Anhaga

by Lisa Henry

  Min didn’t know the western quarter as well as he knew the eastern. He could find his way, but not well enough to risk any shortcuts down narrow alleys. Getting lost wasn’t Min’s only concern. In the eastern quarter, Min knew exactly where the cutpurses and rogues gathered—he gathered with them on most occasions—but he had no desire to run into any who didn’t either count him as a friend or had at least agreed not to stab him out of professional courtesy. Once they passed under the portcullis and entered the city proper, Min and Kaz kept to the main road.

  Min sucked in lungfuls of smoky air that tasted like home.

  Beside him, Kaz’s footsteps faltered. “Min….”

  Min turned to look at him.

  In the growing darkness, his face was pale, and tears shone on his cheeks. “Min, I don’t want to go.”

  And here it was, Kaz’s breakdown, a lot later than Min had expected it if he was honest with himself. Which he rarely was. But the burden had been bound to crush the boy sooner or later. This was the moment Min had been dreading, where all his previous cruelty would feel so very small.

  Kaz scrubbed at his cheeks with his sleeves. “I don’t want my grandfather to lock me up. I don’t want to marry my uncle.” His bottom lip trembled. “I hate them. I hate them.”

  They had stopped in the street between an inn and a taproom. The inn was quiet, but there was light and noise spilling out of the open door and shutters of the taproom. A woman shrieked with laughter—a strident, drunken sound that seemed to mock Kaz’s misery.

  “I don’t want to go,” Kaz repeated. “I have to, and I will, but I don’t want to.”

  And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? That was the unfixable rot at the heart of the matter.

  “There is still a sennight until the full moon,” Kaz said. “I know you can’t be my friend, but can you pretend, just for tonight?”

  Min felt a rush of some sharp emotion he couldn’t name pass over him. “What are you asking me?”

  Kaz wiped his face again. “I don’t want my uncle to be the first man who has me. I want you to be the one to do it, so that at least there will be once in my life that it’s not….” He shrugged.

  Rape, Min thought. So that it’s not rape.

  “That’s a terrible idea, Kaz.”

  “I know,” Kaz said with a wavering smile. “But you’re handsome, and I don’t hate you, and I don’t think you hate me either, and I just want something for me, Min, just once. I am selfish, like you said. And why shouldn’t I be?”

  Well, why indeed?

  And Min was selfish too.

  He stepped forward into Kaz’s space, tucked his hand under Kaz’s chin, tilted his jaw, and leaned in to take the kiss he’d wanted for days. Kaz let out a hot huff of surprised breath, but then his mouth was pressing back firmly against Min’s, his lips closed, and Min thought he had probably never had a kiss that was so innocent. Kaz wanted to fuck, and he didn’t even know how to kiss. Had Min been a better man, that might have given him pause. But Min was not a better man.

  He broke the kiss, keeping his mouth pressed against Kaz’s cheek and nuzzling his face to prevent him from shying away. He caught Kaz’s right wrist softly and moved his hand to his shoulder. When he released it, Kaz kept his hand in place. Min lifted his right hand and curled his fingers gently around Kaz’s throat, just above where the iron collar rested. He could feel Kaz’s frantic pulse hammering in his jugular. Min lifted the boy’s chin again and brought their mouths together once more.

  Kaz’s breath was hot against his lips.

  Min used his tongue to coax the seam of Kaz’s mouth open. Kaz tasted like Joderman’s beer, and Min chased the bitter taste with his tongue, slipping it over Kaz’s teeth and against the roof of his mouth before he withdrew and sucked for a moment on Kaz’s lower lip.

  Kaz made a small surprised noise and dug his fingers into Min’s shoulder. Min’s other hand found Kaz’s head, and he slid his trembling fingers through his hair.

  Min deepened the kiss again, this time darting his tongue against Kaz’s and then pulling back to encourage Kaz’s tongue to follow.

  Kaz moaned and shivered.

  Min sucked at his lower lip again for a moment and then, regretfully, pulled away.

  Kaz’s dark eyes were wide, his pupils large. His wet mouth hung open, and his jaw worked for a moment before any words spilled out: “You… you will give me tonight, then?”

