She leaned in confidentially. “The captain’s breaking the Imperial morality edicts to do this and they all know it. Not a one of them would dare do anything that could risk their night of unlimited sex, food and drink after months out on the high plains with nothing but steel, cold and the tribes for company.”

  Zoa smiled. Her mission aside, it did sound like fun. Brave, handsome soldiers would be a nice change from the merchants who were her usual clients, and surely with so many young men and women drawn together, she’d be able to find her sleeping Avatar at last. Then she could finally go home where temperatures were fit for humans.

  “Of course, you won’t have to worry about the crowd,” Rosa went on. “I’ve promised you to the captain himself. He’s as fine a man as any you’ll see and quite famous around here. You’ll be the envy of all the girls. It’s my way of saying thank you for all the business you’ve brought me since you came here.”

  Zoa smiled politely, but inside she bristled with annoyance. She’d already established the captain was not who she was looking for and she didn’t care to spend the one night she had to search with someone she already knew wasn’t her Avatar. Not that it would be all bad, she thought, remembering Izar’s lithe body and fine, broad shoulders, but she was supposed to be on a mission.

  “I’m going to start pulling things together,” Rosa said, pushing off Zoa’s bed with a flounce of her red and gold skirts. “I’m sure I can get the girls here within the two-week time limit, but having enough wine and food is another matter entirely. Soldiers eat as though they were starving wolves and drink like drunkard fish. Seventeen hundred may not be enough.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage,” Zoa said, lying back on the soft pillows.

  Still laughing, Rosa left Zoa’s loft room and tromped down the hall toward the stairs, knocking on each of the other bedrooms as she went. She followed each knock with a sharp shout for the other girls to get up and help her.

  Zoa rose and closed the curtain over her door. She shed her silk robe and tossed it on the bed as she walked to the large chest in the corner. She opened the carved lid and bent down to rummage through the piles of sheer dresses. Despite Rosa’s promising her to the captain, Zoa was starting to get excited. A thrill was rising inside her, a hum of power that came directly from her goddess. Zoa closed her eyes and gave herself to the feeling. She’d been an Avatar of Dezira long enough to know a p
remonition when it came. This festival of Rosa’s would find her Avatar, she was sure of it. She only hoped two weeks wouldn’t be too late for the poor thing.

  * * * * *

  On the last day of fall, the Fifth Imperial Legion left the bloody battlegrounds of the tundra and began the long march south toward their winter camp. For two days, nothing happened. Then, when the Legion was halfway through the forest that separated the northern steppes from the Imperial Borderlands, a group of riders broke off from the Legion’s main column, hooting and crowing their good fortune over the other jeering soldiers. They were three-hundred strong, and each wore the red sash of the emperor, a symbol of his exceptional bravery and loyalty on the field of battle in the past year. Usually, the sash was given out in a solemn ceremony, but in Captain Izar’s army, the red strip of cloth carried an additional meaning all its own.

  At the head of this riotous crowd rode Captain Izar himself, grinning and in good humor on the back of his dancing white horse. Riding beside him like a brooding shadow to the captain’s bright light was the Legion’s second, Jeric Ballent, who was not smiling at all.

  “Hoy!” Jeric called, standing up in his stirrups to glare back at the shouting soldiers. “We’re still in the Legion, you idiots! Ride straight or I’ll send the lot of you right back to the tribes!”

  “Easy, Jeric,” the captain said, laughing as he pulled his lieutenant back down into his saddle. “It’s been a long campaign, let them have some fun.”

  “Fun is what you’re paying for them to have tonight,” Jeric growled. “We’re still in enemy territory.”

  “And the tribes are at their own festivals,” the captain said sagely. “No doubt singing prayers for our defeat.”

  “Their prayers will be answered if those idiots keep up like that,” Jeric grumbled, but he settled into his saddle as his captain bade him.