  Against all his better judgment, probably, but a lifetime of making terrible decisions had lead Min down a lot of enjoyable paths.

  “Yes,” he said. “Just tonight.”

  Kaz nodded, and then another burst of raucous laughter from the nearby taproom ushered them deeper into Amberwich.

  THE FOOTBRIDGE Tavern was a light in the cesspool that was this particular neighborhood in the eastern quarter. Like any light, it attracted insects. There was a group of them in the street outside as Min and Kaz approached: sons from noble Houses who were trying too hard to look like they weren’t at all intimidated. They were full of swagger and braying laughter as though they wouldn’t all scream and run at the first sight of actual danger.

  “Keep your cloak on,” Min said to Kaz. The last thing he wanted to do was explain Kaz’s collar to anyone. “We’ll get some food, maybe some beer, and go to my place.”

  Kaz nodded.

  Min eyed the nervous noblemen closely as he held the door of the Footbridge open for Kaz. He had barely followed him inside when burly-armed Freya grabbed him by the forearm.

  “Step out the back door and you’ll have eyes on you,” she growled.

  Min swore under his breath.

  “Two of them,” Freya said. “Hanging around like flies on shit. Aulus spotted them yesterday.”

  Men from the Sabadines’ household, Min wondered, or were some of his older debts catching him up at last? Whatever the case, it did rather put a crimp in his plans for spending the night with Kaz.

  Unless….

  Well, desperate times and all that.

  He dug into his purse to thank Freya for the warning and turned and steered Kaz out the way they’d come.

  “Where are we going?” Kaz asked.

  “The one place that anybody who knows me would never think to look.”

  THE MAN on the door recognized Min and let them in.

  The place was busy, as always, and smelled of alcohol and perfume. Min took Kaz’s hand and drew him toward the back of the house, past doors that opened onto opulent parlors, and up the stairs. The rooms were just as opulent here, but the doors were closed.

  There was another set of stairs at the back of the house, dark and narrow, but Min knew his way.

  Min was surprised to find the attic room above his mother’s brothel in good repair. The bedding smelled a little musty, but the room was free of dust and cobwebs. He moved forward to throw the shutters open and allow some fresh air in, while Kaz looked around curiously.

  Min’s psaltery lay on a stool beside the low wardrobe. His mother had hired a man to teach him to play the instrument in the hopes Min could entertain her customers with some hitherto undiscovered musical talent, but Min had been terrible at it. He poked at it spitefully, plucking an untuned string that twanged mournfully in response. Even now Min felt the urge to set fire to the thing.

  The little carved box that Min had collected his treasures in since he was a child was still sitting on the wardrobe. Min opened it curiously: three copper coins, several ivory betting chips he’d never cashed in, and a silver cloak pin that had been gifted to Min when he’d been fifteen by a nobleman customer of his mother’s who’d tried desperately for months to get into Min’s pants. Min was surprised his mother hadn’t sold it. He was also surprised she allowed him even a few moments to reacquaint himself with his childhood room before she stalked up the steps to tell him what a waste of space he was.

  Kaz jumped when the sharp rapping sounded at the door, but Min only rolled his eyes and pulled the door open.

&n
bsp; “Good evening, Mother.”

  Mairead Decourcey had the fixed, narrow stare of a hawk that had spied a particularly fat rabbit. She was a striking woman, Min supposed. He probably owed her his good looks, although he would never admit it. She was almost fifty now—although she would never admit that—but she carried her age well. She was more beautiful than many women half her age.

  “Well,” she said, crossing the floor to light the lamp on the table by his bed. “You’re not dead. How surprising.”

  Min smiled. “I flatter myself that I’m full of surprises.”

  “You flatter yourself because nobody else will.” Mairead’s gaze shifted to Kaz. “Who’s this?”

  “None of your business.”

  Mairead raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Henriette?”

  Min bridled at that, as he always did. “His name is Harry.”

  Mairead pressed her mouth into a thin line. “Finally got sick of you, did she?”

  “He,” Min said pointedly, “is fine.” He hoped it wasn’t a lie. “For some reason he doesn’t have fond memories of this place or of you. I can’t imagine why.”

  Mairead hmmphed. “I suppose you’re in some sort of trouble, aren’t you, if you’re here?”

  “Not the sort that will bring the guard to your door,” Min said. “Beyond that, it’s no business of yours.”

  Mairead raised her eyes to the ceiling, as though she was petitioning a particularly vengeful god to strike him down. She probably was. Then she looked at Kaz again. “You can do a lot better.”

  Min clenched his fists. “That’s none of—”

  “I was talking to the boy,” Mairead said and raised her eyebrows.

  Min had no reply. It was a fair call, actually.

  Mairead regarded him silently for a moment, a calculating look in her eye. “Well,” she said at last, “I’ll have some water sent up, shall I? You look like you’ve been rolling around in a sewer.”

  Min smiled thinly. “And food too, please.”

  “You think I’d let you starve?”

  “I shall do you the courtesy of not answering that.”

  She snorted, straightened the heavy necklace that rested on her bosom, and sailed out of the attic room.

  Min made a rude gesture after her and then sat on the edge of the bed and peeled his boots off. Kaz sat beside him and did the same.

  Mairead was back moments later, followed by a gaggle of girls in various states of undress. What they lacked in clothing they made up for in food, water, and wine. Min thought he recognized one of them, but he didn’t remember her name. He thanked them and glared at his mother while she fussed around setting the serving tray down on the bed just so, as though Min were a rich customer instead of her reprobate son. He didn’t fall for it for a second.

  Kaz stared at the floor, his cheeks bright as the girls flittered around.

  “Good night, Mother,” Min said pointedly at last, and Mairead smirked at him and ushered the girls from the room.

  Min closed and bolted the door behind them.

  The basin on the low wardrobe was full of hot rose-scented water now, with a clean sea sponge floating on the cloudy surface. Min submerged it and then squeezed the water out of it. He gestured Kaz closer.

  “Can I wash you?”

  Kaz’s flush deepened, but then he nodded and lifted his shaking hands to his throat. He dropped his cloak to the floor and reached for the laces of his kirtle. He loosened them and tugged his kirtle over his head. His shirt came next, revealing the pale planes of his torso to Min’s hungry gaze. Then he loosened the ties on his breeches and pushed them down, revealing a pair of thin linen braies that hung loosely from his hips. He raised his gaze to meet Min’s and then dropped the braies as well.

  Beautiful.

  Kaz was lean and pale, although his flush extended down to his chest and painted him a pinkish hue. There was a slenderness to him that Min liked; he was no manual laborer with bulging muscles—though Min quite liked those in a man as well. Kaz’s cock was a good size, inclined more to length than to girth, and the moment they were both clean, Min fully intended to discover if it tasted as nice as it looked.

  Min dropped the sponge back into the basin and stripped his own clothes off.

  He was not shy. Never had been, thanks to growing up under this roof. He knew he was good-looking; he had heard it too many times to doubt it and had preened in front of the mirror as often as the vainest girls downstairs. He’d once been as slender and pretty as Kaz, but that had been at least a decade ago. Min wasn’t counting, though, because his vanity didn’t need to suffer that blow. He was still young, thank you, however much Harry laughed at him and told him he wasn’t. Besides, Min had matured like fine wine, or perhaps cheese. He hadn’t gone stale and moldy. He had sharpened.

  Kaz’s gaze was certainly appreciative.

  “Come here, sweeting.” Min took the sponge again and delighted in the way Kaz shivered when he swept it down his chest. Kaz’s nipples hardened in the wake of the sponge, and Taavi, curled up on his hip, opened her eyes and flicked her ears as a droplet of water slid down Kaz’s skin.

  Kaz’s cock was already half-hard, but Min teased him by paying it no mind. Instead, he washed his chest, his sides, and under his arms, and crouched down to reach his legs. Then he turned him around and washed his back and his perfect ass. Min’s mouth watered at the sight of it and at the thought of sinking deep inside and making Kaz cry out in pleasure. He swept the sponge over the globes of Kaz’s ass and then down into the cleft. Kaz jerked in surprise, his breath rushing out of him. The touch of the sponge on his hole drove him up onto his toes for a moment.

  Min laughed and turned Kaz again. He dipped the sponge in the water again and this time rubbed it over Kaz’s abdomen, following the sparse trail of dark hair down from his navel to his cock and balls.

  Kaz jerked again as Min ran the sponge over his cock, his breath shuddering out of him. “Min!”

  “Shah, sweeting,” Min murmured, pressing harder. “So beautiful.”

  Kaz squeezed his eyes shut as his cock twitched under Min’s attention.

  “Done,” Min said and tossed the sponge back in the basin. He waited until Kaz blinked his eyes open and then leaned in and kissed him gently. “Go wait on the bed and tell me if my mother’s cook is still a miracle worker.”

  Kaz trailed over to the bed, sitting down and picking at the tray of food as Min washed himself. It felt good to clean away the dust from the road. It felt better to have Kaz watch him as he did.

  “It is good?” he asked with a smirk.

  Kaz looked guiltily at the half-eaten sweetmeat in his hand. “Yes.”

  Min finished up and prowled over to the bed. He shoved the pillow up against the headboard and sat down, stretching his legs out. “Come lean against me, Kaz.”

  Kaz obeyed, angling his body awkwardly away as though Min hadn’t had his hand on his dick mere moments ago.

  “Do you need to put a shirt on?” Min asked him.

  Kaz looked surprised for a moment and then reached up and touched the iron collar. “No. No, it doesn’t seem to burn like it did.”

  Min pushed away his disquiet at that admission. If the iron had hurt when he first put it on, then it should have still been hurting now, but Kaz seemed to have developed a tolerance for it, like the old gulchcups at the Footbridge Tavern who needed to swallow down twice as much beer as other men to feel half as drunk. Kaz’s Gift, perhaps because of the addition of his strange blood, was unlike any other he had known, though Kaz didn’t seem to fully realize it.

  “Good,” he said instead, and reached out for the tray. He inspected the dishes and also the small vial of oil he knew had nothing to do with food at all. He selected a dish of sweetbread pieces, baked in crumbs. He picked one out and held it up to Kaz’s face. “Open.”

  Kaz opened, and Min popped the sweetbread inside his mouth. He dragged his fingers against Kaz’s lower lip as he withdrew them, and Kaz shivered at the tou
ch. His cheeks burned red, but he opened his mouth again when Min fed him the next piece. By the time they had moved on to the honey-mustard egg halves and cheese, Kaz had relaxed and was lying curled against Min’s side, one hand splayed against Min’s chest, rubbing his fingertips over the hair there. Kaz’s cock was hard and hot against Min’s thigh.

  Min kissed him between bites, soft, lazy kisses that tasted of the finest dishes from his mother’s kitchen.

  He set the empty tray aside. “Ready for more, sweeting?”

  He wasn’t talking about food.

  “Yes,” Kaz whispered, raising his chin for another kiss. “Yes, please, Min.”

  Chapter 14

  THEY TOOK it slowly.

  Kaz was nervous, his inexperience evident in his wrinkled nose, his bitten lip, and the awkward way he responded at first to Min’s touches, as though he was embarrassed by his body’s reaction or by Min’s scrutiny of it. Min, for his part, couldn’t even remember the last time he bedded a virgin, but it was no matter to him. And besides, Kaz was a hot-blooded young man. It only took until Min had Kaz’s cock in his mouth for Kaz’s eager enthusiasm to overcome his apprehension.

  Kaz was a feast of delights.

  He came so hard that even Min was surprised and struggled to swallow him down. Then, afterward, they drank a little wine, and Min played Kaz’s body better than he ever played the damn psaltery. His fingers stroked Kaz’s skin, plucked at his nipples, and danced up the strings of his ribs. Kaz, in his turn, made sounds that were sweeter than any music.

  Min left a trail of kisses over Kaz’s chest, laughing softly against his skin as Taavi, affronted, leapt off Kaz’s hip and landed, a proper cat, on the mattress. She dropped down onto the floor and vanished under the bed.

  Chirpy, for his part, stayed hidden in Kaz’s hair. Min never even glimpsed a feather or a claw.

  Bright moonlight streamed in the window. It bathed Kaz’s body in silver light and made him seem almost otherworldly, as ethereal as the fae, but Kaz’s features weren’t as sharp as theirs. Min didn’t fear fangs when they kissed.